Thursday, 12 April 2012
Kidspot Ford Territory Top 50: Feel the difference
I've been wracking my brain for a couple of weeks, punishing myself, what the Hector am I going to write about for this post? My golden ticket for a chance to win a trip to NYC to attend BlogHer and a Ford Territory for a year.
Here it is, I offer it up like a grown-up and female version of Oliver Twist, except my bowl's full of words - and I want you to have more. So not like Twist at all - but it was a good literary reference, yes?
Gather around. This is what I've come up with with a little help from my friends.
My journey into blogging began back in '89. When I went to Talent Camp at Lake Keepit for creative writing. And then I went again the next year and Jim Pattinson had a crush on me, and I physically felt repulsed. I was 10, he was probably 11, and he got a little too close for my liking. I have not forgotten you Jim Pattinson - or you're unwanted feelings for me.
Blogging was not yet invented - not to my knowledge anyway. But I tapped away on my Mum's electric typewriter in my spare time, short stories, poems, moving on to my grandfather's memoirs when I was 12.
But let us fast forward through my awkward years (and let's forget that I am actually still in the thick of my totes awkes years), we'll travel through time together and pop out of the time continuum right here.
My true blogging journey began when I started reading Dooce daily. I love Heather Armstrong. Her truth. Her honesty. Her wittiness. It made me want to get back into writing again. This was a time when I was just about to pop out baby number two. I felt like I was in parenting exile. Two years earlier I'd quit my job, moved to the other side of the city away from my friends - and into the home of my in-laws. AWESOME! This was a time when my MIL walked in to our dark kitchen to find me crying in the pantry. When my FIL told me I needed to talk to Matt after we'd had a massive barney. When parenting and self-esteem was at an all time low. And so was privacy.
I began banging out posts like it wasn't anyone's business.
And that's the beauty of blogging. It becomes everyone's business. And from here, like the fountain of youth - or in my case, a community of awesome, like-minded women (and the occasional male reader, hi Dad!) sprung PottyMouthMama.
A blogger was born. (And so was Tiny - but that's another story.)
If we take PottyMouthMama under the magnifying glass (and preferably not in full sunlight people, I've got fair skin) it comes down to this:
"If you prick us, do we not bleed"*
It's true. We all do. The truth is, I am just like any other mother blogger. You, me, we.
And that's the beauty of us.
I'm happy not to hide behind any facade. I don't need to amp up my life to seem like it's more glamorous, more exciting, more awesome than yours. Because it isn't. Trust me.
PottyMouthMama's point of difference is that life is ker-azy. Life is messy. Life can be sad, glad, mad, and rad - and all in one day.
I can talk about that with great verve. It's my very own story to tell. You love reading about Tiny's mischief. My bin diving escapades. About my struggle with work-home-life balance. I love curating stuff and things I love, or sharing stories about my banal life. Because it's my blog and I can blog if I want to.
So if you feel so compelled, please vote for me! I'd love to visit the Big Apple, so I can stop hanging out with these little apples and looking like William Tell and Snow White's love child.
* Totally stolen from Shakespeare. Someone that could have written a really prolific ye olde playe stylie blogge.