Thursday, September 17, 2009

More Fun With Verbs

I'm not dooce. I'm not even blackbird. But someone left a comment telling me they missed me, so I'm posting.

It's hard to believe that there was ever a time that I was obsessed with my blog stats. For 2005, I was probably lucky to get 50 hits a day. But then a few people linked to me, and I did a few giveaways, and the next thing you know, I would decide on a figure and become grimly determined to achieve it. Like "must-reach-100-hits-a-day-for-a-week," or "must-hit-200-hits-a-day-even-on-Sunday." And with perseverance, it would happen.

But this leads to a lot of blogging for the sake of blogging. Less living, more blogging. And not only does that lead to memes and Wordless Wednesdays and such, it leads to an unhealthy level of introspection.

Not that there's anything wrong with introspection. It's just that it's the province of the young. When you're in your teens and twenties, it's right and proper for you to spend a lot of time figuring yourself out. It's good preventative medicine. You need to figure yourself out so you don't marry someone completely inappropriate, or get married, have kids, and then have some kind of ridiculous midlife crisis.

Those are the years to put your energy into what you want to be.

But when you're in your 40s and 50s, that kind of navel gazing seems pretty stupid. You're in your peak earning years. Or, in the case of us housewives, your peak "put the oxygen mask on your own face, then put it on your children" years.

It doesn't matter what kind of person I want to be. I have kids.

So that's what I've been doing for the last two weeks. Running around putting oxygen masks on everyone else's face.

Shopping for back-to-school supplies, talking to teachers and advisors and resource centers and social workers, signing forms, attending meetings, writing checks, helping with homework, washing clothes, folding laundry, driving, listening, cooking, and comforting.

And reciting the time-worn limerick, "There once was a man from Nantucket," to prove to my son that the kid in his advisory who claimed he made it up? Is a lying sack of shit.

I've also been going to physical therapy three times a week, because I have frozen shoulder. To continue with my airplane analogy, my left wing isn't working right.

And just so you know, when you can't raise your left arm any higher than parallel to the floor? You end up cutting the shit out of yourself when you try to shave your armpit.

(P.S. My title comes from my son's latest Latin worksheet.)


  1. I could not have read this at a better time. I'm spending WAY too much time worrying about my blog and not about everything else.

    Good stuff Poppy.

  2. I'm reaching a point where I don't know where to go from here with my blog, too. Life is stabilizing. Life is pretty good.

    I still have ideas out there. they're just vastly different than what I have been doing.

    (SUCK ON THE frozen shoulder.)

  3. I saw someone put on twitter the other day, "Hey, daily blogger! Knock it off." and I realized two things.

    1.) I will probably never be a daily blogger because I write when I feel like it and although I truly love those who comment and read, I just don't care about stats.

    2.) Who the hell has time to blog every single day?! Hell, I can't keep clean underwear on my boys ever day, screw all that.

  4. And I just probably lost all of my readers that read your site.


  5. Someone also told you on the phone that they miss you.

    Oh wait, that was me. Never mind.


    Glad everyone's oxygen masks got placed correctly though. Y'know, as much time as I spend on planes, this is tres important. (And yes, I'm far too lazy to go look for that special accent thingie.)

  6. 'Guess I've been totally misunderstanding the mission/purpose of blogging. I thought it was a way for us to be 'us', share, and do whatever the hell we wanted to do whenever we wanted to do it --- unlike so many other rigid things in our lives. Do we really have a responsiblity here? And if we choose not, then what? The blogging police will come and drag us away? I could only hope for that!

    Poppy, you be careful with sharp things!

  7. I will blog until I have nothing to say. Which, unfortunately, doesn't seem soon. Just when I think I'm ready for a break, someone craps on me and VOILA. the best post ever.

    Whoever said you can't make gold from shit has clearly never blogged.

  8. I Love your oxygen mask metaphor. Sometimes blogging IS another chore, and then it's good to let it go because who wants to read what you have to say when you feel like it's a chore? But sometimes, like Tippyrich says, making a few minutes to blog is my own momentary pleasure in the middle of all the mom responsibilities.

  9. Loved the post. And since I'm embarking on my 28th birthday, I am thankful to still have a few years left of navel gazing. Your post reconfirms why I'm not ready to become a mommy. So thanks for that.

  10. ((((Hugs)))) I had a frozen shoulder a month ago and I have never known pain like it. Wishing you a speedy recovery xx


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.