TheMommyBlog

Thursday, May 22, 2008 Fun Finds

Fraud-prevention pitchman becomes ID theft victim

This guy BEGGED people to try to steal his identity, marching through crowded cities, bellowing his Social Security number through a bullhorn. He may as well have had his Social Security card made into a business card. I don’t even want to think about how much money he spent daring someone to rip him off.

Still, it took two years–TWO YEARS, mind you–for someone to do it. This man had mad PR skillz and really couldn’t have made it any easier for someone to steal his identity if so inclined.

Now will everyone please stop going on about mommy bloggers endangering their loved ones? Thank you.

[via Ben Bear]

Wednesday, May 21, 2008 Familybits

I cannot for the life of me get that song out of my head. I’ve been explaining to the children as well as I can how the doctors were able to replace mom’s hip with a stainless steel one yesterday. They’re just staring at the little bandage, and then at the huge container holding all the stuff draining from the surgical site and going, “Huh?”

She didn’t sleep at all last night–how I don’t know, I would have been hitting that morphine drip button like Cliff Claven on Jeopardy–so I haven’t gone to see her yet today. I did wait there until she’d been sent to recovery, and then returned later on with Daphne just as she was being wheeled to her room. Mom asked to stop long enough to let Daph catch up and say hi and touch her hand.

While they were negotiating the hallway to get into the room, I told Daphne,"Just go up and tickle the back of her head. Go on, it won’t hurt, and she can’t do anything about it.” She was too shy so I did it, but Mom thought it was her anyway and said, “I feeeeel someone!” Which nearly sent me into giggles right there. Right after I gave Daphne the long lecture about how we respect the quiet and seriousness of the hospital at all times.

Dylan got the tour later on when he returned with Daph and me (Logan had a game), and Mom showed them every wire and tube and needle and bag, explaining what all of it was. And I mean EVERY wire, tube, needle and bag. Daphne deadpanned, “I was hoping that wasn’t pee.”

We told Dylan which ones he also had while he was in the NICU as an infant (don’t laugh, smart boy, you had a catheter, too), and it’s been a long time since he’s listened so intently to what someone–anyone–has said in a donkey’s age. That child runs deep.

They had a hopscotch pattern laid into the tiles in front of the elevator, which I thought was genius, the perfect way to release some of that tension while waiting to leave.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008 Me, Me, Me, Other people who write, Bad Mood Dude, BlogHer

While not being able to sleep because my daughter invaded my bed and pressed her heat-seeking missile body ever closer until I fell off the edge, I began to read up on some of the links I mentioned a couple of posts back. No surprise, Jenn Satterwhite of Mommy Needs Coffee had a totally spot-on take of the genre of Mommy Bloggers. I usually stay out of the fray, either because I’ve said it all before somewhere in last six years or because I know that the title of my blog has become more of an impediment than a novelty. Yes, I’m cranky. My daughter was radiating heat like a… heat radiator thing.

Read these excerpts from Jenn’s post, and then my comment, which should have been a post here in the first place (and now is).

While we are on the topic of respect, I have to mention a great conversation that took place today. The question was asked:

“Tell me, is ‘Mommyblogger’ still a negative term in the Social Media space? Has it changed? Do you still look down? Be truthful.”

The response was quick and thorough.

Momologue responded with: “Just last week I got a ‘oh your one of those, an MB.’ Complete with a wave of hand. Dismissed.

But was quick to also add: “But I do love the online community we create. It’s the best — and it’s about diapers and changing the world.

Banannie put in her two cents with: “I always felt the mommy-blogger label was too confining, and I shook it completely a year ago when I started a new blog… much of that was because of reaction from others that made mommy-blogging feel second tier- looking back I should have ignored.”

For many of us, we remember the time when the very term or idea of mommybloggers was dismissed, shunned and looked down upon. The very first BlogHer conference had a session on mommyblogging that was a “room of our own” and was expected to bring in few people. It was standing room only. Back then, one of the main focuses of the discussion was whether or not the term mommyblogger was derogatory. Today, as I followed the discussion on Twitter, I saw many responses that were along these lines:

Shelisrael shared: “I never knew that mommy bloggers were looked down upon. Not ever. Why do you perceive otherwise?”

From Karoli: “Maybe b/c I’m older or whatever, but I never saw it as a derogatory term. Still don’t quite understand why it’s seen that way.”

And my personal favorite by Dave Taylor: “I never thought “mommyblogger” was other than a statement of heroic survival ability!”

Not everyone was loving the term or category. Lone Sophist stated:"I think that women who are mothers and blog are more than mommybloggers, that’s why I don’t like that ‘category.’”

The point is this. Just a few years ago we were in a small room and felt like second tier bloggers. Today, we are much sought after by marketers, talk shows and magazines. We’ve come a long way, baby.

I responded: “Try having a blog called THE MOMMY BLOG. Judged right out of the gate, anyone? Named yourself the Kleenex of the blogosphere? You’re such a dork. Now I’m going to get a lot of “sure thing, Al Gore, you and the Internet” crap for this, but the only reason I have that name is because I had to pick one when I opened up my Typepad account in 2002. I was stumped. Uh, blog, blog, who the fuck am I, I’m the mommy, so that will have to do until I figure out how all of this works. And then you realize it’s now fixed as part of your URL and you’re stuck with it.

Further proof of dorkitude? I created a blog for my mom at the same time called The Grandma Blog. Towering genius. But it never caught on.

So there you have it. I coined “The Mommy Blog.” Doesn’t it count if you come up with it with no outside influence? Oh yeah, there WAS no influence back then. And now my blog name is a descriptor that has become so commonplace and emotionally charged that it’s practically meaningless. Brilliant. Good luck with that.

Now I am surrounded by dozens of blogs calling themselves The Mommy Blog, Mommy Confidential, and even variations on Wonderbelly. I can’t service mark the whole dictionary, can I, so what am I complaining about? Well, I don’t want to be confused with a pro-swinger blog, or one that consists almost exclusively of blinking meme banners, or, and this really feels good, someone who does it a whole lot better than I do and makes total bank doing it.

It’s like I need a do-over, but I have six years of recognition and branding associated with the title of my blog. I called it first! Wait - can I change it?”

Monday, May 19, 2008 Other people who write

Well, that does it. I’m nineteen pages into Michelle Lamar’s The White Trash Mom Handbook (Embrace Your Inner Trailerpark, Forget Perfection, Resist Assimilation into the PTA, Stay Sane and Keep Your Sense of Humor) and already I’m willing to throw in the towel and suggest you transfer your links and your loyalty to her. She’s far more organized and sensible than I am, and is able to articulate–in the first nineteen pages no less–why some of us are the way we are and are so incredibly self-conscious about it. She totally strips the veneer off the ideal mom and tells you to knock it off already if you are spending time and energy trying to be perfect, or even good enough. Chances are, you’re aces.

I’ve known Michelle for years through her blog, The White Trash Mom. We’ve never met, but I’m pretty sure I could recognize her handwriting because we’re in each other’s address book for holiday cards. That’s a big deal for bloggers. Most of my address book consists of email addresses with obscure referential terminology and slang. It says a lot if you can look at a blogger’s email address or title and come up with a real name to go with it.

What I love about her, and her writing, is that she’s already in my head. I don’t ever find myself navigating away in the middle of a post, overcome with feelings of inadequacy. I’ve never had the old “yeah, whatever” feeling creep up on me with her around. We’ve exchanged the most inappropriate finds and unbelievably hilarious emails, and I know that I could never cross the line with her. Seriously, if you’re a longtime reader, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. I can tolerate just about anything from her because I automatically assume it’s funny, and she gives me the same benefit of the doubt. Besides, who else gave me totally free advertising for my book because she just KNEW how shitty I was feeling about not having the funds to promote it? She just sent me the code and said, get yer ad up, sister.

What really got me to put down the book and scurry to my keyboard was her guide to Spotting the White Trash Mom in Her Native Habitat. One of the first things to look for is a big laugh. A biiiig laugh. She is so right. I like to see molars when a friend laughs. None of this pursed up-curve of the lips that doesn’t quite make it all the way up to the eyes. It made me feel proud, and authentic, and at home, because I have what has been described as a room-clearing laugh. Or a sort of Mindy GPS. People know where I am in the building.

My favorite laugh of all time was with Phil. We were waiting to go on the Mystery Spot tour, and he was whispering to me and I was bent over, feet off the ground, crying, and unable to stop laughing. A girl about twenty feet away punched her boyfriend in the arm and asked, “How come you never make ME laugh like that?”

She needs a White Trash Mom in her life.

Sunday, May 18, 2008 Other people who write

I was in Wine Country with friends this weekend, so I missed about seventeen calls and 676368741523 emails while I was gone. Jiminy. So I did my usual browse through alerts to see if I missed anything much and found this fabulous comic on Velveteen Mind.

Harkens back to the day when I used to sell “Mommy Blogged Me” onsies and “Please Don’t Blog This” thongs (on the back, it read, “I’m begging you.").

Anyway, I see links there to a lot of folks I know, so I’ll have to check them out when I have time tomorrow. And I guess, um, you should too, otherwise I’m kinda posting to the void, y’know?