Ordinary World
At the risk of sounding saccharine, man, do I love spring. I don’t know what it is about spring, but every year since the beginning of my reproductive years, I am overcome at the beginning of the season with this overwhelming urge to have somewhere in the range of thirteen children. No shit, it’s happened every single year since I was a kid — even during the brief spell in my life when I didn’t want children at all. The first few years, I was frightened and convinced that yes, this is what I want, thirteen kids. Yes, yes, I WANT to spend my entire life wiping bottoms and I won’t stop until they take my uterus away! You can’t make me!
But as I’ve aged and endured season after season of this bizarre fleeting urge to BREED BREED BREED, I at first slimmed down my springtime desires to four, and eventually realized that yes, this will pass by July, and I will become a normal person who is happy with whatever she decides to have and/or gets by the grace of God, even if that turns out to be nothing more than a houseful of pugs.
But isn’t that creepy? I wonder what sort of eerie pheromones are hurtling through the breeze come springtime that makes thirteen kids not only seem possible, but like a GOOD IDEA. Because for one brief season, I know precisely what Michelle Duggar feels like, and dude, critics of hers should know that it’s NOT HER FAULT. That’s some kind of nefarious biological programming there, that much I know.
It could be, however, that spring brings everything in massive abundance, and it seems a waste to create just one of anything. What’s the point of a singleton, when you have lilac trees bursting with blossoms, their branches so heavy with flowers that they bend under their weight and fill the air with their lush fragrance? Why have ONE baby, when our yard looks like a too-yellow ode to dandelions, the cheery flowers in alternating rows with their fluffy-headed descendants? I know dandelions are a pest, but between you and me, I love them.
I’ll tell you something else, and again, this may be spring talking (Quick! Hide the uterus! Oh — wait! It needs to be fixed, nevermind), but after living in small town Vermont, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back to an urban — or even a too-crowded suburban — area again. In recent trips to Boston, I was a little repelled by my old neighborhood; how close together the houses were, the fact that there was nowhere for kids to, um, commune with nature. (No, I can’t believe I said that, either.) Vermont has been full of lessons, from how not to choose a hairdresser to what kind of life I want, wherever we land next, if there even is a next. This may be it. You never know, I’ve learned.
And here’s something I never thought I’d say: I wouldn’t trade this semi-nomadic life I’ve had for the past several years for anything. My time in Florida was one of the most depressing, lonely and outright hilariously bizarre experiences of my entire life, and yet if I had the chance to do it over again, exactly as it happened, I would. I learned a lot — how to be patient, how to tell a good story, and how to maintain a sense of humor and perspective when it seems that there is no hope, no hope at all.
Life is just plain weird. Gloriously, graciously weird.
Anyway, before I leave you thinking that I’ve gone soft, I feel oddly compelled to add a speck of curmudgeon to this otherwise perfect spring reverie. The whole mommyblogging brouhaha after the Today Show — after any televised segment about personal bloggers, really — grated my cheese, but not for the reason it bothered everyone else. Yes, yes, fine, Kathie Lee is a vapid helium balloon, but what irks me about these segments is that viewers are only presented with the most extreme examples. And Dooce, likable and relevant as she is, is an extreme example that they latch onto like rabid dogs, assuming that we’re all rich! And blogging from home for millions! It’s not her fault; it’s just what they DO.
I mean, the way they chopped it up, anyone watching that segment would be led to believe that blogging is a quick and easy way to make money. Put up a Web site and watch the money roll in! Better than stuffing envelopes even! When obviously, for the overwhelming majority of bloggers, this isn’t a job, nor do we want it to be, not even a little. Even those of us with ads do it because eh, why not? Not because we’re planning to quit our day jobs and blog for fun and profit, although I don’t blame anyone who does. Besides, even if we wanted to, the level of income for most bloggers who DO attempt to monetize their experience isn’t what those segments lead you to believe. There is a difference between earning some money and earning a LIVING. And the kind of fame and notoriety some bloggers have achieved isn’t remotely something many of us ASPIRE to, that much I can tell you.
It’s like holding up Maureen Dowd and saying this, THIS is a typical newspaper columnist! Behold! A newspaper columnist’s LIFE! Meanwhile, Bob Enright at the Cape Coral Daily Breeze is thinking right, um, no. I spend my afternoons dreaming up soccer coach controversies for fourteen bucks an hour. And I’m cool with that. No thanks, Maureen.
This isn’t a particularly well thought-out point, but I guess I’m saying that deconstructing this whole thing is getting a little tiring for me (INSERT WHITE HOT IRONY HERE). Sometimes — for most of us, I imagine — a blog is just a blog. It’s a great way to get your shit out there, hone your off-the-cuff writing skills, meet some great people and read some truly hilarious commentary (I’m looking pointedly at all of you.) Sometimes I wish we could just let things be, although I know that’s not realistic. And now I’m going to take my own advice! No more! I won’t talk about it again!
Anyway. To atone for that little ranty rail, let me ask you something: Do you read Elizabeth Berg? Because you really should if you don’t. I was talking to Lawyerish about her earlier today, and I really do believe she’s one of the most underrated authors of our time. She’s incredibly popular and viewed in some circles as mass-market airport-y fiction, but my God, she deserves better than that. Her writing is exquisite. Frankly, I don’t care if any of her books even have a plot — I would gleefully endure pages and pages of her describing wood cabinets. Truly.
Have a great Thursday!
*Duran Duran
31 comments May 14th, 2008