What does one buy her husband to make up for the general craziness of the writing/blogging/freelancing life putting the sex life on the back burner when Important Things Are Happening that Must Be Attended to Right This Minute? I’m thinking the man-equivalent to Something Shiny and Sparkly.

Don’t say a Ferrari. I’m freelancing. That Writer-Speak for “Looks Good On Paper Only” with “Fucking Broke” understood to be the most accepted translation. Besides, it’s not like I came home smelling like another man’s cologne or something. That, my friends, would require what normal people tend to refer to as “Free Time”.  I have been told this “Free Time” is something one can only find outside of The Internet and requires the separation, if only temporary, mind you, of self and laptop. Always interesting, this learning about the habits of the Non-Writer.

The other night, after a frantic nod to, um, Quality Time, (and a “Was That Good For You? Yes? Good!,” exchange as I bolted out of the room and into my email to reply to a revision request from my editor, I realized I’m married to a saint. I mean, I knew that before Oh Husband Whom I Know is Reading These Words, but sometimes, the little Aha! Moments tend to jump out and say You Have No Idea How Difficult You Are to Live With Sometimes and Why is Pinterest Giving His Penis a Complex?

Let’s discuss, shall we? Or would it be easier to just get a calendar and a Sharpie and circle the other days of the month indicating:

  • Deadlines
  • Twitter parties
  • Sherlock
  • That blog post I REALLY need to write about that thing that just went viral that I’ll go to my grave swearing a tiny part of me wasn’t convinced my brilliant response would go viral, too
  • General stabbiness because ten different bloggers TOLD me I’m a much better writer than that two-bit hack that went viral only because she got lucky (after I asked them, of course)
  • My fictional characters in that novel I’m writing just acted out the next scene inside my head I have to write RIGHT now or I lose it all
  • The kid drove me nuts all day
  • PINTEREST
  • Live-tweeting Downton Abby
  • I got in a phone fight with his mom
  • I got in a phone fight with my mom
  • We’re out of chocolate
  • We’re out of wine
  • We’re out of chocolate-flavored wine
  • The hours I need to comb through blog archives in search of THE PERFECT PIECE of literary wit to submit to –
  • A) Listen To Your Mother
  • B) Blogher Voices of the Year
  • That Facebook quiz I need to take to figure out what character I’m most like in Harry Potter, which leads me to the one about what kind of French cheese I am
  • The dishes in the sink that aren’t gonna do themselves
  • The fifteenth online book launch party this month for yet another friend I can’t let down
  • The twitter argument I have to finish with this idiot who has no fucking clue who they’re messing with
  • The planets are out of alignment
  • Mercury is in retrograde …. Again
  • File another invoice while secretly cursing the chick with the 300 Sandwiches and the book deal
  • I’m busy buying 19 more URL’s for ideas I’ll never get to…just in case
  • Frantic text conversations with the online friends I’ve yet to meet in person discussing Important Things like how many pairs of shoes to pack for that conference none of us have actually purchased tickets for yet
  • My 1,000 word goal for the day is still 989 words short
  • The NEED to Google my blog Alexa rank RIGHT NOW even though I still have no idea what it means
  • Which, obviously, is to be followed up by checking my Klout score
  • *Googling “Does Klout Matter to People who don’t think in 140?
  • I haven’t yet taken 30 selfies from different angles, narrowed it down to the perfect one, and thought up a witty caption for that #365feministselfie thing and posted it EVERYWHERE before I even THINK of getting naked
  • That important email I’m waiting for that will show up right now if I keep hitting refresh
  • The conference call I’m waiting on in east coast time with everybody else in west coast time
  • The kid drove me nuts all day & we’re out of chocolate-flavored wine
  • The writing and scheduling of next week’s blog posts
  • When I was frisky while he was at work and I was home alone and I took care of it myself already because I was being proactive and really should be congratulated for thinking ahead to free up my night to …
  • Pick any of the above

Damn. Poor guy puts up with a lot, doesn’t he?

We writers are a special bunch. And the people who are nuts enough to love us deserve their own reality shows, I think. Because when we make it big? That’s when we make it up to them and they can proudly tell the world they knew marrying the crazy lady would totally pay off in the end.

Just let me finish up this chapter so I can write this blog post and hit Publish because dammit, this one’s gonna go viral.

I just know it.

 

 

Social media has made me a parental super hero.

Ever since Eliana was a little thing, twitter and Facebook and (more recently) instagram have connected me to an entire world to which I wouldn’t otherwise have access. (And yes, I almost ended this sentence with the word “to” but then the voice of a former newspaper editor said something in my head about unicorns dying, so I changed it to read like I actually follow proper grammar on a regular basis. Also? I like unicorns. Anyway….)

Princess Katie of Princess Katie and Racer Steve (have your volume off when you click the link if you’re at work) once tweeted a FEEL BETTER in response to my update about Eliana being sick. I’m pretty sure the wide-eyed wonder in Eliana’s face as she blinked up in pure disbelief while I read PK’s well-wishing tweet is what cemented my role in the Parenting Hall of Fame. Not only did PK know who I was, she knew who Eliana was because of me. And because Eliana had no concept of twitter or followers or what in God’s name a social media update was — and because I handle almost all of my SoMe updates on my iPhone — the tweet became a text and that meant that Princess Katie Had My Phone Number.

That means I win at Parenting, y’all.

Since then, I’ve been asked to text Santa her Christmas list, the Tooth Fairy to let her know another tooth was loose, the Easter Bunny to let him know we moved, and countless other Magical Beings about countless other Magical Things. On the flipside — and because Mama is gonna milk this for as long as she can — I’ve stopped tantrums in their tracks and witnessed Feats of Perfect Behavior during Otherwise No Good Very Bad Days  simply by muttering something about how Santa just texted a poll to parents asking their thoughts on how many pieces of coal should appear in stockings for the kids on the Naughty List.

I’m an evil genius and you’re welcome.

Not too long ago, maybe around the time we launched Eliana’s blog that we don’t have the time to post on as often as I’d like, texts became tweets and instagram became AppleDog and the Story Pirates nominated me for Best Mom on the Internet. Okay, so not really. But they should and I’d totally be gracious and surprised if they actually did because I’m modest like that. Also? I probably deserve a cookie for making it 400 words without saying a bad word so you’re welcome for that, too.

Back to the AppleDog story…I took a picture, Eliana asked me to tell the Story Pirates on AppleDog so they could see the picture, too, and they did AND RESPONDED.  Had it ended there, I’d still be just as giddy as the day I realized I could use my iPhone addiction as a peace negotiator with The Guardians. But then this happened….

No seriously…where’s my tiara?

I have no words for how awesome today was made simply because of this exchange. It highlighted to me exactly why the Story Pirates are the phenomenon they have become with the kids who listen to their podcast, check in on Kids Place Live, or are lucky enough to see them perform in person. The concept is brilliantly simple and beautifully executed: kids write their own stories, submit to the Story Pirates for consideration, and if selected, the story is turned into a play and PERFORMED on air or on stage. If not? The Story Pirates have been known to write a kind word or two on the back of submitted stories before sending them back to the hopeful playwrites. It’s creative inspiration, acknowledgement, and the fostering of literary love all wrapped in glittery awesomeness.

Today’s update from the Story Pirates wasn’t just a feather in my parenting cap. It was the moment Eliana realized she has a voice.

Plus I totally have Santa Clause on speed dial now…so sorry about that tantrum your kid just threw in the toy store.

 

This totally makes up for high school. y'all.

 

 

The official Girl Body Pride Bracelet has been exclusively designed for us by the ever-talented Berkey Designs on Etsy.

 

This beautiful aluminum cuff bracelet is hand-stamped with the Girl Body Pride tag (Just The Way We Are) on the outside and the personal mantra that became www,girlbodypride.com on the inside.

 

Pretty, isn’t it? You could win this exclusive Girl Body Pride aluminum cuff bracelet designed for me by Berkey Designs on Etsy during tonight’s #30secondmom twitter chat. I’m leading the discussion tonight and we’re talking Body Image: Learning to Love Your Reflection in the Face of Societal Pressure to be Perfect.

There’s also a Zamzee up for grabs for one lucky chat participant!I love my sponsors, and I think you will, too.

I would love to see you during the #30secondmom party tonight, and your support would be greatly appreciated in getting the word out.

 

Send a message to your social media friends by cutting and pasting the following in a tweet or any other social media forum:

 

Learn 2 love yourself no matter what! Join @aspiringmama & #30secondmom Wed 8pmCT/9ET RSVP 2 win prizes:http://bit.ly/xwg237

Join #30secondmom & @aspiringmama 4 an amazing body image chat! Wed 8pmCT/9ET RSVP 2 win prizes http://bit.ly/xwg237

Who’s in?

 

 

I think I have blogger’s block. Normally, I’ve got about a million ideas swimming through my head with roughly 95% of them earmarked for Blog Posts I Would Have Time to Write if I Hired a Nanny and by the time I sit down at night to get the ideas on the screen, I have to decide which idea gets to be born into words and off I am on my merry way.

Lately, however, I’ve been struggling. Maybe it’s lack of motivation. Maybe it’s stress. Or maybe I most likely need to borrow some of HC Palmquist’s Ambien or Robin O’Bryant’s pet Leroy and see where those avenues take me for inspiration. I had originally been thinking of buying a huge metal chicken named Beyonce to be my muse, but looks like that’s already been done. So instead I’ve been finding myself staring at an empty square on my screen waiting to hold my words while Add New Post kinda just stand there, mocking me.

A new post about what? Maybe it’s just me, but I sometimes wonder if I need to filter my moods when deciding what to post. When it comes to blog hits, funny works. Introspective? Not so much. But that leads me to question why I am blogging anymore if my only desire is to see an upward trend in readership because if ‘m not writing for myself first than who am I writing for?

I’m not going to take some bullshit high-road and tell you that I’ve reached nirvana and no longer care what you or anyone else thinks and will be happy to just share my words on a public forum that no one other than myself makes time to read. I’m not going to tell you that being authentic is more important than being popular, mainly because, even through I agree with the sentiment, the blatant overuse of the word when it comes to blogging makes me want to pull my hair out. And I’m certainly not going to tell you that while your writing needs to be for you before it’s for anyone else, you had better damned well be thinking about your audience and your numbers and your popularity and your ability to network with other writers/bloggers/social media innovators to get your name out there for the sake of that Godforsaken platform because we’re happy your authentic blog that you write for religiously and maintain just for you because the mere act of sharing your words even if no one else is reading them is cathartic in and of itself but really? Who told you all that shit didn’t matter?

It’s all very chicken and egg-like. It doesn’t matter if our dream is to connect with others in the same place in life (shout out to all the Mommy Bloggers and a big WHAT UP to the Writer Mama’s out there!), or if we are trying to keep our heads above water in an ever-rising sea of expectations regarding what we need to have accomplished to be deemed worthy of a book deal (Bump-its come to mind), or if we just want to prove to ourselves that after wrangling the kids all day and looking for that nerve you are pretty sure you just had, we can still string together a sentence for other adults that don’t include the words “potty, nigh’ night, or Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you not to flash strangers your Hello Kitty panties to strangers in the middle of Target?” A dream is a dream is a dream. It’s just up to us to sift through the bullshit on the way, kick any and all irrelevant emotional baggage to the curb (being careful to store away the relevant emotional baggage for later use in the appropriate essays, articles, books, and or blog posts), and decide each and every time we sit down to send our words out into the universe what drew us to do so.

For me? This blog is my personal space which I publicly share. Sometimes I’m snarky, funny, offensive. Others I am introspective, reflective, and revealing. You might not like or appreciate the snark or maybe introspective isn’t your thing. And that’s okay. I’m not writing for you. I’m writing for me. And if something I say just happens to connect with someone who just happened to stop by on a particular day, that will be enough for me. I wore a mood ring as a child to let the world know without speaking the color of the thoughts I carried within my head. Now, there’s an app for that.

So which came first, y’all?

The chicken or the egg? The inspiration to share or the inspiration to influence?

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