Missing: one snarky mommy
I was looking back at my archives last week and I have come to the realization that I have lost the funny. I can't pinpoint it and say, "Well damn, on July 13 I was hilarious and by July 15, I just didn't have it anymore." It's just I feel a little, well, off.
Sure, high-risk pregnancy is money when it comes to comedic blog posts. I mean who isn't catching their breath after laughing themselves into an asthma attack over the description of a dildocam session documenting yet another shortening of the old cervix? Or trying to ignore the stitch in their side after reading more hilarious adventures in pregnancy hemorrhoids?
But then I wasn't pregnant anymore and I had two kids and I whined about being home alone with them and how haaaarrrrrrddddd it was to have to feed, bathe and put them to bed BY MYSELF. That's funny. No wait, it's not. It's just whiny.
I looked back at a few recent posts and realized I have been mailing it in. I am going to try harder, but it's going to take some effort on my part. I think I would like to actually make something of this blog someday. And it isn't going to happen with me posting three paragraphs about my kid pooping on the potty.
Blaming Twitter was my first instinct, as I usually bring the funny there and find it so much easier to snark it up in less than 140 characters. No plot, no seques -- just amusing one-offs. But blaming Twitter is wrong. I used to be a reporter for God's sake. People paid me to tell stories in long form. It's my creativity that needs a kick in the ass.
Emmie got her first pair of big-girl shoes today. Goodbye Robeez, hello Stride Rite. We put the tennis shoes on her feet in the store and she laid down on the floor and declined our requests to walk or even to crawl, refusing to lift her legs because she had 50-pound weights attached to her ankles. Oh, the horror of shoes.
But then she spotted Grandma's Coach purse on the table and she couldn't get up fast enough. She toddled over to grab it and chew on the strap and completely forgot about the awfulness of her feet being encased.
Lesson learned: sometimes, you have to make an effort to move beyond your comfort zone. A nice purse as a reward doesn't hurt, either.
So from now on, I am bringing the funny back. Or at least trying to. I imagine my stats will be the judge of that. Of course Jack is on spring break for two weeks and all I will want to write are posts that sound something like "OMFG I am going to lose my mind because I am with my 3-year-old 24 hours a day. Please someone find me a babysitter already."
Sure, high-risk pregnancy is money when it comes to comedic blog posts. I mean who isn't catching their breath after laughing themselves into an asthma attack over the description of a dildocam session documenting yet another shortening of the old cervix? Or trying to ignore the stitch in their side after reading more hilarious adventures in pregnancy hemorrhoids?
But then I wasn't pregnant anymore and I had two kids and I whined about being home alone with them and how haaaarrrrrrddddd it was to have to feed, bathe and put them to bed BY MYSELF. That's funny. No wait, it's not. It's just whiny.
I looked back at a few recent posts and realized I have been mailing it in. I am going to try harder, but it's going to take some effort on my part. I think I would like to actually make something of this blog someday. And it isn't going to happen with me posting three paragraphs about my kid pooping on the potty.
Blaming Twitter was my first instinct, as I usually bring the funny there and find it so much easier to snark it up in less than 140 characters. No plot, no seques -- just amusing one-offs. But blaming Twitter is wrong. I used to be a reporter for God's sake. People paid me to tell stories in long form. It's my creativity that needs a kick in the ass.
Emmie got her first pair of big-girl shoes today. Goodbye Robeez, hello Stride Rite. We put the tennis shoes on her feet in the store and she laid down on the floor and declined our requests to walk or even to crawl, refusing to lift her legs because she had 50-pound weights attached to her ankles. Oh, the horror of shoes.
But then she spotted Grandma's Coach purse on the table and she couldn't get up fast enough. She toddled over to grab it and chew on the strap and completely forgot about the awfulness of her feet being encased.
Lesson learned: sometimes, you have to make an effort to move beyond your comfort zone. A nice purse as a reward doesn't hurt, either.
So from now on, I am bringing the funny back. Or at least trying to. I imagine my stats will be the judge of that. Of course Jack is on spring break for two weeks and all I will want to write are posts that sound something like "OMFG I am going to lose my mind because I am with my 3-year-old 24 hours a day. Please someone find me a babysitter already."
Labels: It's all about me
posted by Amy at
8:34 PM
7 Comments:
Your comment about your daughter and the purse certainly brought the funny back. I could see it clearly and laughed.
whatever you write is entertaining to me! :-)
You being you is funny. It doesn't matter what the subject matter is. I come here all the time to get my daily chuckle.
I'm a lurker. I found your blog through Jen Lancaster's blog. I don't remember if she made a most referencing your blog or if I found it in her blog list or what.
Anyway, I've been reading your blog for the last year. Your older posts about your high risk pregnancies caught my attention, but your humor is what has kept me coming back.
I was going through a high risk pregnancy when I first started reading. Incompetent cervix and small placental abruption. I was threatened with the "big C", but luckily I didn't end up with one.
I had a million ultrasounds and every time they pulled out the "dildocam", all I could do was think of you and laugh. Even my husband got a laugh out of it.
So thanks for all the laughs and keep up the good work!!
~Tricia
hunh. A reporter...I think I remember something about that somewhere once.
I feel your pain-- I just got through the miserable Staycation with the kids: http://www.bettyconfidential.com/ar/ld/a/Staycation_stress.html
We need a song, I want my funny back. those other bloggers don't know how to act! : )
Hope all is well! A big boy bed AND potty training--you are energetic!
I read your blog daily because of your funny. You make me laugh with your blunt honesty. Don't be so freakin hard on yourself!
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