Well. I'd like to think you guys are ready to welcome me back with open arms, but after gauging your responses to Kara's recent posts, it appears my presence on this blog is obsolete. Luckily, I'm the parent, and this is not a democracy.
(Your mom's a democracy!)
Clearly, I'm feeling much better.
Ever since I posted that last entry, I've been debating when to return. As much as I love being a part of the blogging community and using this site as a means for creative expression, the way in which I was participating needed to change. I had gotten so caught up in posting for posting's sake that I forgot it should mean something to me. Tuesday night would roll around, and I'd want to talk about my upcoming high school reunion, but instead I posted a Weight Loss Wednesday because that's what I was supposed to do. So I did, even if I didn't want to. Thursday night would come, and I'd be inspired to write about the latest Clinton/Obama debate (first forty-five minutes equalled BOGUS), but instead I poured through e-mails about the return of Tragic Love Friday because tomorrow was Friday and that's what I was supposed to do. So I hatched up a few plotlines, even if I didn't want to.
You see the pattern, yes?
I wanted to return but wasn't sure how to break that cycle. I wanted to get back to the days where I blogged because I wanted to, not out of obligation. So I filed those questions away and focused on writing for Parents, trusting that when the time was right, I would know.
This past Saturday, I knew.
It happened at a conference here in Indianapolis, where local bloggers came together to provide insight on how to enhance one's personal and professional presence on the Web. I originally signed up to learn more about blogs as they relate to smart business practices but walked away with renewed energy for my own blogging vision and met some great people who will serve as blogging resources for me in the future. (If only I'd met Doug Karr and Chris Baggott before teaching my class! Missed Opportunity, you are a son of a bitch.) Like I said earlier, this blog is not a democracy. I like that it makes people happy, and I really enjoy the conversations, but ultimately, it's an archive of my life. A place where I can assign words to my feelings and explore new territories and reflect on what kind of person I want to be. And in order to make it worth my time--something I have much less of these days--I have to do it on my terms.
So I'm making some changes.
Effective immediately, I'm discontinuing all weekly features on this site. No more Weight Loss Wednesday, Brain Fest Friday, or Tragic Love Friday. I'll still write about health and wellness, but I won't let the calendar dictate when I do so. I'll still pose funny questions for us to laugh over, but I'll let them come naturally instead of forcing inspiration when it doesn't exist. And as for Tragic Love Friday.... What can I say? The whole idea of a part three started with readers volunteering to help, but when push came to shove, nobody had the time. And I completely understand. Hell, I don't have the time, and it's my damn story. A bunch of us came up with some great ideas, and hopefully, one day, I can do something with them. But until then, we'll have to make do with lil' Frema's original masterpiece, which I still think is pretty effing awesome, and if you haven't read it yet, now you know there's one more way to kill time at the office. You're quite welcome.
The new plan is to start including blog posts about topics that are important to me but haven't received much air time here in the past. Perfect example: politics. I am not a political guru by any means--ask me to name the mascot for the Democratic party and I will probably mimic a deer in headlights--but now that Luke and I are parents, now that we're laying down roots in Indianapolis, now that I'm old enough to appreciate how politics affect my quality of life--I'm determined to take a more active interest in our local and national elections. I want to figure out who I stand for and who stands for me. I want to ask hard questions and receive thoughtful answers from you. I've been afraid to tackle issues like that in the past because I am super sensitive and HATE the idea of someone judging me just because I hold a different opinion, even though I read posts from plenty of bloggers with completely different views and always appreciate seeing issues from other angles. As Doug said at Smaller Indiana's conference on Saturday, "Afraid of conflict? Don't blog." And not blogging? Is not an option.
I want to learn more about the opportunities available through blogging and make that learning process more transparent here. I presented a Blogging 101 session at a writing conference last fall. I studied blogging issues for a whole freaking semester! Why didn't I link to that PowerPoint? Why not post my syllabus? I don't know. But I won't make those mistakes again.
I also plan to do a better job highlighting the writing I do for Parents.com. I'm not sure why I downplayed this before--I'm proud of the work I do for them, just as if I were freelancing for a print publication. Plus, I've found that with my friends who write for other Web sites, the more they link to those gigs in their personal blogs, the more likely I am to read them. I trust that's the same for you. If not? Um, that's OK, too. (Frema says through gritted teeth because total monthly page views play a key role in renewing blogger contracts. But no pressure. Am Zen.)
After experiencng a brief, emotional bump in the road, life is sunshine and roses again. I have a wonderful husband and beautiful baby girl who both have given new meaning to my life. I work for a company that (finally) challenges me creatively and compensates me well, thanks to a new supervisor and more structured environment. Dare I say I love my job now? That I like being both mother and breadwinner? Because I think I really do. I'm no longer resentful that Luke's at home with Kara instead of me. How can I be when he's so damn good at it? It's no accident we each ended up in the roles that we did. Even though I miss them something fierce when I'm away.
Anyway, the point is I'm in the perfect place to take this blog to the next level and make it more reflective of who I am today.
So that the answer to "What're you lookin' at?" continues to be me.
For a while there, it looked like today's was going to be another bullshit entry--Luke and I woke this morning to find our wireless modem had no signal, and after a phone call to AT&T's tech support line, we learned it had indeed met its maker. At first we thought we'd have to wait a few days for a replacement and made plans to crash Luke's work (which is fewer than ten minutes away) and publish obligatory placeholder entries for NaBloPoMo, but since the modem had outlived the initial one-year warranty, we were free to hit to Best Buy and spend ninety dollars on a new one instead. Which we did, which is why I'm able to type at you from the work computer in my living room sated with Oreo pudding and Sara Lee cheesecake instead of an empty office building with no windows and probably no snacks.
Anyway, today was busier than yesterday--there was church to attend, Mexican food to feast on, errands to run, computers to reconfigure, and a little napping on the couch to do in between reading pages from The Big Book of Birth, a book I've really come to enjoy. It was tempting to post another quickie update, but you guys have been very patient and deserve better than the crap I've been slinging lately. It still might be crap, but at least not for a lack of trying.
...And on with the Q&A. Wilddreemer wants to know:
What is one thing you did as a child you hope your child doesn't do?
Take one of my shitty diapers and wipe the contents on the walls. Scoop handfuls of applesauce from the jar and eat it with my bare hands. Wet my pants during fourth grade math. "Accidentally" poke my sister with a nail file. Prank toll-free mental support hotlines under the guise that I was a thirty-something corporate professional whose husband just had been caught in an affair with his administrative assistant. Kiss boyfriends in deserted alleys to avoid getting caught by my parents. Scribble in library books. But the worst thing I ever done--I mixed a pot of fake puke at home, and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa--and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.
Wait, that last one was Chunk. My bad.
What is the one thing you are looking forward to doing most after finally having the baby, ie. drinking coffee, touching your toes, shaving your legs?
I've never been fond of coffee, I don't care much for my toes, and with careful (albeit uncomfortable) manuvering, I've been able to maintain normal leg-shaving activity, so those are out. So what I do miss? Sleeping on my back. Grooming my lady parts; hell, being able to see my lady parts without assistance from a mirror. Eating cold lunchmeat without fear of poisoning my unborn child. "Enjoying" my husband. Wearing clothes from New York and Company instead of Motherhood Maternity. I'm so excited about banishing my maternity wardrobe to a tupperware bin in our storage unit until it's time to do this all over again.
As much I as look forward to those things, though, I've surprised myself with the realization that, once this is over, I'll actually miss being pregnant. The first trimester sucked major ass--just thinking about all that morning sickness makes me nauseous--and with the exception of our ultrasound and some moderate fetal activity, the second one wasn't much to write home about, either. But the third trimester.... This is where I feel like I've really come to know my baby, experiencing her sharp jabs and gentle, wave-like rolls, rubbing my hands over the protuding shoulder or elbow or whatever the hell happens to be poking me at the moment. This is where Luke and I can talk to her and she can recognize our voices. This is where I know she's safe all the time, where nobody can get to her without my permission.
This is my first real glimpse at motherhood, and I cannot wait for the rest.