Back in 2004, I believed I had a better chance of landing a guest star role on Tommy Lee Goes to College than having a baby.
Which, wasn’t a terrible show, given the premise and early adoption of the reality television arc, and it yielded a decent CD, Tommyland, which I bought and listened to on repeat on my way to and from work and did all the things childless people who wish not to be without children do to occupy their time.
Goddamnit, I had a LOT of free time on my hands.
Much like divorce, people REALLY don’t want to discuss the misfirings of your reproductive parts. Friends and family often tolerated my ramblings about being lonely and dating shenanigans, but launch a retort to someone’s bad day with, “…at least YOU didn’t have radioactive dye injected into your Fallopian tubes” and suddenly you’re a social pariah. So, I did what any respectable, barren woman in her late 20’s during the early 2000’s would do, I Googled the SHIT out of every and all topics surrounding infertility from the comfort of my couch while watching Gilmore Girls and, lo! I found my people. A community of stunningly brilliant story weavers, willing to share the hilariously humiliating, intimate, mundane, and darkest corners of their journey to parenthood and THEY LET ME JOIN THEM. Crazy bitches.
I kept my blog close, and hardly anyone in my real life knew about it. Eventually, my sister found it, and I shared it with a few others, and then I got spotted in my mall, and of course she and I became insta-besties, because that’s what one does when you’re spotted by a follower of your blog while bra shopping with two toddlers in tow, (SPOILER! I GOT KNOCKED UP EVENTUALLY!) and then you take her on a first friend date to Victoria’s Secret to purchase a bachelorette gift and live as friends happily ever after.
It’s truly a miracle I’m allowed out of my house alone.
This past weekend, I came across an archived version of my old blog. Horkin Ramblings, in all her Pepto pink glory, from which I treated Unicorn Boyfriend to some dramatic readings. Then, as if he hadn’t endured enough, I remembered a collection of posts, from my blog, that a friend compiled for my baby shower, and we read those, too. Y’all. It was GOLD.
And I decided, right then and there, under my white twinkle lights, on my deck in desperate need of painting, sipping a glass of $6 wine because we spare NO expense, that I’m bringing Mommyblogging back, OG STYLE.
(I had NO idea what OG meant until, like, a year ago, when I saw Teen Mom OG, and I praised Yeezus for a smartphone so no one knew I Googled the phrase OG, from the privacy of my own living room, except, now, the interwebs.)
But since my kids are now the ripe ol’ age of TWEEN, and would much rather I keep their privacy intact, and since I’m actively trying NOT to get pregnant because at my age that would be just crazypreggopants, and oh yeah, I’m divorced, it’s not exactly Mommyblogging so much as a dumping ground for the essays that will eventually comprise my best selling novel.
Or, more realistically, a blog that’s a fuck ton cheaper than therapy. You are welcome!
