The Internet is a strange thing. Nonhuman yet capable of evolving and maturing, it’s a much different Internet than it was 20, 10, or even five years ago. A digital manifestation of fashion, if you will.
I began blogging around 2001 or 2002, back when the word “blog” was more slang than legit. I had an “online diary” at Diaryland, which is surprisingly still in operation but apparently unchanged since I was a memeber so many years ago. It was as simple as possible: put the words into the box, add a title, and hit “post”. There were no such things as SEO or featured images or RSS feeds, let alone the maintenance of a myriad of social media accounts to promote the blog.
I ran across this comic on Reddit today and it is pretty much how I feel right now.
My least favorite chore is washing dishes. I hate it because I can wash all the dishes, but unless I’m home alone (which rarely happens), there will inevitably be a dirty dish on the counter in the next 30 minutes. I can spend an hour cleaning the kitchen and no more than 6 hours later it is a huge mess again. The only solution is to be constantly washing dishes and wiping things down as if I were some kind of dish washing robot.
I think it’s actually driving me insane. I don’t want to be a dish-washing robot. I want to be a person.
But this is my “job”, as it were. Keep the house, because someone’s got to. There really isn’t a way out of doing your chores, no matter if you are 10 years old or 35.
So in the end, I do the very tasks I despise as a way of keeping my mind off the fact that I hate doing them so much. Somehow, it usually works. But other times it makes me feel even crazier.
Can I get an AMEN?
Here’s what we’re having for dinner this week:
Monday: Coq au Riesling and Broccoli Salad with Bacon and French Bread
Tuesday: Roast Beef Sandwiches with leftover Broccoli Salad
Wednesday: Deer Steaks, Roasted Squash, Salad
Thursday: Spicy Chicken Soup
Friday: Baked Salmon, Caesar Salad, Parmesan Pasta
Do you have kids who argue and bicker? (I guess I could really ask, Do you have two or more kids?) Here’s a handy printable you can put on your refrigerator, frame on the wall, or in a moment of desperation, tape to the bathroom mirror. Your choice!
Today Portland Moms Blog posted a piece I wrote about becoming a mom of older kids.
There isn’t a word in the English language that accurately describes changing from being a mom of young children to being a mom of older children. A mom who’s done making more kids and is now concentrating on growing up the ones she’s got.
While the English language isn’t going to honor us moms of not-babies-anymore, I will.