I scream; you scream? On The Ideals of Mommying

Sigh. Yep, it's true. I've been reading the Mommy Blogs again. (Pause for an ominous "da-da-da-DUHHH...") They often beat the daily news, but they still drag me down.

No, wait, that isn't quite fair. Mama-logs can be super great things. Truly! (Maybe you write one, and I just totally insulted you. I humbly apologize. And gently suggest you may want to leave now, 'cause I'll prolly do it again in just a minute.)

...Such heart and depth of emotion these writers have. Such courage they show; such faith! So many of the blogs I've found and followed are like ordinary American women replacing their factory-issue skin with a clear plastic coating -- you can look right through to the inside! See? Coursing blood and beating Mama hearts. Like the 6 Million Dollar Man action figure with more feeling!

This kind of openness and accessible emotion got me hooked on a little universe of Mommy Blogs long ago, and they got me through a very hard time between Brandt boys. I read a lot late at night, and I cried a lot while reading. It was theraputic for sure. Sustaining. And bonding in a weird way. (Weird as no one was exactly bonding back. I didn't even have virtual relationships with ANYONE whose deep inner thoughts I was regularly strip-mining.)

I still love a certain segment of the personal Mommylands online. I visit a few spots regularly. But I've mostly switched to shelter blogs because I find I just can't sustain the over-my-head emotion for so long. I burn out. On their tales of "intentional," "authentic" parenting, just as on my own.

(I tell myself I could write raw essays or tender anecdotes about some event from almost every single day, too... But, somehow, they would no longer be touching by the droves.)

And, also, I start to feel bad about myself, the more I dwell on the lifestyle posts of the home-schooling, only-homemmade cooking, I-just-stopped-organic-gardening-to-craft-a-little-something, always-more-than-two-kids-hanging-on-me-but-never-a-raised-voice kind of mothering that a significant part of Christianhood thinks is the highest way.

And, hey, it might BE the highest way! What do I know?! I know not one of these particular examples is a BAD thing on its own. They're all pretty good things, in fact. But I also know I start to feel like a REAL outsider, and not that great a mom, the more I dwell on those places of "ideal" my life doesn't allow me to reach for right now.

Finally -- and I can't believe I'm really gonna admit this where it will be sent into cyberspace forever, no-doubt to return one day and completely guilt/ shame/haunt my soul -- but there is something about unflinchingly earnest people that, eventually, bugs the crap out of me. I like my earnestness with a little more flinching on the side. Some wisecracking. Irreverence. Maybe a dropped glass and surprised curse, just once in a while. I'm reminded of something Wynonna Judd said in a magazine interview... something to the effect of (yes,I'm paraphrasing), "I like being in church. I just have the urge to ride my motorcycle up and down the aisle sometimes."

Amen, Wy! You preach it! A faithful soul that still rebels a little bit? I can feel it. And she's a mom, too. ...I wonder if Wynonna blogs?!