A friend sent me a blog post this morning written by yet another mom who writes yet another mom blog on Planet Blogitron, around which so many of us are orbiting in the vast Momiverse.
Did that sound cynical? Forgive me. The blog was actually quite good and clever and I forwarded it to a couple other moms who read such things.
I'm a mom with young children, who works from home, so I embody the Mommy Blog demographic. That means I feel lonely and isolated and crazy for at least several hours a day. When I first discovered there were cool and talented women out there, who were willing to get real about life and faith and pancakes and PMS, I perked up.
Since I am also introverted, and not so hot on leaving my house in search of new friends, I was thrilled with all my new cyber mommy pals who were quick with the perfect C. S. Lewis quote or a review of a snappy new lip gloss, or an embarrassing toddler comment about poop.
"Hahahahaha! LOLLL," I would respond.
"You think that's crazy?" I'd reply in the comments section. "Getta load of what my little angel said to the waiter!"
Then just like that, I lost interest in mommy blogs. Overnight. In fact, more than losing interest, I started to resent the very blogs I used to read and adore.
I didn't want to see any more step-by-step craft pictorials or toy reviews or photography pointers. I started to resent every quirky Instagram and poignant anecdote. I'd spew ugly mental ridicule like, No, really, blog lady with 40,000 followers, I am dying to know 14 different uses for the clothespin (even though I do love a good clothespin and would have taken copious notes a few months back).1