I am about to be both honest and super lame: I think I’m having a beginner’s blogging crisis.
Mmmm a little dramatic, possibly. But see, I place an enormous amount of pressure on myself. Between school, work, baby care, toddler care, wife-ing, cleaning toilets…I have a living room floor that is trying to make a wig out of my hair, so there’s always vacuuming to do. If there was a Miss Productive U.S.A. contest, I’d probably win, unless there was a swim suit competition where stretch marks and weird extra tummy flab weren’t considered assets. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like my head is spinning all day long like that poor girl in the Exorcist with the bad skin. Or I guess like an owl, if you want a reference involving less vomit and much slower spinning.
The problem basically comes down to the fact that I feel like every post should be like epically hilarious. But in reality, 90-95% of the time I’m actually not funny and/or nothing funny is going on. Like one thing I do a lot is load the dishwasher. So maybe I could write something like, “Isn’t it hilarious when the bottom rack looks full, but then you find space for one more plate? OMG! So funny! This happened to me today, and I HAD to blog about it!!!”
See what I mean? Terrible.
Just to step to the side for a moment, when I’m pregnant, I’m funny as little as 1% of the time. This is not counting the times I’m funny on accident, like when I had a weeping meltdown at Ryan because I felt like I had over-consumed lunchmeat. Or when he ate literally a tablespoon of cream cheese and I got angry and wailed, “If you eat all the cream cheese, then WHAT’S THE POINT?!” (I was pretty much always jonesing for a bagel and cream cheese, and the thought of being out of cream cheese immediately threw me into panic mode).
Most of my days consist of things like making peanut butter sandwiches, putting Baby Ham down for a nap, taking chicken out of the freezer, refusing to pick up my husband’s clothes off the floor, doing dishes, folding laundry, telling B.T. he can’t play Wolverine on Baby Ham, some boring stuff, more boring stuff, and after that I do something boring. See what I mean, playas? Or are you guys playa hatahs? I don’t want any subculture to feel left out of this conversation.
It would be awesome if my self-imposed pressure inspired me, like it probably does Olympic athletes or Oprah. Instead, I freeze, feel really guilty, and go into my Corinne-cave, which basically means watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy and refusing to have conversations with other people.
My point is that I love writing this blog. It may not look great yet or be everything I’ve been dreaming of (yes, I have dreamt of blogging). It’s sad and frankly really uncool to think of blogging reduced to just another item on my to-do list instead of something fun. After all, I sometimes blog when I could be sleeping or watching HGTV. If that doesn’t say “I love doing this” nothing does, my friends!
In conclusion (because this is actually a term paper in disguise), I must write this blog for me. The way I feel about this is very similar to that scene on Center Stage when Zoe Saldana stops dancing for them, and starts dancing for herself. Not that I have watched Center Stage enough to remember specific dialog.
This means I will write about my adventures as a mother even if I’m worried someone might find them mundane – like when B.T. put his arm around Baby Ham and said, “I love our baby.”
Also, I will continue to photograph people’s hideous front yards even if I’m worried that one of the trashy people might come out and kick my ass (I’ll just tell them I’m from the government. I’m sure that will clear everything up).
Or I will write about how I sometimes have to creatively multi-task when I’m home alone with B.T. and Baby Ham, even if most people find the information useless to the point of being offensive.
Or maybe I want to talk about how my husband and I took over/started our own window washing business a few months ago, even if some people find the topic of window cleanliness distasteful.
And if everyone besides me and my mom finds me boring and inane, I think can live with that. I will just write this blog entirely for my mom because she loves me and generally thinks I’m awesome at life.
So…what do you want me to write about, Mom?