Worth a Shot, AnywayUgh. Spent days working on an application for a position as a professional mommy blogger and finally sent it in yesterday. I’m certain they won’t hire me because, jeepers, I’m just not your typical mommy blogger. Although they state they want unique voices and perspectives, I'm pretty sure they mean unique perspectives on cookie recipes, toilet training, and how to speak at PTA meetings without looking the fool. Topical stuff, tips, helpful hints….I dunno. I write about weird things involving Banjo Boys, isolation, and anthropomorphic beasts. I use the F-word. I think it’s a grand idea to drink many beers and produce bad poetry. I don’t attend church. My left nostril is pierced, for Pete’s sake, which makes me equivalent to the Anti-Christ in some eyes. I don’t do helpful hints, and my four-year-old still refuses to poop in the toilet. Gossip nauseates me; if you confide in me, it remains with me. I will not pretend to like you if I don’t. Unfortunately, I dislike many of my “peers.” Not surprisingly, I’m not someone who gets invited to many neighborhood coffee klatches.
I may be a very cool mommy, a patient, attentive mommy who has a lot of common sense despite a lot of foibles, a mommy who monitors what the kids watch, knows their friends, a mommy who believes that treating children with respect is of the utmost importance, that allowing and honoring their individuality is key to high self-esteem, but…I also call my vacuum cleaner vile names -- within ear shot of the kids. There are times (ahem -- PMS) when I bitch loudly about crumbs on the couch, cry over my fading youth and beauty, hate the world and want to be alone, alone, ALONE! I crank Disturbed and System of a Down CDs, and I wear tank tops and flannel shirts with my denim, not nifty little sweater sets and crisp, white button-downs. I have an active interest in my children’s school-life, and keep abreast of the curriculum, contribute to classroom party treats, keep in regular contact with their teachers, but I’ve never attended a PTA meeting, nor do I plan to. Too busy doing the ten hours of “parental” homework the kids’ teachers send home every week or making a robot costume out of PVC and silver spray paint. Plus, I’m just not a joiner. Here’s your box of twenty-five cupcakes for the bake sale, Mrs. Dinklebaum, now go away.
I’m more along the lines of Rosanne, not June Cleaver.
I’m not a typical mommy blogger, and I was honest about that, within my bio and the sample posts I wrote for them. And that will be my downfall, my honesty. But I can‘t bring myself to misrepresent who I am and what I stand for. Even if it would mean an extra few hundred clams a month -- clams I badly need, by the way, but I guess not that badly. I’m a writer who also happens to be a mom, and just as I won’t compromise when it comes to my beliefs regarding good parenting, I won’t compromise when it comes to my writing. No way in hell.
Damn, though. I really could use the money…And I do love to cook…Have a ton of great recipes I could share…And my home is spotless, despite four kids…My kids are, for the most part, healthy and happy, and they behave themselves in public…Suppose it wouldn’t hurt to throw out a tip here and there…
Aw, screw it.