TOP BLOG OF THE WEEK: MUCH MORE THAN MOMMY

Have you listened to this week's podcast? It was magical. DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom was my guest along with my co-host, news anchor, and executive producer, Jill from HurstBurst. We discussed regional accents, how I hate Blog Talk Radio, pooping while talking on the cell phone, blumpkins, the Gottis, guidos, juice heads, the Real Housewives of New York vs the Real Housewives of everywhere else, urban dictionary dot com, mentally challenged newscasters, and prominently featured, the Drag Queen Name Generator. Go under my profile picture and click on the Blog Talk Radio player to listen.

This Top Blogger is (and I quote) a Christian, a woman, a mom, a daughter, a sister, a friend. I am a wife. That's a role I treasure, and a role I am always trying to improve upon. And now, a role I am blogging about. That, and the other roles that make up my life. But mostly, being a wife and what comes with that. Consider yourself warned. Please give a warm welcome to my Top Blog of the Week

MUCH MORE THAN MOMMY

MMTM sent me a link to one of her archived posts. God bless her. The post is entitled, Making a Scene at Church, and you can find it right HERE. Please go read it, visit her, follow her, leave her some comments, and send her tons of Crib love.

Have a great weekend everybody!

DID YOU KNOW SATAN IS NOT ONLY A WOMAN, BUT THAT SHE WORKS AT THE MY TOWN DRIVE THRU AND BEVERAGE. IT'S TRUE.

Have you listened to this week's podcast? It was magical. DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom was my guest along with my co-host, news anchor, and executive producer, Jill from HurstBurst. We discussed regional accents, how I hate Blog Talk Radio, pooping while talking on the cell phone, blumpkins, the Gottis, guidos, juice heads, the Real Housewives of New York vs the Real Housewives of everywhere else, urban dictionary dot com, mentally challenged newscasters, and prominently featured, the Drag Queen Name Generator. Go under my profile picture and click on the Blog Talk Radio player to listen.

I am afraid of many important things. Clowns. Loose stools. Fatness.

And Satan.

Did you know Satan works at the My Town Drive Thru and Beverage?

She does.

My daughter drinks a lot of milk. And I go to the drive thru because I am too lazy to get out of the car for a gallon of milk. Or because I am wearing pajamas, pink glitter slippers, and no bra.

The she-devil working the drive through is all business. Her lank greasy hair sports two colors: four inches of black roots and 6 inches of orange. Her face is accented with pock marks, a couple pounds worth of pancake base, black eyeliner, and tarantula lashes.

Her seven inch acrylic nails and ever-present slim brown cigarette hanging loosely from her lips, tell the tale of one who accepts no bullshit.

Bullshit includes: speaking, asking you what you want, telling you how much it costs, saying hello, good-bye, you're welcome, or thank you (see speaking).

Your visit goes like this:

Satan glares at you with questioning yet disgusted look.

You are fearful, yet wearing pink sparkle slippers, you have no choice.

You (experiencing mild hand tremors and clearing throat numerous times) ask for one gallon of whole milk. Please.

Beelzebub angrily trudges at the speed of slow to yank out your milk and thrust it through your car window.

With trembling hands you grapple with the milk and finally toss it into the passenger seat. There's no time for dilly dally. She won't have it.

Satan glares at you with questioning yet disgusted look.

You thrust your five dollar bill at her because you know exactly how much your items cost. You have to know.

She rips the cash out of your sweating hands and begins to violently stab at the register buttons.

Change?

Hmmmm.

No.

And you will say, thankyousomuch, regardless.

But she won't even hear you.

Because she's already wishing malignant brain tumors on the next customer.

You take a deep breath and ease into traffic.

You have done it.

Again.

You've survived another visit to the My Town Drive Thru and Beverage.

And Satan.

Who or what is something you fear that might not seem reasonable to others?

NO ONE TOLD ME BLOGGING WAS GOING TO BECOME THE BAIN OF MY EXISTENCE. NOW I AM TELLING YOU. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Have you listened to this week's podcast? It was magical. DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom was my guest along with my co-host, news anchor, and executive producer, Jill from HurstBurst. We discussed regional accents, how I hate Blog Talk Radio, pooping while talking on the cell phone, blumpkins, the Gottis, guidos, juice heads, the Real Housewives of New York vs the Real Housewives of everywhere else, urban dictionary dot com, mentally challenged newscasters, and prominently featured, the Drag Queen Name Generator. Go under my profile picture and click on the Blog Talk Radio player.

When I started blogging, I was all, now I have somewhere I can write. I love to write. And people will read it. This is fun.

Then a bit later, I was all, Oh now I get it. It's like a game you play. A game you MUST play. People read you if you read them and leave a comment. Super.

Then I discovered blog fishing.

Then I became blog-chotic.

Grow BLOG grow. You must grow big, and large, and strong. (TWSS)

Then I was spending HOURS every day, reading 100 plus blogs and leaving comments, so that I would get 80-100 comments every post.

I want THEM to read ME. So I have to read them. No matter how many hours it takes away from my life.

I would dutifully sit on my couch every day, at every nap time (which is the only time I blog) and visit and comment on every blog who had visited me. Read and comment, read and comment, read and comment. For however long my daughter napped.

Meanwhile, laundry waits, meals wait, kids wait, dogs wait, cleaning waits ... it all waits for me.

And then something happened.

I fell behind.

First it was a few days, then a few weeks, then a few months.

I will never be caught up. Ever.

And the guilt has been killing me. Killing me.

I have felt awful that I don't visit other people as much as they visit me. I love and appreciate 'my regulars' so much. I ask myself, why do they come every day, when I am essentially MIA? Do they really like me that much? What's the deal?

To my faithful readers, a tip of the crib.

So now my comments dwindle to 20 or 30 per post.

I must make peace with those numbers. They are a direct result of the amount of time I have invested.

I am now officially waving my white flag of blog surrender. And I am taking a solemn vow. Well, a few of them.

From now on:

I am writing for me and because I love to write.

I am not going to be obsessed with word count, posting daily, driving people to read my blog, or the number of comments or followers.

I will visit other blogs I enjoy reading when I have time, but I will not do it out of guilt or a sense of duty.

I will remember this blog is not my job and behave accordingly.

I will not allow this blog to ever cause me another second of stress and guilt.

Amen.

DOES YOUR BLOG STRESS YOU OUT? OR DOES SOME PART OF BLOGGING STRESS YOU OUT? HOW DO YOU HANDLE IT? DO YOU READ ANY BLOGS THAT YOU WOULD VISIT REGARDLESS OF WHETHER OR NOT THEY RETURNED THE FAVOR?