Inspiration Constipation
Today’s guest post is from John, who writes at The Adventures of Daddy Runs A Lot. I can’t remember how I found his blog, but I suspect I followed him after reading one of his thoughtful comments on someone else’s blog or one of his funny tweets. All I know is once I started reading, I was hooked.
Enjoy!
***
The thing about writing for an audience that is, essentially, just like you (what, you’re not all tall, bald, musician, marathon-running bloggers with twisted, possibly-heretical senses of humor who can’t sing?) is that it’s easy to run out of ideas. We’ve all been there . . . it’s not that life is bad, it’s just that, well, current events just aren’t blogworthy. It’s not that we don’t want to write for our blogs — it’s just that we’re not feeling it.
In short, blogstipation strikes.
- The first rule of advice for when blogstipation strikes is the same advice that any doctor worth his salt1 will tell you — don’t force things. Forced writing can lead to really, really bad things . . . most notably, a loss of the enjoyment of writing. I’m just as guilty as the next guy2 about forcing a smile. And, of course, I’ve forced writing before — and, every time I’ve done it, I’ve taken an unexpected break from everything, in the hopes that my love of
dick jokesthe written word would come back to me. So far, it always has . . . but, more & more, when I find that I just don’t want to sit down and write, I don’t. A day or two later, I’ll be back with a vengeance. - Every little bit helps. If you took a peek through my drafts, you’d likely be afraid, because my thought process is awkward, and I have a plethora of quasi-completed posts that really only barely make sense. But, sitting down and getting something out, provided that you’re not forcing, and lead to a great deal of relief.
- Next, as long as I can, I read what others have written. Just like picturing a river flowing might help one overcome a shy bladder, reading what others are writing can help get the words flowing. It might be a turn of phrase that someone uses reminds you of your 3rd grade teacher, which reminds you that cursive is a completely useless skill, like being able to tell when squirrels are afraid, which was Janitor’s sixth sense in Scrubs, and then you find yourself writing a list of your favorite sitcom characters of all time . . . which is always a great post because people can stop by and commiserate that they just don’t make television like they used to3 and those young whippersnappers need to get off of my lawn.
- The blogging world may be the one place where people actually want to look at your vacation pictures — use this. Use this well.
- Dick jokes are loved the world over . . . as are boobs. Write about them, and people will come. Who cares if they’re disappointed when they get there? Heck, some of the funniest, and easiest blog posts are those about the wacky search terms that lead people to their blogs4.
I wonder…
About the Writer:
Like most everyone he knows, John is both a conundrum and a work in progress. He holds out hope of writing a novel, and a musical, and a symphony, and learning to ballroom dance while both meditating to a state of higher awareness and sculpting a great masterpiece. He’ll never give up those hopes.
He holds a BS in computer engineering and works as a web developer, but when he talks about his profession and education, he’ll talk a whole lot more about his classic-rock cover band and that minor in music he picked up along the way.
If you’re not careful, he’ll actually talk your ear off talking about his kids (two, a boy & a girl, seven months apart). There is no greater thrill to him than playing in the pit of a community theater production. He’s deliriously proud of his juvenile sense of humor. He laments the rampant misuse of the word “enormity.”
Despite suffering from a serial lack of sleep, you’ll find him waking at 4 in the morning to train for his next marathon, or triathlon, or whatever the heck else he decided to put his body through. John lives with his wife, two kids, two dogs, and a cat in central Pennsylvania, and his blatherings can be found at Daddy Runs a Lot. You can also follow him on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest.
Whatever You Do Today
Every once in while, as you bob and weave through the blogosphere, you read something and think, Yes! Exactly! and Thank you! That’s why I read blogs, and – truthfully – why I write one. Because sometimes we (the readers, the writers) find each other on just the right day. Today’s guest post was one of those. Amy sent it to me on a day I was busy lugging around a load of disappointment in… myself. I read her words and the negative internal dialogue went poof!
I’m excited to host Amy here today. We met first on Twitter when I stalked wrote to say I loved her book, and have since had the chance to hang out a couple times. This is the truth: Amy’s every bit as fabulous in person as she is on the page (or screen). She’s the real deal, people. And I’m thankful I know her.
With that, here’s today’s guest post…
***
I’m just dipping my toe in the Pinterest waters these days. I’m not sure that I really need another social media garden to tend, but it’s calling to me, and I’ve been lurking a bit, searching, not knowing what I’m even looking for. Sometimes life is like that.
And then I saw this:
And the gift of that statement socked me right in the solar plexus, taking my breath away.
What if, at the end of today, I didn’t look back and castigate myself for the things I didn’t get done?
What if, at the end of today, I don’t hate myself because, after twenty minutes of my child shrieking at me, I shrieked back?
What if my second book, my screenplay, my blog, all my writing that fills up my time without my children and fulfills my need to create, could bring me joy without a sense of obligation? What if I could think to myself “Lucky me! I got twenty minutes to write today!” rather than “Twenty minutes? And you call yourself a writer?”
If any of us are ever going to get anything done besides being a mother, if we are to create at all, we need what Martha Graham called
a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us
marching and makes us more alive than the others.
But the world won’t end if I don’t get to the gym this week, if I order pizza for dinner, if the speech I’m giving in March goes untouched for one more day, if I am a mother and writer and woman who is less than perfect. For my work, I need the blessed unrest that keeps me marching. But for my husband, my family, my life, I need to let whatever I do today be enough.
I wonder…
:: Why is this a lesson so hard for many of us to learn?
:: Do we as women and mothers have a harder time with this than men do?
:: And is that fault in the stars, or in ourselves?
***
About the Writer:
Amy Wilson blogs at whendidigetlikethis.com. She is the author of When Did I Get Like This? The Screamer, The Worrier, The Dinosaur-Chicken-Nugget Buyer, and Other Mothers I Swore I’d Never Be and the play Mother Load. This spring, she is directing the New York City premiere of Listen To Your Mother. Join the When Did I Get Like This? Facebook page or follow Amy on Twitter.
The Best Day
I love Wednesdays, and I hope you do, too. Why? Because it’s guest blogger day! Today’s guest is Kimberly, from All Work and No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something. You’re guaranteed to feel something when you read Kimberly’s writing: she’ll leave you in stitches, tears, awe, and often all of the above. She’s also a kind & generous blog friend. I’m so happy to host Kimberly today, so let’s get to it!
***
I was elbow deep in the sink washing dishes when he blasted through the door.
“Today is the best day of my life!”
I snapped my head towards his direction.
He’s never this happy when he comes home.
Seriously.
And I may or may not have a slight complex because of that.
“Did we win the lottery?”
“Oh. My. God. Babe, this is so awesome. I have to call Ken.”
Ken, my husband’s BFF.
If Ken had a vagina, my husband would be all up on that.
That man crush runs deeper than their thick chest hair.
I watched as his hands excitedly punched in Ken’s digits.
“Wait. Whoa. What is going on?”
“This is epic. The Ti….Ken! Did you hear? Is this not the best day ever?”
“Babe, what is going on?” I asked…
Okay, it was more like, “What the f*ck is going on?”
But since this is not my blog, I will keep this story as clean as possible.
Because I’m a f*cking respectable person like that.
“Shhhhhhh…Babe. Seriously! You are ruining my moment!” he whined.
My eyes zoned ferociously into his soul as I clenched my jaws and burst into
flames.
“Gah…ok…fine. The Detroit Tigers signed Prince Fielder.”
:::Blank stare:::
“Babe, he is a baseball God. This, this is just the best day of my life.”
:::Record Scratch:::
I’ve had a lot of days in my life that I would consider to be the best.
Like when I found a really good hairdresser.
When my boobs grew big enough to fit in a real bra.
When I got my driver’s license.
When I graduated from Nursing School.
When I lost my virginity and thankfully had my period the next week.
That one night in Niagra Falls.
When I met my husband.
And the day our son was born.
Those are “best” days.
The Detroit Tigers? Prince? What?
I will never understand my husband’s undying love for his favourite sports teams.
Never.
I could never get him to look at me the way he looks so lovingly at balls.
Baseballs, footballs, basketballs, and I’ll throw in a puck.
Get your mind out of the gutter people.
I will also never understand how a team could hire a dude for $214 million to play baseball for nine years.
And how this man, Prince Fielder, this “epic” moment counts as one of my husband’s best day of his life?
My husband doesn’t even own the team.
He’s a fan.
A fan.
As my stomach turned while watching him squeal in delight with his beastly bromance, I decided to not deflate his testicles that had puffed up with Tiger pride.
Instead, I slipped him our MasterCard bill and gave him a peck on his cheek.
Because I’m a good wife like that.
His eyes widened and his knuckles turned white as he grasped the phone.
He reached for a pen.
And wrote this down:
“Pft. It’s going to be bigger when I buy season tickets this year.”
Touché Shawn.
Touché.
I wonder…
Bromance.
About the Writer
Kimberly is a mom, wife, nurse, postpartum depression and bipolar 2 disorder ass kicker. She longs to run her fingers through Chuck Norris’s beard hair. When she’s not busy baking the best facking cookies ever and earning frequent flier miles at her psychiatrist’s office, she blogs about the chaos she calls “Her Life.” You can follow along on the blog, Twitter, Facebook or StumbleUpon.
Babysitters I’ve Known
It’s Wednesday… Guest Post Day! Today I’m excited to host the one and only Literal Mom, and guess what? Her name is Missy. She’s most definitely my second favorite Missy, after myself and before Missy Gold (remember her? Benson? Sister of Tracey?).
As I was saying, Missy of Literal Mom fame writes about being thinking parents, and she’s here today with a funny post about some of the babysitters she’s met over the years. Enjoy!
***
I’m so thrilled to be here at the fabulous Wonder, Friend today. Missy is such a thoughtful and beautiful blogger and I love how she wonders about various topics.
Here’s something I’ve wondered about for some time. And until Missy invited me to appear at her lovely location, I didn’t really think about putting it into words.
How do Babysitters get to be the way they are?
I know some of you don’t do babysitters. And more power to YOU for being able to parent around the clock without them. My husband works long hours, so having babysitters has been part of my and my children’s lives since my oldest turned one.
And I’ve found that babysitters run a full spectrum from “AWESOME! SHAZAM! BOOM!” to “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST LEFT MY CHILD WITH THAT PERSON.”
So today I thought it would be fun to talk about them a little and maybe see if you have any Babysitting types I missed.
Babysitter Type A – The “I don’t listen to your suggestions babysitter”
This babysitter nods sagely to your to do lists, bedtime routines, snack allowances and TV watching limits. You feel pretty good that they “get” your needs for the kids. Then when you come home, you learn the kids have been watching TV for hours, chewing gum, eating snacks and creating TENTLAND in the living room. And they’re still awake at 10pm.
This babysitter type can be anyone, but most often, this type is known as . . . GRANDPARENTS.
Babysitter Type B – The “Messy Sitter”
This babysitter leaves your house significantly dirtier than when you left. She leaves the dinner dishes on the dinner table with the food congealing, she doesn’t pick up (or encourage the kids to pick up) the toys. You may find toothpaste globs on the bathroom sink and dirty clothes on the floor.
I once had a sitter not clean up a potty accident one of my children had. She just breezily stated as she walked out the door, “Oh, she had an accident. It’s on that chair over there.”
These sitters are only in it for the money or because their parents are making them do it. Or they’re lazy. They clearly did not take the Red Cross babysitting class.
Babysitter Type C – The “Crafter”
This babysitter will do crafts with your kids THE ENTIRE TIME YOU ARE GONE. Even though this sitter is prone to also have Babysitter Type B qualities (likely due to her artistic leanings), you don’t care because she has mentally engaged your children. That and she’s done something every single one of us maybe a few of us dislike. Crafts. Shudder.
I wonder where their energy comes from, but don’t really care because of what they’ve done with my children.
Babysitter Type D – The “Side Chooser” Sitter
Rare is the sitter who can identify with all children in the house. But, the side chooser clearly favors one of your children over the other and the “unfavored one” notices. Becuase that’s what kids do.
These sitters usually don’t last long in our house. Too sad for the unfavored one. And really – how hard can it be to love a child who loves jumping on the furniture?
Babysitter Type E – The “Personal Space? What’s That?” Sitter
This sitter will let your kids jump on YOUR bed, do fashion shows with YOUR clothes in YOUR room, and then take pictures of it on her cell phone and proudly show them to you when you get home. And when you go up to your room, the fashion show remnants are still lying all over your bed and floor.
Think I’m kidding? Don’t I wish. I STILL wonder what this particular sitter was thinking.
Babysitter Type F – The “Disengaged” Sitter
This sitter comes and talks on her phone, texts and emails her friends and listens to her ipod while watching your kids. The kids don’t quite know what to do with her level of disengagement, so they tend to be very well behaved out of fear.
Babysitter Type G – The “Mary Poppins” Sitter
This sitter listens to your instructions, follows them, reads to your kids, reads your kid’s individual personalities and can address their individual needs, and then, THEN! After the kids are in bed, she empties your dishwasher, tidies up your house, straightens your counters, and folds the kid’s laundry if you “accidentally” leave it where she’ll see it.
Rare is this sitter. Keep her if you get her. We have one like that right now and I’m hanging onto her so tight she might not be able to breathe sometimes.
I hope you have enjoyed this Babysitter Type Tour.
I wonder…
:: Did I miss any?
:: Have you ever wondered how they get to be the way they are? I have, only because I’ve had so many interesting ones.
:: What do you think?
***
About the Writer
Missy Bedell blogs at Literal Mom, where she encourages all parents to be thinking parents. She uses wit, humor and sometimes even tears to communicate with her audience (and her kids!). You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter. Oh, and that yummy newish love of hers, Pinterest.
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The Ultimate House Cleaning Checklist
Today’s the day: the first in a series of guest posts here on Wonder, Friend! Today’s guest is the talented Genie in a Blog, my friend Leigh Ann. I’m so fortunate to know her in real life, and am thrilled to share her writing here today!
Let’s get right to it…
***
The other day I was perusing the mother of all time sucks, Pinterest, and found what could be a life changing thing for me: a Daily Quick Cleaning Checklist that boasts that even I can get my entire house in order with only 30 minutes a day.
Sign me the freak up! I have a house. It’s not very neat, thanks to the three small children who make the messes and a good dose of laziness on my part. Surely I have 30 measly minutes in which I can complete this checklist, right?
Okay, let’s get started. The kids have just finished breakfast, so this is my prime time to get something done before they realize I’m not really there with them and start to self destruct.
Kitchen
Clear out and wipe down the sink, put dishes in dishwasher (5 minutes): Right! Thanks to my superior mothering skills, my kids have already brought their dishes to the sink. The husband has not. Lament extra seconds wasted in gathering his dishes. Get to loading dishwa–GAH! Kink in the plan! I run my dishwasher at night, and now I have to unload. Okay, deep breaths. This’ll only take about 5 extra minutes. A nice clean house in 35 minutes instead of 30 isn’t the end of the world. Sip coffee. Now stop talking to yourself and load load load! Oh, wait. Serious drama in the living room over a plastic frog. Must referee.
Wipe down countertops and stove (1 minutes): This one I can do. I knew lack of available counterspace would come in handy. Sip more coffee. Man, it’s good. Wiping, wiping…okay whose McQueen is this? Ooh look! A coupon for $.75 off mayonnaise! Where’s my coupon file…meh just put it back on the counter. Sip more coffee. Glance at the stove with it’s egg spatters and Cheerio crumbs and call it a lost cause. I don’t want to fall farther behind schedule!
Wipe problem spots on the floor (2 minutes): I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Exactly which problem spots are you giving me 2 minutes to wipe up? How do I choose? If this is an all or nothing game, I think I have to skip this one. Besides, I’m being summoned to the bathroom. May as well give up in here and get to work in there, right?
Bathroom
Wipe out the sink (30 seconds): You’d think this would be my sweet spot, what with all the time I spend in here waiting for various children to do their business so I can be their butt butler. Two minutes in and all I’ve done is pretended to be Holly to my kid’s McQueen…yes, while she was doing her business.
Leave bathroom to hand out post potty bananas because when did it get to be 10:30? (2 minutes): And yes I washed their hands.
Wipe the toilet seat and rim (15 seconds) and swoosh the toilet bowl with a brush (15 seconds): Yeah, that sounds gross. I’m going to save myself 30 seconds and leave that one for my knight in shining Clorox. I’ll just close the lid instead. Problem solved. *wipes hands together in satisfaction*
Squeegee the shower door (30 seconds): Ha! I don’t even have any shower doors! Man, I’m getting through this list like gangbust–OMG what is going on in there??? Do NOT step on your baby sister! Oh, you were “just kidding?” I’ll step on you and show you “just kidding!”
Stand in middle of house trying to remember what you were doing before your pesky children interrupted you (60 seconds): I’m really good at this one.
Bedroom
Make your bed (2 minutes): Easy peasy. I’m glad this part of the checklist doesn’t include “do something about all that laundry laying over your footboard.”
Do something about all that laundry laying over your footboard (4 minutes): Gah! They got me. Fold t-shirts reluctantly. Shoot dirty looks at overflowing laundry basket in corner. Laundry basket does not respond by sorting itself into color piles or walking itself to the washer. Children have now climbed into bed, tossed pillows askew, and knocked folded clothes on the floor.
Straighten nightstand (30 seconds): Sorry, it took me 30 seconds just to collect all of last night’s snot rags from these blasted cedar allergies.
Living Room
Tidy the sofa (2 minutes): Straighten cushions and pillows, fold throws, watch as three children run in and one by one throw themselves over the back of the couch. Straighten cushions and pillows, fold throws, watch as three children run in and one by one throw themselves over the back of the couch. Straighten cushions and pillows, fold throws, watch as three children run in and one by one throw themselves over the back of the couch.
Pick up crumbs with a handheld vacuum (1 minute): Um, I actually don’t have a handheld number. Besides, my husband loves to vacuum. I’ll save that job for him and the crumbs for the dog. I will, however, pretend I didn’t see that shriveled up grape under the couch. Ew.
Clear major clutter (5 minutes): This is fancy talk for “get rid of the children,” right? Come on. You know it takes me at least 10 minutes to get shoes and socks on just one of them.
Oh hell, why bother? It’s almost 5 pm and time to go mess up my kitchen again. But tomorrow? I’m gonna own that list!
So I wonder…
:: Do you too feel like you are fighting a losing battle with the housework?
:: Is there any point in getting anxious about it?
:: Are you jealous that my husband loves to vacuum? (because that part wasn’t a joke–he does.)
***
About The Writer
Leigh Ann Torres is a writer, artist, wife, mother, cook, maid, bookkeeper…all around genie in a bottle, except you only get one wish, and it has to be reasonable. She lives with her family in Austin, TX, where she writes about the good, the bad, and the ridiculous of life with twins plus one at Genie in a Blog. You can also follow her at @latorres or on the Genie in a Blog Facebook page.
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