So she will know me

In Verona a few weeks ago

I read an article in the Deseret News yesterday. Someone had linked it on Facebook (dear Lil' Lou—or rather Big Lou now I suppose—I challenge you to another week of Facebook fasting?) so I clicked it and ironically read it as Ada toddled around by herself playing with cups and crayons and this pink basket that is a quasi-permanent fixture on her head these days.

I thought it had a few nice things to say, but probably took far too many words to say them. It felt a bit manipulative and overstated for my taste. I thought back on the last nearly nine months of my life and realized that I've hardly used my phone at all (the beauty of knowing only a handful of people and not feeling brave enough to talk to three-quarters of them over the phone in a foreign language). It's much more Ada's phone than mine these days anyhow. But the article did make me think about my screen time in general. Naturally, it made me think about blogging.

A big reason I blog is so my daughter will know me. So she'll have some pieces of my writing, links to pop culture or articles I found fascinating, photos of things I thought beautiful, and be able to piece it all together and think, "My mother was a human with a heart and a brain and a spirit." But is that really the best way to help her know these things about me? And isn't it a bit presumptuous to think that she will care enough to read any of it anyway? (Though if she is anything like me, she'll be hounding her grandfather for years about getting a copy of that great-grandmother's journal he promised . . . ahem . . . Grandpa?)

Blogging and journaling can help our kids know us, certainly, but I have hardly read any of my mom's written thoughts. Regardless, I know the kind of woman she is anyway; the hardworking, forgiving, hearted, brained, spirited mama that still amazes me. I know her because I grew up at her side, spending summers together, talking in the car, singing to the piano, and even learning in the middle row of numerous math classes.

So while I'm sure the distractions will only mount as we take on more back in The States, I hope that I can give Ada indisputable truths about who I am by the experiences we share together and the observations she makes herself. As well as snippets of my inner-workings as I work them out in writing, of course.

Mommy Blogging Part 3: Jealousy and Glamour

Criticism of mommy blogging comes in many forms. The one I hear most often is, "Yeah, but doesn't it breed jealousy, covetousness, resentment, insecurity, bitterness and general discontent?"

Sure. If you're into that kind of thing. So does going to the mall or flipping through a magazine.

Ultimately, I think we largely choose to be jealous by dwelling on our lacks rather than our loves. (Like this: Gosh she is so cute. I wish I could be as cute as her. Oh wait, my legs look great in these shorts. And my hair hasn't felt this soft in years. . .) So while we can sigh and sob about how we're not as trendy or as put together, as organized or as much of a wizard in the kitchen, riding it off as discontent spurred by reading blogs is an easy scapegoat. I think we can spend just as much energy (if we choose to, that is) being happy for others, finding joy in peoples' cleverness, and experiencing genuine excitement over others' successes. Jealousy is the lazy-man's way of processing media. Take the time to get inspired!

This is what we can do when we engage in blogging as we would in a community. Because that's what this is, you know. Blogs have become a way for community to be freed from the limits of geography (although, I think we should pay more attention to geography and I think the general trend of loosing our sense of place is having detrimental effects on society. . . but that is another topic for another day. . .) We are able to connect with, share ideas with, and ultimately grow with other people who we wouldn't have the opportunity to share with otherwise. Isn't that cool?

Much of the annoyance over blogging stems from a feeling that what appears online is a sanitized, glamorized version of everyday life. Yes. This happens. But can you fault bloggers? Because while you see the occasional meltdown in the grocery store, mothers still dress up their kids and make them sit still and well-mannered for church. They themselves still put on make-up when they go out. They still dress up to meet up with old friends. It might be called dignity (or femininity). And honestly I think both of these things are largely lacking in today's world.

Yes, bloggers are the modern day autobiographers. And they might leave out a bad day or two (or two hundred). But I sort of like that. I like that I can get the hard stuff, the bad stuff, the depressing stuff, the reality stuff basically anywhere I want to look (open the newspaper; turn on the radio; sign on to Facebook; watch the news; read the weather report).

I like blogs because I like reading about women (and men) who relish in the good days and find beauty in the simple things. Because it makes me feel like I can too.


Read Part 1 HERE
Read Part 2 HERE

Mommy blogging Part 2: Audience

How is it, exactly, that mommy-blogs make mothers feel that they matter more? How do they give the SAHM validation?

Some say that it's all in the metrics, but if the answer lies solely in the measurable number of comments or hits per page, I argue that the number of mommy-blogs wouldn't double every 200 days (Lopez). There is something bigger that drives the need to record our stories from the trenches of everyday mothering.

One possible explanation of the mommy-blogger explosion is the audience (or perceived audience) that blogging provides.

Blogging becomes more than just an online journal or means of archiving photos and experiences because you hit "Publish" after each entry. The fact that someone could stumble across a published post makes blogging a public means of expression. It gives blogging an audience.

And audiences make anyone feel important.

You don't have to be a performer to have an audience. Leaders are scrutinized, co-workers often evaluate others' performances, students have peers, teachers have students . . . most roles in society have audiences. But motherhood's only audience is often only her kids (and let's be serious, how often did I applaud my mother's heroism in the kitchen, flexibility of mind and emotion, poise amidst chaos, and unmatched work ethic? Probably not once until I was expecting my own child).

In her article, Lopez wrote:

If the internet provides a forum for both the broadcasting of women’s voices and the community to support that voice, then we should be paying much more attention to the work that is happening on these websites.

Amen. Mommy-blogs are records of the important stuff of life. They chronicle the day-to-day mundanity (and occasional triumphs and breakthroughs) that ultimately shape other people. It's a record of creating societies and culture.

I liked the perspective of this woman's post who was in the throes of motherhood in the early 1970s. She wrote in 1973:

Where are all the fans?! Why couldn't someone be there to applaud, or at least nod in admiration...as I deftly, maternally fit a diaper? Or why not a chorus of ooh's and ah's as I place the pot of Spring Garden on the table, with murmured comments around about my ability to balance budget, nutrition and time in one clever meal? I would be modest....[in the face of praise]. An audience is all I require for the maintenance of....patience, wisdom and creativity. In a musical voice I can say to the child bouncing off the couch, "Furniture is not for jumping." The child is bored? "Why, here, Sweetheart. Mother has made this cardboard box into a robot." Exclamations of awe and surprise from the fans. But [the Mom, staying at home in] obscurity has no fans.... If the clean clothes are mounded high on the folding table and the floor goes a few weeks unscrubbed, who will know? If my voice demands harshly, "Get this robe picked up!" no one can condemn.

 Enter: the weblog. And here we are today, cheering on each other's triumphs and wiping away the cyber tears when they show.



Read Part 1 HERE

Mommy blogging Part 1: An Overview

I mentioned a week ago that I have been reading an article by Lori Lopez about mommy bloggers. I have so many thoughts about the article; how "mommy-blogging" relates to me, what I see blogging doing for women, what I think blogging does for communities. . .

A few months ago a boy from my freshman ward asked if he could interview me for a paper he was writing on mommy bloggers.  I thought: Who knew that he knew I still had a blog. And when did I become a mommy blogger?

I hadn't ever thought of myself as a "mommy-blogger." I started the blog the day before I moved out for college. Motherhood was probably the last thing on my mind then. I still think the term is a little big on me. Mommy bloggers seem more serious than I am. If they took a 7 day internet hiatus, they would have guest posts and giveaways scheduled to make up for it.

But I guess I am. Or I have become one. In a small way. I guess I'm still discovering what my relationship with mommy blogging is.

The article made a few points that stuck out to me. The first was that blogging about motherhood is a radical act because motherhood is seen as part of this private domestic sphere that women occupy.
By engaging in the constant sharing of experiences, mothers are creating a community through the intimate moments in their homes. Like I said in my post about the new public forum, I think that the act of sharing stories is empowering and important.

The article talked about the skewed representations of motherhood that used to propagate the media and how blogging has changed that. Lopez quoted a woman as saying:

We’re redefining the roles with our blogs. The messages we get about
motherhood typically either comes [sic] to us in sanitized or idealized form
(television shows, magazine articles) or sensationalized (newspapers). There’s
nothing in the in-between because the in-between doesn’t have a hook, an
angle; it doesn’t sell. So that’s what we’re dealing in here. The unexciting, every
day, in between stuff. But in doing that, we’re also delving into new territory.
Into radical territory, I think.

I like that. Because for me, it's true. I read about mother's experiences (and loads of other things as well...) everyday on the internet. Yes, it can sometimes be glamorized and maybe it's edited down to only the really pretty parts at times, but for the most part, I feel like I read about women who are trying day in and day out to do a good job at what matters most to them.

I think blogging is making mothers matter more. Or, it's making mothers feel like we matter. And that matters.