Okay, so the month of February is going to force me to into a decision. Continue blogging for my six readers, or chuck it all? I am trying to think long and hard about why I started this mess. What are my intentions? What is my message? Who cares? So what?
On the one hand, I see what blogging has become. No longer a treasure trove of creative writing, critical thinking, and philosophical musings, (all except for grumblesandgrunts), the typical blog has become a pile of poo-doo. It’s all so formulaic and frosted. Blech. I follow twenty blogs that are about the same thing. Food, breasts, crafts (guilty!!!), and parenting. If there were just 5 blogs that were in that vein, I would look at them as a wealth of knowledge and would reference them heavily. But this whole idea that EVERYONE is living this awesome life where the only concern is if their sucanat order will arrive before Menu Planning Day? Whatever. I don’t buy it.
I know from my own experience that being a blogger is not all roses. I have dark underbellies in my life that I want to write about. So, why not write about them? Yeah, that works. The few times I have touched on our family struggle with alcoholism, extended family members who never speak to me, all of a sudden have an opinion on my blog. “That’s private. She shouldn’t be writing about those things.” Oh, pardon me, let me put up my Super Duper Gluten Free Corn Bread recipe instead.
My husband certainly doesn’t take blogging seriously and could care less about it. Now, if it made us MILLIONS, that would be another story. So overusing the DH or giving him a goofy moniker that makes it appear like he is involved would be a lie. Why lie? He probably thinks I knit too much, that I read too many blogs and it’s a total waste of time. Good! I like having my own hobbies. I don’t need a creepy, tandem husband. He can write his OWN blog.
The kids sure do say the darndest and the cutest things. They also scream at each other, throw toys, make huge messes, and get sassy with me. Levi won’t potty train. Neither of them will get out of our bed. (We are tired and want to be alone!!) I also let them watch WAY too much TV. Jacob never rises before noon. Who cares? I love them, their dad loves them, they love each other. No harm, no foul.
That’s a pretty hard outlook to hold on to if I jump over to the “We Never Spank, and Heart Our Family Bed” blog. Wow! Are they better than me? Are they? If you could see how many times I have tried to implement something in our home because another blogger said it was good and right, you would feel sooooo very sorry for my family. It’s an automatic fail. What works for one family does not work for MINE. The competition to be the Most Christian/Secular Crunchy Lactivist Intactivist Homeschooling Crafty Momma is brutal. The movement is damaging, hurtful, and alienating. It destroys friendships. It creates animosity. It makes it hard to love your neighbor. I hate it.
That’s just touching on the blogs that deal with THAT crap. What about the FOOD blogs? Dear me, I can’t keep up! Paleo, grain free, low carb, soaking grains, fermented foods? Sorry, but I don’t run a lab, I run a kitchen. After years of sharing a bed, I am too tired and crazy to make up a plate of @#$% my kids won’t eat. I have totally ticked off my husband trying to get these goofy ideas up and running. He wants meat and potatoes. Good. Done. Why do I want to see my kids crying at the table over some sort of purple fermented mush? Get outta here! There is no way in hades that I will ever believe that these women eat that way all the time. If they do, they NEVER have PMS, and if that’s the case I don’t even want to know them anyway.
Last, I must give some love to all the repurposing used toilet paper, modge podge my cereal boxes, and zero waste blogs. Thanks for making me feel inadequate. Thanks for making me care more about a TREE than my children. Again, I say these sites are full of it. There is NO way that these people live this way all the time. None. Doesn’t happen. If they do, then they have made garbage their idol. I say, keep it off the roads, paths, and trails, put it in a garbage can and be done. Don’t take/use more than you need. Repurposing was called crafts when I was in grade school. You painted up a coffee can and made a pencil container for your room. No guilt. No obsessing. Just fun.
Fun? What happened to that? Joy? Peace? What happened? From the time I get up I can seize the day, build relationships, work my lungs, give kisses and hugs. OR, I can get up, make coffee (free trade, recycled filter, reverse osmosis water?????), read blogs about how awful my life is, wipe my behind with cut up t-shirts, go over the periodic table with the three year old, check my cervical mucus, check on my soaked oatmeal, check my sucanat order, troll the pro-vaccine boards, wash out my tuna cans, roll my eyes at the neighbor who gives her kids Capri Sun, wash my hair with vinegar and baking soda, and everything else that sucks up my life. My LIFE. I get one. ONE. What is this alternate reality that is supposed to be the new norm. It’s ugly.
For the people who truly live that life and it brings them joy? God bless. They don’t blog about it. They live it. They tell you about it if asked. They don’t lecture. Most blogs have become giant finger pointing forums. It’s just another version of the high school clique.
Here is the video that set all of this off. At first I laughed and laughed. Then, I got mad.
Oh, yeah, I just blogged from the toilet. I ate spinach artichoke dip for breakfast. I put SPLENDA in my coffee. The TV is on. Bite. me.