Last night, after a long day of work/mothering/nose-wiping, I was sitting at the ‘ol laptop reading the most vile and troll-y comments on some article about something hosted somewhere on the internets and my blood pressure was rising steady, steady, filling up my ears like our stove-top espresso maker and then suddenly, epiphany: why am I reading this shit? My sweet sister Hillary, also a journalist, sagely pointed out that reading comments on any given article is equivalent to sitting in a public restroom and reading all the graffiti on the stall. What. What indeed, have I been doing, and why?
Blogging exempted, the written word is not generally intended to be a correspondence as it is a proclamation, and, therefore, is by its very nature not a 2-way discussion. Mind blown. I knew I had a problem as early as a year or so ago when I was indulging in a very infrequent (perhaps too infrequent) pasttime: reading an actual print newspaper. Probably while waiting in an airport somewhere. And as I finished the piece, my eyes automatically traveled down the page to see what ape_69_mofo thought about what I’d just taken in, in case his sage and worthy opinion might sway my own…what the WHAT.
Occupational hazard up in here, y’all. But I solemnly swear, from this day forward, that I will not – I repeat, NOT – be reading comments on any article that is not my own. And hell, maybe I won’t even read those comments, either. Part of the joy of writing, and the mystery of it, is that you’re creating something to present to the world, and it’s not a collaborative effort that deserves to be shaped by random feedback from strangers. Can you imagine if artists worked that way? Or architects? Or dentists? Imperfect analogies, but do you see what I mean? (And obviously this doesn’t apply to blogging, which by its very nature is ordered toward discussion. Different animal.)
Embracing my new found freedom, I decided to flex my domestic muscles last night and, in a profoundly ironic twist on the plunge into paleo living, I made everything bagels. From scratch. And I’ve eaten 3 in the past 12 hours. I can’t even … guys they are so good, I almost cried when I bit into the first sample. I told Dave that Einstein Bros was going to call and apologize for ever even attempting what I created in my humble, tiny Roman kitchen last night. Truly life-changing. And, now I totally look pregnant. Probably no correlation there. But this recipe + the addition of dried garlic and onion to the sesame seed topping….carb heaven, I tell you.
Joey is owning the potty. We’re on the big boy commode now, and his nasty IKEA potty chair is tucked away until little brother wants to jump on this diaperless train. It’s a legit miracle, because I was fully expecting to be diapering three little booties come Christmas time, but it’s been 2 weeks and I’m calling it ‘stuck.’ He has had a few accidents, mostly in connection with a nasty cold/ear infection combo which renders him slightly hysterical in the middle of the night, but the last 4 nights have been dry and easy. We’ll see what regression the coming months of 12+ hour flights and multiple different sleeping arrangements brings, but for now, I’m rolling in diaper money and he is sporting some of the cheekiest baby man bikini briefs that you have ever seen. I can’t put a picture up, because I do actually love him and trust me, this would be a scarring thing, not a ‘look-how-funny-and-adorable-thing.’ Plus, I want to be invited to his wedding someday. Or his ordination.
My job is changing just a bit and I’m now going to be creating original content for Heroic News at the new Heroic News blog. Regular topics to include: abortion, contraception, IVF, eugenics, euthanasia, embryonic AND adult stem cell research, gay ‘marriage,’ and human cloning. Bring your sunblock and your butterfly nets, because, you know…but please do stop by, and please spread the word on the www about HeroicNews.org/blog.
What can anyone recommend for debilitating pregnancy exhaustion, besides the obvious and unattainable? I’m toying with the stupidest of stupid ideas and thinking about giving up my morning espresso(s), figuring that maybe I will crash earlier in the evening and that 10 hours, rather than 8.5, will do the trick? All I know is this morning I was in and out of consciousness for a good 45 minutes during JP’s naptime, and I opened my eyes to find a nearly naked toddler crouched on my pillow systematically piling books and clean laundry on my chest.
Reading and loving this book right now. It’s our second literary foray into Duggarland, and color us dorky but we love it, and we love reading about how this family is raising their children and striving for holiness. Do we agree with every single decision they make or belief they proclaim? No, of course not…but I think that’s the case for almost anyone else’s family who you look at. What they are is a whole lot of inspiring, uplifting, and challenging, especially on the whole parental attitude front. I am often a raging shrew in front of my innocent children, and rarely to I stop to reflect on how damaging mommy’s habitual sour puss might be to their little hearts. But the Duggars make me stop and think. And to think, they do it without wine…shudder (like I said, toss the bathwater, not the baby.)
My pretty little baby sister is graduation today. The number 6 whose entrance made our family into a legit ‘they-are-definitely-doing-this-on-purpose’ public gawking spectacle. The sweetest, most inexhaustibly sanguine and most fashion savvy 18 year old on the planet. And to think, she’s already got a semester in Europe under her fabulous leather belt. Tia, I’m so proud of you and I can’t wait to see what the coming years bring your way. Wish I were there to see the sixth out of seven Senours walk the blue carpet tarp in Clune Arena at the Air Force Academy tonight. Sniff.
Now if you’ll kindly click over to the soon-to-be-published Mrs. Jen Fulwiler, Esq., I’ll see you to the door.