Hebrew National has invited four Tampa bloggers (myself included) to co-host a local picnic on June 26th. There will be all sorts of delish food (including plenty of Hebrew National hot dogs), music, interactive games and various kids activities.
Rumor has it there will even be a mechanical bull.
Um, step aside people. I am ALL over that.
While food, fun, family and mechanical bulls would have been enough to get me down there, I will tell you what excites me most about this picnic. We are going to be running a service project during the event. And what will our service project focus on?
The oil spill.
Details are to come but we are hoping to provide the Tampa community with the chance to participate in an on site activity aimed at helping local charities and organizations committed to assisting oil spill clean up.
I’ll be back later with further details but for now, please save the date.
When:
June 26th 11:30 – 3:30
Where:
E. G. Simmons Park
2401 19th Avenue, N.W.
Ruskin, FL 33570
(Off U.S. 41 in South Hillsborough County)
I have some interesting and odd spots on my skin. Like some living astral phenomenon, one could spend a lot of time mole-gazing and making varied celestial dot to dot creations across my skin. A triangle… the Southern Cross… look Ma, the Big Dipper! I have moley skin. So did my mother. And she had melanoma at my age.
Once I was done reading her post, I lifted my shirt up and stared down at the brown blips connecting the Big Dipper. Her mole looked a whole lot like so many of mine. In fact, I think I had her mole about five times over just where I had lifted up my shirt.
I don’t think five minutes had passed before I was on the phone with the closest Dermatologist I could find. They could see me next Monday. Perfect. I’ll be there.
Today is Monday and, after being looked over with a very fancy brand of flashlight in the doctor’s office this afternoon, the verdict is in. I too have a small innocent looking mole camped out on my tum that needs to go. Just like Julie, it shows signs of mild dysplasia which means it may harbor potentially pre-cancerous cells. After next Monday, the Big Dipper won’t be quite so big after all.
So how do I feel about all of this? Actually, I feel pretty good. I am glad I made that call and had my mole-gazing done by a professional. I am thrilled that there is nothing too serious going on. And I am relieved I caught this one sly spot before it it turned on me and potentially changed my life down the road.
And I am kind of inspired by the power of blogging connections and the change writers can affect just through words. Julie’s post slapped some sense into me. Duh. Go get checked. I live in Florida – land of excessive and uber damaging sunlight – and I have a history of skin cancer in my family. What, did I need sky writers to get me there?
Nope. Just a writer, another blogger, telling her story.
I hope I inspire some of you to go get checked. And if you would like to learn more about taking responsibility for your health, check out the American Cancer Society’s new campaign called Choose You.
So back to mole gazing but with a decidedly more watchful eye.
Over the past month, I have awoken to updates about the oil spill on the Gulf. While clearing my cobwebs over a bowl of Cheerios and some quick news, without fail I see the same thing: footage of gallons and gallons of oil bubbling up from the bottom of the sea.
This oil will ooze and spread and affect hundreds of thousands of lives – animal and person alike. It will have an enormous potentially unprecedented economic and environmental impact. Although, we have no idea to what extent yet. We have no idea how many eco-systems will be interrupted, or how many fishing businesses will go under, or how many beaches will be unswimmable making Florida not quite the vacation spot it used to be. But the oil keeps coming and those living in the Gulf’s coastal communities have no choice but to wait and see how all of this will unfold over the months and years to come.
It has filled me with such anger, fear and sadness.
But most of all? I am left feeling horribly helpless.
What can I do??
Well, I can write the hell out of this. And so can you.
The utterly fabulous Deb on the Rocks had an idea the other day. And my dear friend Maria and I jumped right on in. We would like to host a Love the Gulf Blog Carnival. And anyone else feeling as helpless as we are is welcome to come join the party.
Here’s the deal.
1. Write. Write how much you love the Gulf. Or about your memories of splashing on its shores as a child. Or maybe you need a place to vent your anger about what could happen. Or maybe you know a family whose livelihood is being deeply affected by this. Or maybe you have some breath-taking and beautiful pictures of the Gulf that must be shared. Bring it here, link it up, let’s collect our mutual love for the Gulf and make lots and lots of noise about it.
2. Post your link using the Mr. Linky widget here. Or post it on Maria’s blog Mommy Melee or Deb’s at Deb on the Rocks.
3. Pick up a Love the Gulf badge to put in your post or on your blog.
4. Spread the word. Share the Gulf love. Tell folks to come join this carnival on twitter (we’re using #lovethegulf over there), facebook or in the coffee line at Dunkin Donuts. Whatever. Just tell people to come and write. All are welcome.
Again. Like I haven’t been working for the past two years. But does it really count?
Over the past few weeks, I have been reunited with my old resume again. The years-old file was pulled up, dusted off and, with some effort and focus, it is now finally updated. But all this focus on my experience and value as an employee has got me thinking about my own perceptions of work and blogging and how it’s counted after all.
Before I was a blogger or a parent, I worked “for real”. I had a decent salary, I wore suits to work, I had an assistant and people I supervised and years of experience in a career I liked well enough for the time being.
Fancy, huh?
But then I had my first son and, after some heart stopping birth trauma, I dropped that nice salary to stay home and watch my son breathe and feed and make sure he actually exisisted after everything we went through.
And I don’t regret it. Almost seven years later surviving on one salary and a miracle, I am proud of every second I’ve spent watching both of my boys live and play and grow into the people they are today.
But during that time, I started blogging. Little ol’ me started writing and writing and writing. I found a furious affection for it and just kept writing. And then readers started reading. Two years passed and here I am with an enormous archive of posts, a boatload of loyal readers, experiencesbeyond anything I could have dreamed of and such curious titles as “Mommy Blogger” , “Freelancer” and “Influencer”.
Still. While I updated my resume, I wasn’t initially sure what I had to show for myself recently. Even after all of this hard work and all of these posts. It didn’t seem to count as “real” work. Why? Well, no one is paying me to do it. No one is standing over my head with deadlines expecting me to pump all of this out. I don’t have a fancy office or an assistant or co-workers to go have drinks with after work. No salary and benefits seems to give all this Morningside Mom stuff so much less value in my mind.
Which is wrong.
And when I fill out my information under “employment” on forms or meet new people or talk to family members about what I am doing, I’m still a stay at home mom – oh, and who happens to blog *blush*, which is no big deal.
Not ok. At least in my own mind, it deserves more serious consideration and, well, pride.
Why is that so hard to find?
There has been a lot of recent discussion about parent blogs, some of it not so positive. As if we are some sort of catty, free stuff grabbing, bon bon eating, children ignoring, blog writing annoyances. As if we’re not here taking our work seriously while still parenting our children well. As if we’re not actually professionals – fancy salaries or not.
But doesn’t it say something about a person to love their work and focus so carefully on it and maintain a purposeful writing schedule and attend expensive conferences and hold themselves accountable when they have nobody breathing down their necks and are paid absolutely nothing to do it?
And I have to wonder if the fact that we aren’t paid to be “influencers” does us some damage. Because not only are we at risk of not taking more pride in our own work, but we are more easily written off by media, companies and the interwebs at large. We’re just misinformed, chattering outlanders: not journalists, not paid professionals. And if you don’t like what we write, who cares, no one takes bloggers seriously anyway. Clearly, not being held accountable or associated with a particular company or not being given a monetary value can absolutely translate as no value at all.
Screw that.
After all these years of working and writing and caring so much about what I do certainly gives me and my writing value. And as I plugged things into my resume and reviewed posts in my archives, I realized that I have a ton of experience. A ton. While raising my boys, I’ve managed to get an extraordinary amount done on my own accord. And I’ve done it well.
I know being home alone without any one patting me on the back has withered my confidence to some degree. But resume writing always results in important soul searching and I’ve come to realize that all of this – right here, where I have so diligently and loyally posted my thoughts and reviews for over two years - deserves pride and it deserves recognition.
So there.
Ok. So fine. I feel a little better about myself. And that’s very nice, isn’t it? But what will it really mean down the line? Will I find employment doing something I already do and love doing? Or will I find myself starting from scratch because maybe my value as an employee doesn’t really translate just because I have a blog where I write.
Isn’t that nice, dear. Now. What have you REALLY done, hmmm? Perceptions of bloggers are what they are, no matter how much value I give my own work.
I’ll keep you posted as I always do. Until then, I have some ramblings running around in my head about my usual topics: my kids, some punditry, fabulous upcoming giveaways, missing my mom, Florida living, random ponderings and so much more.
It’s what I do and – take it or leave it - it’s what I do well. Let’s just hope that folks who might actually pay me in real, actual dollar bills think so too.
A year ago today my world was rocked by news about a little girl I had never met. If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile you probably remember that time well. On the other side of the country, another blogger’s daughter – a little girl named Maddie – had passed away. However, in the wake of her death, her community reacted. And this enormous outpouring of love and connection created something bigger than any of us ever expected.
If you are only now being introduced to Maddie, I suggest you jump over here and learn more about her. This child’s story has touched thousands and thousands of people. She put a beautiful face on an important cause and moved bloggers and families everywhere to act immediately. And we did.
Last year, Maddie’s team raised more money for the March of Dimes than any other family team. I was proud to be part of that team - my family walked with other bloggers here in Tampa. Shoot, little ol’ me raised almost $600 for the March of Dimes. Maddie made me do it, I swear.
Today, Heather Spohr is mourning the loss of her daughter one year ago. One year. Without her sweet baby girl. My heart is with her, my heart is with her, my heart is with her.
This spring here in Florida, we’ve had a crazy outbreak of purple wild flowers. Everywhere. I’ve lived in Florida for over 6 years and I don’t remember seeing these flowers before. For days, I’ve been passing fields of these flowers. Of course, the small patch that popped up in my back yard inpired me to snap a few pics. They are tiny, they are many, they are gorgeous. And do you know what all that purple has been reminding me to do?
Remember Maddie.
She loved purple. And purple stands for the March of Dimes. And I had better not forget that.
So I’m here to share these flowers here so that you won’t forget either. And perhaps you might consider donating to Maddie’s team this year. I’m walking with somefabulouswomen. And we’ll even be wearing tu-tus (here’s why). Come on, don’t you want to be a part of that? How about this. If I raise a lot of money, I’ll post pics of me leaping through the streets of Tampa, rocking that purple tu-tu with pride and passion.
(Come on, who are we kidding? I’ll post pics of me doing that anyway.)
So donate. Anything. Coins under couch cushions are accepted.
And please remember Maddie today and all that she stands for. Thank you.
I did something a little insane today. I bought my conference ticket to BlogHer 2010.
Some of you might be thinking that’s not so nuts. In fact, its a smart and expected move for most women (and even some men) bloggers today. Because if you want blogging networking? BlogHer will give you blogging networking. And then some. Thousands of people come together at these annual events, all connecting and relating and speaking at podiums and hunched over laptops and checking out the latest techie stuff or parenting gadget and making amazing ideas come to life deep within the belly of the Hilton NYC.
So frigging pumped.
But I’m kind of insane to be considering this. Why?
Well for one, blogging – as much as I truly, from the heart, absolutely adore doing it – brings me very little income to justify the expense. Sure sure, I got the early bird pricing but egads, thats a lot for us as is.
My blogging friends tell me to find a sponsor. And you all know I’m down for that. But I certainly can’t count on it either.
Also, I have two kids. Yeah yeah, I know, like no one else going to BlogHer has kids. But I have a husband with a keee-razy work schedule. And no right-next-door family to come to the rescue. I have some ideas and I know my husband will do what he can to make it work out – but I am nuts-o for registering when it usually takes small miracles to make sure my kids are covered.
But I am going to give it a red hot go. It can’t hurt to try. There is far too much blogging wonderfulness planned NOT to try. And you know what else? I kind of like conferences. I kind of LIKE talking to people and big crowds and excitement and meeting new people. Not that I don’t get nervous and all up in my own head, especially when I’m used to relating to the blogging world through words. I just really really like to talk in real life too, that’s all. And I’m thinking NYC + BlogHer2010 = me getting to put my blogging mouth in motion a whole lot.
Ok. So I’ve justified the insane cost of BlogHer because I like to TALK a lot. Awesome.
Wish me luck people.
…I’m off to go breathe into a paper bag for awhile.
I remember sitting in a room during a break out session about sexual abuse in college and watching the majority of women in the room raise their hands and admit to having been assaulted, abused or raped at one time in their lives.
I remember my friend telling me she had been raped on two entirely different occasions.
I remember a few friend’s telling me they had been raped. Or, as they put it, having sex even though they said no. But maybe he didn’t hear them. Maybe it was their fault for being so drunk. Maybe they shouldn’t have gone to that party anyway.
I remember my friends not telling me what had happened to them but still unraveling and struggling internally and working through what they could at weekly therapy sessions.
I remember my college friends setting up an “underground railroad” of sorts for a fellow classmate trying to escape her abusive husband.
I remember slipping what money I could to another friend who was trying to leave her abusive partner with children in tow, unsure of where to go or how to start over.
I remember assuming that abuse and violence just kind of eventually happens to everyone. And I wondered when it would be my turn.
Maggie Dammit, a fantastic writer and blogger, started a site a year ago today called Violence Unsilenced. And I am just one of many bloggers giving her and her site a shout out today.
Violence Unsilenced gives women (and men) a place to go and tell their story. It teaches, shares, connects and empowers each of its writers and readers. If you want to tell your story, read about those with stories similar to yours or support those who have experienced some level of violence in their lives, please visit and continue to support Violence Unsilenced.
Please watch this amazing video created by Maggie in honor of this site’s one year anniversary.
Dropping off, car lines, picking up, grocery stores, baseball practice, stop hitting your brother, don’t kick the seat, up and down the same roads we go, cracker crumbs trailing behind, to infinity and beyond.
Knowing that I spend this much time driving, my brother happened to notice that I had the option for Sirius XM radio in my car. So guess what he got me for Christmas? Love him for being so thoughtful. It was the perfect gift.
So now I have the option of over 150 different radio channels to scan through during my time spent driving. As I make my way to my son’s elementary school everyday, I’m searching, searching, searching. Amazed and entranced when a song and station identification pops up my screen. Oooooh…. lookee there…
*Squeeeeal…*
Its been a slight…er …distraction I might add also.
Anyhoo. So. While scanning through the endless list of stations, what am I looking for?
Well, first off, music. And there is plenty of that. I’ve been ROCKING out to “good but bad but I listened to it back then” 80′s and 90′s music. Culture Club, Debbie Gibson, Def Leppard, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam, I’m shameless.
Oh and current stuff too.
“I brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack! Mommy, that’s SILLY!!!! …Whose Jack? …And whose P. Diddy?”
Tik Tok on the clock, but the party don’t stop, no.
My family truckster spins the tunes.
And then there’s the new wave channel. Loving some old Cure and Smiths and Pretenders and doing the “Molly Ringwald” to General Public’s “Tenderness”. Or the Coffee House channel – acoustic covers of everything, even Cory Hay strumming old Men at Work tunes. Reggae, Frank Sinatra, alternative rock from the 90s (when I met my husband, oh the “Sweater Song”, sigh).
And there’s Disney Radio. It’s there, if I’d ever let my kids KNOW it’s there. No Jonas Brothers for now, mmm k? Thanks.
But now and again I am looking for a little talk radio. Hoping for something that catches my attention and pulls me in for the duration of the car line still creeping forward at an snail’s pace.
There are all sorts of news options which I like. A slew of ESPN and sports channels (whatevs, never listen to those). Religion, health, weather. And Howard Stern of course.
(Sidebar: While much of what Stern spews is garbage, I find myself listening sometimes. I guess I’m one of those people that gets so irked by him I need to hear what he says next. Which is, of course, his magic formula and why so many thousands of people listen to him daily. However, I will begrudgingly give him one thing. He does one HELL of an interview. He can get a celeb to say just about ANYTHING. Barbara Walters has nothing on that guy. Nothing. So, yeah, I’ll listen now and then.)
My most recent discovery is the COSMO channel. Oh ho yes. Now that there is a GEM. You know, it’s COSMO as in the magazine, but for radio. And one particular program is call “Cosmolicious”. Cute, no? And the 20-something DJs who talk using question marks chatter ceaselessly about every topic you might find in COSMO magazine.
“I dunno, I mean I think I would tell my husband if I got botox? Because like he would be mad if I didn’t tell him? But he might not even notice? For like a LONG time? So maybe? If he didn’t know? He couldn’t get mad at me about it? And then when he gets the bill? I’d be all ‘I’ve been getting it for a long time so whatever’?”
(True story.)
Like Stern, maybe even more so than Stern, I can’t turn the dial. I NEED to hear what they will say next. How do I make sure (hex? train?) my boyfriend so that he knows exactly what kind of 3 carat engagement ring I want without actuallytelling him? How do women get through Valentine’s Day WITHOUT (OMG you poor thing, it so sucks, I can’t imagine) A MAN? But if you DO have a man, what shape should you get your bikini area waxed for Valentine’s Day? A heart? Arrow? Landing strip?
So I’ll switch over to the Entertainment Channel now and again – which has some interesting stuff. But then there’s the Rosie Show. *Sigh.* I want to like it but, I’m sorry, it blows. The fabulous Deb on the Rocks called it a “Hot Mess“. And she is so right. And unfortunately its not even good enough to be that bad that I want to listen to see what variety of hot mess she’ll make today. Bored. Bleh. Next.
There’s always the Martha Stewart channel. Honestly? I think I tried it once. I felt like I had failed at all things Susie Homemaker just by flipping to that dial. Also, next.
And if you want to try and picture what a bunch of Playboy models look like, or what they like to *giggle giggle* do, there’s always the Playboy station. For the two seconds I don’t have kids in my car, that is.
Because Playboy isn’t the only station dropping F-bombs and verbalizing adult scenarios. That’s just what happens with satellite radio and so I take care to police what’s on with two wee sets of 6 and 3 year old ears tuned in behind me.
So back to the music I go. Which is totally fine because there is enough variety for sure. That and the family friendly comedy channel which cracks me up…
“Larry the Cable Guy is Tow Mader’s voice Mommy!”
…Ok, its not that funny.
But what am I really looking for? What is missing from the 150 station long menu of radio wonderment?
Well. Where the hell is MY station?
I want a women’s interest channel. Not Martha, NOT COSMO, not just news, not just sports. I want a women’s interest channel that talks about parenting and school and balancing work and kids and finding yourself after you’ve had kids and marriage and friendships and the dreaded post baby muffin top. I want a channel that debates current topics like Michelle Obama’s fight against childhood obesity or the fact that Florida still won’t allow same sex couples to adopt. I want a channel for smart women, who like to see things happen and change and work – but for women who also like to talk about the best padded bras out there right now to revamp all of what 14 months of breastfeeding took away. I want funny, I want witty, I want current, I want to think.
You know what? The blogging world might be able help Sirius out.
Because really, the perfect women’s radio channel on Sirius should be inspired by a combination of some of the best women bloggers out there. Take Aiming Low, Pundit Mom, Motherhood Uncensored, MOM 101, Deb on the Rocks, The Bloggess, Redneck Mommy, Uppercase Woman (oh I could so go on, really I could, because I know there are fabulous bloggers out there ALREADY doing webcast shows, rocking it better than Cosmolicious EVER could), include all sorts of topics mentioned daily on BlogHer, mix that with a whole lot of The Ellen Degeneres Show, some political brilliance from The Rachel Maddow Show and a smattering of the debate style from The View and, well, you’ve got my station.
Oh and if there are a few F-bombs or adults topics of discussion, bring it. If I found a station that good, I’d invest in a couple pairs of earmuffs for the boys in the back and let them kick the crap out of my seats as much as they damn well please.
Until then, I guess I am left doing the “Molly Ringwald” at traffic lights. And considering heart-shaped bikini waxes. You know, since I was looking to do something meaningful this Valentines Day.
So. The other day my innocent little Morningside Mom blog got hacked. It didn’t last long because I freaked out, switched on the Internet bat-call and the wonderful Shannon Entin came through for me once again.
She (thanks be to all that is good on the internets) fixed it.
And as someone who writes, but is woefully unskilled in web techie stuff – Shannon’s skills are so beyond just simply appreciated. I mean she may as well have been standing in front of my laptop, posed in tights and with cape flying in the wind out behind her, one foot propped on whichever toy lay closest. She is smarter than a speeding bullet and rescues non techies in a single bound. My hero. For reals.
Thankfully it wasn’t a hard core hack. Just someone hacking me because they just could.
(Bastards. I hope karma gets you good and you have a complete zit explosion before school next week and you totally get your ass grounded somehow.)
Lesson of the day? Keep your updates updated, change your passwords, keep your passwords (duh, but seriously) and back up your work.
Anyway, so the whole hacking business was timely. Why? Because I’ve been in kind of a strange place with online stuff recently. I think maybe it started last December when I saw some online ugliness rear its head. And then there was lots of chatter about moms being online so much. If we “digital moms” are getting so much done online, what kind of mothers could we be anyway?
(…because mothers can’t possibly multi-task THAT well. Because mothers wouldn’t work on weekends and late into evenings to get something done just because she loves it. Because mothers shouldn’t be doing JACK except stare at their kids playing, eating and pooping all day. Because any stay at home mom who might just happen to have some multi-dimensionality, some other interests, some drive and push in her life along side her love for her children COULDN’T POSSIBLY be a good mother.
I hate that crap. WITH A PASSION.)
So while those conversations were happening online and on cable news networks, it was only natural that I started evaluating how much time I spend blogging. It’s a lot of time.
However. I will staunchly defend myself on this. Like most of the amazing “digital moms” I know, I can assure you that my kids “tricycle riding, playground playing, snuggle and a book reading, homework sitting, ass wiping, coming home from school tripping, feeding, feeding and feeding” time is not compromised. I do those things and I do them well.
But that just started feeding into another issue I’ve been questioning. One most bloggers I know struggle with regularly. I suddenly started feeling that for ALL the work I pour into writing online and for almost nothing in return financially while being questioned about my capabilities as a parent for blogging in the first place…
(Note the daggers shooting out of my eyes for questioning my mommy skillz. Don’t even.)
All the work and time and effort I do put into writing online for not a ton in return other than the pure satisfaction of writing…
Well.
Is it really worth my time?
Is all of this worth anything?
Ok, I feel like I must sound so crazily unappreciative. I know blogging has brought me adventures and friendships and experiences I would never EVER have had otherwise. There would be no way any of it would have happened without this blog.
So maybe this whole post is just a whiney waste of my reader’s time.
But.
Still. I can’t help but question all of this sometimes.
And when my blog suddenly got hacked, all of it, all of this, seemed suddenly so vulnerable. One day, one decent hacker, and *POOF* all this is gone, all that hard work down the drain.
This online stuff is just in a computer after all. It’s not an organic, living, breathing thing. Its just vague internetty beeps, codes, whatever. One wrong delete button gets pushed or some system crashes somewhere and… its nothing.
Ok, I’m being dramatic. I know I am. If its backed up well enough, I should be ok. (I can hear tech-inclined folks telling me its so. And probably giving me a very eye-rolling “oh please” look when I question the real-ness of the internets.)
And you know what else is real, organic, living and breathing? The fabulousfriendships and connections I’ve made. THOSE are very real.
And something else which is extraordinarily valuable, very real and wholly alive is, well, my sanity.
Because while I do all that mothering stuff well (and enjoy doing it very much), there are days when I don’t see another adult until late in the evening, when the kids are fast asleep. I am not simply an ass wiping entity. I need to think. And use grown up language about grown up topics. And blogging offers me this. If nothing else, my sanity is handed over to me daily, like carefully prescribed doses of xanax in its own little while paper cup. Be a good mom, take your meds, nice job, back to your corner in your bathrobe where you rock and hum to yourself while parenting your children. Good girl.
Ok. Again with the dramatics.
I’m just trying to make my point.
I bust my ass online everyday but… when I shut my laptop… I can’t help but have the feeling that some hologram-like world around me has suddenly disintegrated and I am left standing alone in my kitchen again. The friendships are wonderful and important (I love you guys!) – but they aren’t right here, right now, for laughs and drinks and hugs, now, IRL. The experiences are fabulous, but they are fleeting and don’t pay the mortgage.
My sanity is priceless however. So hologram world it is. Bring it on.
Ugh.
But before I leave this post on that really pathetic note, I need to take some responsibility here.
The Internet and all of this blogging is only what you make of it. I’m writing all the time, but do I bust my hump to sell myself? Or my writing abilities? Am I all over SEO and Google ranking? Um. Not so much. I’m really sucky PR for myself. There are plenty of online moms who are making much more out of their blogging experience. Why? Because they have their own back. And I need to do that more. Put myself out there. Get more outside gigs. Not just sit here at home, sigh a lot, and wait for it all to drop in my lap.
Yep. So that’s that. All that has been rattling around in my brain about blogging, its hackability, vulnerability and my general purpose outside of parenting.
Back to real life. Or my hologram life. Which one? Or are they the same….
(Oh. Nice, hitchcocky ending.)
I mean Oscar Wilde probably had it right about life imitating art rather than vice versa.
Back to life then. Because it is my life after all.
It’s been a little quiet here for the past couple days. Because it happened again. Another tragedy in 2009. A friend and Florida bloggerlost her two year old son in a very sudden pool accident.
It simply left me speechless.
Shellie and I met this year at a blogger event. She is wonderful. Recently, she promised me I could come watch the next shuttle launch from her beautiful front porch. She had just moved into her new home. She sent me a picture and its stunning. And now this happens.
Nothing shifts the world off its axis more than the passing of a child.
Nothing.
And unfortunately I have seen two other mothers lose their beautiful babies this year too.
I thought I understood how it felt to mourn. I was so wrong. I still feel like the world froze in its place on July 25th and now I’m looking around, blinking with surprise, asking “What’s with all the Christmas stuff? Summer isn’t over. No way. My mom JUST died. What the hell is going on here?”
And then, right before Thanksgiving, with visions of healing holiday joy dancing in our heads, news about Anissa‘s brain bleed was shared. And to say that her future is uncertain… well. That would be an enormous understatement. She is amazing, her improvements are mind boggling. But still, my friend is in a hospital simply trying to communicate when I know she’d rather be home raising her children and tweeting about bewbs.
In between all of this, there have unposted tough times too. A best friend moved away, friends have had miscarriages, there have been broken hearts, dramas, and far too many lost jobs.
So I was already counting down to the end of 2009. Totally ready to wipe my hands of it, away with you, don’t let it hit ya where the good Lord split ya.
And then this.
So. Now. For real. Sure, yes, there have been somegreathighlights to this year but I am so done. SO DONE. So pissed and angry and hateful for all the sad that has unfolded, one month after another. It’s outrageous.
Enough.
Peace out 2009.
And 2010? Karma kind of owes a few people one helluva year. Here’s hoping.
To those who have lost loved ones or suffered a tragedy or loss this year, my heart is with you.
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