"mommy blogging"
Mar. 24th, 2009 12:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevFire up my rss reader. Read two sentences of a meaty feminist post.
Get interrupted by a two-year-old who wants something impossible. Redirect her to something within my capabilities.
Skim the two already-read sentences to regain my place. Read three more sentences.
Get interrupted by a two-year-old who desperately wants some oatmeal, of which she eats two bites before pushing it away.
Skim the already-read five sentences to remind myself of what I'd read. Read another paragraph, with my laptop at my left and a toddler's magazine on my right, alternating reading one sentence of the blog post to myself and one sentence of the magazine out loud to the toddler. Continue this until toddler pushes me away.
Finish the article.
Notice that the two-year-old has gotten into something she shouldn't. Extricate her and redirect her to blocks, which are safer.
Write six words of a comment on the post, which I started reading an hour and a half ago and finished reading fifteen minutes ago.
Get interrupted by the two-year-old, who wants "different blocks," and who is not dissuaded by the argument that she already has all the blocks we own. Agree that when daddy comes home she can "show daddy different blocks" and read her three books, twice each.
Write several more sentences of a comment on a post that it's now been over an hour since I finished (and over three hours since I started). Re-edit the first six words, because I've forgotten exactly where I was going with that.
Get interrupted by the two-year-old, who very sweetly asks mommy to read her another book.
Go back to the comment, remember that I had something very important to say, but I just can't remember what it was. Delete partial comment.
Start a thoughtful blog post. Alternate one or two sentences of blog post with five to fifteen minutes of toddler-wrangling.
Ask toddler, "did you know, your mommy used to be able to write long, cogent arguments about important things?" Listen to toddler's response, "knick knack paddywhack give a dog a bone." Figure there must be some meaning in there, somewhere.
Re-read what I wrote. Realize it's impossible to follow, and that while I know what I meant it would require significant editing to actually convey what I meant.
Delete incomplete post.
Make lunch for self and toddler.
Discover that while I was making lunch, toddler has gotten herself reading a catalog of kid's clothing-and-gear that very carefully follows the boys/doing/primary-colors vs. girls/being/pastel-colors. Spend large amounts of emotional capital not screaming. Recycle the catalog.
Interrupt the toddler, who is throwing a "I don't want a nap!" tantrum, by asking "Who do you blame?" Smile when she responds, "I blame the patriarchy." Unfortunately, she goes right back to the tantrum.
Post this instead.
Dedicate this post to Virginia Woolf and to this very relevant post at The Kitchen Table entitled "A Room of One's Own". Don't bother spellchecking or previewing, and figure this is the internet equivalent of appearing unkempt and frumpy in public, which I also do. Hit send.
Get interrupted by a two-year-old who wants something impossible. Redirect her to something within my capabilities.
Skim the two already-read sentences to regain my place. Read three more sentences.
Get interrupted by a two-year-old who desperately wants some oatmeal, of which she eats two bites before pushing it away.
Skim the already-read five sentences to remind myself of what I'd read. Read another paragraph, with my laptop at my left and a toddler's magazine on my right, alternating reading one sentence of the blog post to myself and one sentence of the magazine out loud to the toddler. Continue this until toddler pushes me away.
Finish the article.
Notice that the two-year-old has gotten into something she shouldn't. Extricate her and redirect her to blocks, which are safer.
Write six words of a comment on the post, which I started reading an hour and a half ago and finished reading fifteen minutes ago.
Get interrupted by the two-year-old, who wants "different blocks," and who is not dissuaded by the argument that she already has all the blocks we own. Agree that when daddy comes home she can "show daddy different blocks" and read her three books, twice each.
Write several more sentences of a comment on a post that it's now been over an hour since I finished (and over three hours since I started). Re-edit the first six words, because I've forgotten exactly where I was going with that.
Get interrupted by the two-year-old, who very sweetly asks mommy to read her another book.
Go back to the comment, remember that I had something very important to say, but I just can't remember what it was. Delete partial comment.
Start a thoughtful blog post. Alternate one or two sentences of blog post with five to fifteen minutes of toddler-wrangling.
Ask toddler, "did you know, your mommy used to be able to write long, cogent arguments about important things?" Listen to toddler's response, "knick knack paddywhack give a dog a bone." Figure there must be some meaning in there, somewhere.
Re-read what I wrote. Realize it's impossible to follow, and that while I know what I meant it would require significant editing to actually convey what I meant.
Delete incomplete post.
Make lunch for self and toddler.
Discover that while I was making lunch, toddler has gotten herself reading a catalog of kid's clothing-and-gear that very carefully follows the boys/doing/primary-colors vs. girls/being/pastel-colors. Spend large amounts of emotional capital not screaming. Recycle the catalog.
Interrupt the toddler, who is throwing a "I don't want a nap!" tantrum, by asking "Who do you blame?" Smile when she responds, "I blame the patriarchy." Unfortunately, she goes right back to the tantrum.
Post this instead.
Dedicate this post to Virginia Woolf and to this very relevant post at The Kitchen Table entitled "A Room of One's Own". Don't bother spellchecking or previewing, and figure this is the internet equivalent of appearing unkempt and frumpy in public, which I also do. Hit send.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-03-25 01:03 am (UTC)We have a three year old and a 11 week old baby.
no subject
on 2009-03-25 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-03-25 08:38 am (UTC)Hun, you may not have the spare time to formulate long, cogent arguments any more, but you're doing a damnfine job of raising your daughter!
no subject
on 2009-03-26 05:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-03-26 12:09 am (UTC)Hehe! That's beautiful!
no subject
on 2009-03-26 05:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-03-26 05:38 am (UTC)Of course, once we started playing Battleship, I found myself explaining aircraft carriers, and then I was explaining how sometimes you have to sneak up on the bad guys using ships because you don't have anywhere close enough to build an air force base, and then pretty soon I had the globe out and I was giving examples of places that are hard to attack by air given our current set of allies. So maybe that was a wrong turn, parenting-wise. I try not to dwell on it.
no subject
on 2009-03-26 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-03-26 05:50 am (UTC)Anyway, the reading conflicts with my gaming night & I'm not a big fan anyway. So while I *do* think I should get out of the house more often, this isn't going to be one of those times. :) Thanks for the heads-up, though!
toddler-induced ADHD
on 2009-05-12 04:16 pm (UTC)I think the toddler-induced ADHD and boredom is supposed to improve significantly with time, or so I've been lead to believe. Where I live, you risk ostracism if you say that you find parenting boring though. The first two years are down the rabbit hole, wonderful but totally outside normal experience. I love parenting but I also love working, for that glimpse of cerebral life and an uninterrupted cup of coffee. Also, don't say that in public parenting company in my nabe.
Anyway, I ran into your blog somehow randomly and thought I'd say hi. So, er, hi.
Haley Hieronymus