It’s Beginning to Get to Me

I am very rarely struck by bald envy of another living person, but I am flat-out jealous of Michelle Obama. There, I said it. I know I’m sounding very 1960s Jackie O-type worship, but I’m sorry, she’s just. so. CUTE. Envy! Total envy! And a hot husband, to boot. Perhaps I could doll myself up like Marilyn Monroe and serenade him on his birthday in an effort to bring the parallel full circle. Or perhaps not … I may not be cute, but I have a great husband, albeit not quite the president of the United States, but he IS a technology geek. So, uh, take that, Michelle?

Sigh.

This weekend, the reign of Twin Peaks finally ended with the viewing of Fire Walk With Me, which gave us both nightmares for our remaining days, most of which involved me as Laura Palmer, which … oh God, gross. Also, let me say that I understand why it was booed by audiences worldwide, for it did neither jack, nor shit, to clarify much of season two. Not that I paid that much attention, mind you, but after having my mind bent over a chair and rammed up the bum with a broomstick, I feel like I was owed at least a LITTLE BIT OF AN EXPLANATION, DAVID LYNCH. (HA! Like David Lynch offers explanations for ANYTHING.)

Anyway! I would have written last night, but I ended up on the phone with my friend Maria for THREE HOURS, harkening back to the days of young Jonna as a 13-year-old, yammering on the phone until her ear became sweaty and painful upon all bending attempts. And, because we only talk every few months, I ENJOYED IT. This is an incredible feat, as I hate the phone, and I’m quite certain the last time I was on it for that long, it involved an M&A-related conference call, and I spent the majority of that time considering what pointy objects I could ram between my eyeballs.

We have a least out to a prospective tenant, so I’m pretty much a ball of anxiety and haven’t been sleeping until they sign the damn thing (OH MY GOD WHY HAVEN’T YOU SIGNED IT YET, PEOPLE). I know that sounds ridiculous, but between moving and living out of boxes, finding a tenant from afar and a variety of unsavory things, I’m dangling at the end of a very frayed rope. I just want it all to be OVER so that we may get on with our busy lives and maybe take five seconds to relax one last time before managing a series of round-the-clock feedings. And I won’t even talk about the fact that our current tenant is flaking out on rent for her last month, which makes me feel like taking a pointy object and ramming it between HER eyeballs. Or perhaps directly in one, especially since if she leaves and the tenants don’t sign, we’re pretty much fucked on having the place shown to prospects. You know, assuming she bothers to leave the keys.

Oh my God, someone give me a Valium. Oh, right. GREAT. Um, a paper bag? A paper bag would be good.

I’m sure you’re just as anxious as I am to finish this, so that you can, for the love of all that is holy, STOP HEARING ABOUT IT.

And finally, a brief vent about the state of the … momosphere. Oh my God, MOMOSPHERE. As I Tweeted (shut up) earlier today, when I first heard the word — and the site — momversation, I nearly rolled my eyes into the back of my skull, because, SERIOUSLY: momversation. Must we momicize everything? Can’t we just have a flipping CONVERSATION, or do moms not do that? A mom who is a business owner is a mompreneur. There are mommy blogs. There is a MOMOSPHERE, for crying out loud, and I’ve seen people use the word in an unironic fashion. These people may or may not be still alive, because I may or may not have hunted them down and killed them.

(For the record, I first saw the word mentioned at a time when someone said that the momosphere should be sensitive to the delicate little feelings of those who weren’t invited to … some corporate momjunket or something? I don’t know. But I knew then and there that the momosphere sounded like a place that I was a little afraid of.)

One of the reasons I waited so long to have kids (aside from uh, God’s delays) is that I was so terrified of giving up my identity as a person. Ironically, one of the things I’ve seen cited as a reason for mommy blogs’ success is that they give women the outlet to be something other than a mom! They can be a PERSON, too!

Except, apparently, they can’t. Those who are childfree have mentioned the exclusion they feel from this … I don’t know, CLUB, or whatever, and it’s not like I’m so far removed from that, what with my five whole months of gestating a squash-sized fetus and all. I never really felt it that much myself, but then again, most of the moms (and dads!) I read are really inclusive, well-balanced people.

What I think is the greater transgression is that those labels have the opposite effect — I see them as quite diminishing, in fact — and it’s going largely unnoticed, for the labels keep. cropping. up. I find the need to take “mom” on to everything parents do to be a little ABSURD, because God, are these things not considered/done by men, too? Or even childfree people? I mean, do you not worry about making friends? Or having a family with different political viewpoints? Or is this something ONLY MOMS can have a valuable perspective on?

I don’t know why I find this so much more bothersome than, say, women’s magazines and whatnot, and I think that sites like Work It, Mom! and Alphamom have done a great job of targeting moms (and regular folk) without being diminishing. But there’s something particularly grating about the need to cutsify everything mom-related that’s making me want to hurt someone, and the word momversation really set me off — the title, not so much with the concept, although the momjury (or should I say gestojury?) is still out.

For the record, I have no intention or desire to self-identify as a mommyblogger, today or ever — not that I have an issue with those who DO, it just seems so limiting for me personally — and if I ever have a momversation or become a mompreneur, I’m asking here and now for one of you to please shoot me, and do it while inflicting as much pain as possible.

Honest to God. I’m not the first to make this observation and I know I won’t be the last. But seriously. Momosphere. Momversation. As Y said to me earlier today, I AM MOMSTIPATED.

Happy Tuesday!

*Snow Patrol

26 comments November 10th, 2008