This year, more than any since I moved back to NC in 2003, was one of achieved balance for me and my family.
My daughter decided to stop homeschooling (and I miss having her around the house. Kinda). (Okay, I don’t miss the snarky teen attitude all day long.) She has set goals for herself, and realized that some “close” friends were getting in the way of those goals. I’m so incredibly proud of her independence (though it’s also a gigantic pain in my ass at times). She’s established herself socially, found her “look”, and has realized that yes it IS possible to be a brainy chick and rawk hardcore at the same time.
Daniel and Joseph are nothing BUT change in progress as they grow. I can’t think of any major (out of the ordinary) milestones at the moment.
I finally found my groove at school, went back to work part-time, and have almost completely conquered the panic attacks. My supah-secret message board celebrated its first year, I joined BlogHer and BlogHerAds, and attended ConvergeSouth 2007.
And now, in order to make this post COMPLETELY meme-ish, here are my favorite posts of 2007:
January: I tripped the rant fantastic about being slave to Daniel’s texture issues. I also oh-too-briefly declared the right to choice.
February: My fourth divorciversary came and went, and I whipped out the boobs again.
In March I Calculated the cost of sick kids, had another cheap date, and stumbled upon a good visual interpretation of how I feel during panic attacks.
My piano came home, I pondered the dichotomy of pro-life campaigns, ranting about gender equality and packaged curricula in April.
May found me pondering life’s mosaic, and a letter to Campbell’s Soup company.
I loved my WordPress plugins, taught my darling CaraMichele how to introduce her invisible friend Jesus, sneaked my birthday in on my friends, and shelved the kids when Holly came to visit in June. And I kissed June off with a day in the park with Esbee from Life In Forsyth.
Overstimulation almost ruined our Kernersville Fireworks Experience, but I recovered and immediately dashed across the state lines to put my laptop in Mamaw’s lap. I broke some rather surprising news and pondered on blogging and self-censorship.
Hey Em? You’re not gonna get this done by midnight.
August was sweltering and I spent most of my time inside defending against blog scrapers, writing a letter to the girls who saw Knocked Up , Being Nice, being frugal, fantasizing about a bathtub.
September was a light blogging month since I started the Fall Semester at school. Mom wrote things down, I found some things, and wrote letters.
I gave Holly blue balls when she came to visit me in October. Then I dumped our kids on my Dear Sainted Mother and spent two days hanging out with The Bloggers and lovin’ it. I ranted about the lack of promotion of Kernersville’s feature in Southern Living Magazine, took some pretty pictures of rain, waxing thoughtfully on why I blog.
Lessons in procrastination kicked off November. I said goodbye to my baby clothes, examined a fork, and was mean to my Sainted Mama. I also embraced The F.
Light blogging was the theme of December as I dropped the fork I examined, prayed to Our Lady of Perpetual Laundry, asked for your kindness, and showed the Christmas Tree being vigorously protected.
Happy new year, kiss someone you love, and stay safe in 2008.
The way people find my blog never ceases to amaze me. A very few friends have me bookmarked, but the vast majority of people come from google searches - with one glaring exception.
Back in July 2006, indignation rippled through the blogosphere. Pro- and anti-breastfeeding mothers the world ’round spouted their opinion of a baby obviously nursing on the cover of BabyTalk Magazine. Obviously (at least, to me) ANY magazine about babies these days is going to show a little boob.
Wet Feet did a blog entry about it, and I contributed to her listing of “Boobs around the ‘net” - a bunch of moms who ALSO did breastfeeding-positive blog entries in one handy-dandy list. My own contribution is one of the shortest posts I’ve ever done: a photo of my boy milk-drunk and fast asleep, and a link to the brouhaha.
Although I don’t keep an aggregate total of my blogstats, I can say without a doubt that 90% of my non-search engine readers come from that link on Wet Feet. While I’m quite sure that by now the people clicking on that link aren’t interested in The Breastfeeding Boob issue, I’m going to talk about it anyway.
The whole thing highlights one of the more schizophrenic things in American culture. Letters were written to BabyTalk complaining about their children teen boys youth being inappropriately exposed to nudity. Yet these same complaining parents have absolutely no problem with exposure to the soft-core porn that is advertising (and truthfully, the media in general).
Most breastfeeding mothers are EXTREMELY conscious of the amount of skin they’re showing, and make every effort they can to cover up. BUT a trip down the well-trod paths of any shopping mall will reveal larger-than-life posters of photoshopped perfection clad in little more than a string bikini. Why aren’t the anti-nudity police harassing THEM?
I also don’t understand the whole “breastfeeding disgusts me” attitude. Breastmilk tastes a LOT better than formula. Although I haven’t taken a poll of any sort, I’d be more than willing to bet that these same disgusted folks will comment on their filthy (unsanitary) house, their heirloom family recipe that always makes *someone* sick, or how proud they are of their ability to perform … certain sexual acts (and swallow).
To them, I say: You REALLY need to STFU until you know what you’re talking about.
