There’s so much talk around the internets about Alpha-Bloggers, A-listers, blogging to be published, etc., etc..(and I’m not pointing out that there was something wrong said, just that there’s talk about it, M’kay?) So much so I’m starting to go cross-eyed and now questioning my own existence in the blog world. And why? Why the hell should I care? I began this blog for me because I wanted to write, to have somewhere to share my thoughts and feelings and memories. I wanted a place that I could enjoy being me since message boards were far to restricting, confining and well - required conformance to what the administrator deemed acceptable.

I am my own administrator here, and in my life.

I share what I want, how I want and when I want. Should one enjoy reading what I have to say, well then that’s a plus.

That’s how I started out anyway.

In real life I am very much a Type-B personality.  I am laid back and go with the flow (for the most part). I take each day as I can and try not to sweat the small stuff (for the most part). In parenting I pick and choose my battles, I don’t hover over my children, I sit back and let them learn and play.

Okay so I get pissed off about messes in the house once and a while and I freak about shoes left in front of the door. But my kids have stains on their clothes, I leave the house without showering some days and I’ve even been known to shop in my pajamas before.

My blogging personality is so Type-A it sickens me. I concern myself with statistics, comments, designs and rankings. I obsess about the number of comments, why they may be lacking and how come I can’t have 600+ readers too!? What can I do to improve?

I’m always looking to improve.

Improvement is a good thing. Learning and developing skills to make ones self better can’t be bad, but in some ways it very much is - for me.

I fret over the fact that I feel I’m not funny enough, I’m boring, this blog sucks and I should just pack it up.

It seems to be changing me into a self obsessed crazy that determines her self worth by the number of hits, comments and feed readers I have in a given day.

Posts about what you should do to increase readership, successful blog designs, busy sidebars, social networking, blah, blah, and blah are prevalent in the past few months - or I’ve noticed them more then normal - and with that, I’ve noticed considerable changes in the community (as well as myself). While we’re becoming more and more obsessed with the challenges of being successful we’re forgetting about the writing. We’re forgetting about WHY we began blogging. I sure as hell didn’t start this blog thinking that I was going to be the next Dooce - actually, I had no idea who the hell she was, and I think I liked it that way because, for many, how many hits, readers and comments we have has taken away the quality and passion in our written word.

The petty fights over content, brands and other people’s perceptions of us seem to be consuming our abilities to celebrate each other and our own uniqueness that we bring to this community. Really? Who gives  flying fuck if two people have the same font in their titles or their names are similar? Does that really change who you are and what you bring to the world? People state their opinion - which they are entitled to do - and it’s perceived as a personal attack and the world comes to an end - for the second time that month.

I say: Fuck That.

I’m not talking about rallying together for a bra burning (or jock burning, if you’re so inclined) or being everyone’s best friend and celebrating womanhood (or manhood) and all that lovey dovey shit. I’m talking about just being ourselves. Be your own person and forget about what others think about you (me), your (my) blog and your (my) traffic.

Just write for YOU (me)!

Now don’t forget to leave a comment so I know how many people actually stopped by and read what I wrote. I’m so (not) kidding.

A Meme in Pictures

**(stolen without prejudice from Hilly who shamelessly stole it from Adena)

[I stole this AGES ago and stuck it in my drafts for a time that I would need it, cuz I'm awesome like that.]

Here’s how it works:
1. Go to www.flickr.com
2. Type in your answer to the question in the “search” box
3. Use only the first page
4. Insert the picture into your Blog

1.) What is your relationship status?

married
2.)  What is your current mood?

stressed

3.)  Who is your favorite band/artist?

Pearl Jam

4.)  What is your favorite movie?

Dazed and Confused

5.)  What kind of pet do you have?

pit bull

&

grey tabby

6.)  Where do you live?

Toronto

7.)  Where do you work?

construction industry

8.)  What do you look like?

messy

9.)  What do you drive?

Malibu Maxx (but black) I heart it so bad!

10.)  What did you do last night?

nurse mah bebe (for what seemed like HOURS)

11.)  What is your favorite TV show?

Hell’s Kitchen

12.)  Describe yourself.

complacent

13.)  What are you doing today?

parenting (HA!)

14.)  What is your name?

Samantha - a bald eagle at the DC Zoo - it was this or a bunch of neked boobies… I don’t get it.

15.)  What is your favorite candy?

Reese’s pieces

:::

Thanks for all the support regarding yesterday’s post. Mike found a job this morning - which is fabulous - same pay rate as the last place as well and will probably have more hours. BUT! This job requires A LOT more out-of-town work so God only knows how long he’s going to be gone at times which is totally not cool with me.

But he has work, so I can relax.

A little.

Until the first trip that takes him away from home for 6 months.

:::

Carter calls a rake a “dick” and when he pretends to rake something he says: “dick, dick, dick, dick…”

Is it wrong that I laugh every single time?

Ah, kids.

As I begin to compare the relationship I’ve had with Carter during his infancy compared to how I relate to Hudson now, I see considerable differences.

[Yes, being a parent the second time around is easier since I've been there before. I am more calm, relaxed and ready for situations that may arise: but even still, this is different.]

When Carter arrived I wasn’t as attached as I had thought I would be. I never was uncomfortable or unsure of our relationship, but I was irritated and resentful more so then I am now. Carter’s cries used to be like nails on a chalk board in the middle of the night where as I find a comfort in Hudson’s. I feel the urge to comfort him rather then resent him for disrupting my sleep.

I remember sitting on the couch with Carter and bawling because I just wanted to go to bed; this time around I find myself relaxed and enjoying the peacefulness of the late night hours: though exhaustion is just as prevalent as last time, it doesn’t consume me like before.

I feel a sense of peace with Hudson.

I wish more then anything I could do back and have that with Carter.

I wish that I could be the calm and relaxed parent I am now when Carter was days old.

But there are no re-dos.

Now that I look back more frequently, I see more signs of my apparent PPD then I thought I had - considering I didn’t even know I had it.

Even though I can’t make up for the times that I wanted nothing more then to shake him as he wailed or the horrible thoughts I had of ways I could make him quite I can, and have, moved forward from there and have become the parent (I hope) that he deserves. I love him more then anything and it pains me to my very core that I had thoughts like that about my child.

The embarrassment I have just for having those thoughts is unbearable: and though they are ‘normal’ - and no one really knows about them since I never shared them with anyone - I can’t help but feel a sense of failure as a parent to Carter during his infancy.

I wish I could forget.

Though I can’t make up for how I was - since it wasn’t even my fault - I can be grateful that I have changed and the depression hasn’t taken control of me again.

God, I wish I had this blog during that time. Maybe having written it all down then would have brought it all to light a little sooner for me. Maybe I would have been able to see it later on, you know, rather then hearing it from a social worker while I was in the hospital a day after giving birth to Hudson.

And here I thought for the longest time - up until about 2 weeks ago - that it was situational depression that brought on my need for anti-depressants and now that my thoughts have cleared, hormones have evened out and we’ve settled into more of a routine it’s become more and more apparent to me that it just might have been PPD instead. It pains me to know that I went through all that ‘alone’ and in the dark since I was never told what I was facing and that only NOW I realize just what has been going on.

Had we not had Hudson, I really wonder if I would ever have known that I suffered from PPD.

I’m finding talking about anything other then poop and spit up difficult these days since that’s what my life is completely consumed with. And though we’re all doing great, I’m now beginning to crave adult interaction.

I’ve become very much a homebody since leaving college: partying and the need to be out and about diminished considerably. I no longer find the urge to be out on a Friday or Saturday night, nor do I feel the ‘embrarassment’ or guilt for sitting home or heading to bed at 9pm (like last night). I guess I could be considered a loner since I’m perfectly content to sit at home reading, watching television, or sitting here instead of engaging in an activity that requires getting out of the house and talking to people.

While I was working it provided the adult interaction throughout the day to keep me sane; now I find that without regular adult conversation I talk Mike’s ear off when he finally gets home from work or I constantly try to think of someone I can all and chat with (even though I hate the phone with a passion) and though it’s really not the same, writing and reading blogs seems to satisfy that need for adult conversation most times.

I think I’m slowly forgetting how to interact with people.

Small talk has become harder and more uncomfortable and I really don’t enjoy it like I used to. Unless I’ve known the person forever or we have something in common, I begin to feel out of my element and very self conscious. I never used to be like that but it’s hard to force myself back into the outgoing and personable person I once was. Being more and more introverted over time has become the norm while breaking free and regaining an extroverted personality seems harder and harder as days pass.

The importance of cleaning your gutters regularly. Wez got treez!