Annual Earnest Post

I've been blogging about a year now. Mostly making fun of motherhood, Mormons, cowboys, and incorporating top tips on parenting for your edification such as the Slap 'Em to Sleep™ strategy. Between this blog and my bloglet, I get my share of feedback from readers and hey, not all of it is positive.

Which is really a shocker.

I mean, who could dislike me? I post pictures of my beautiful child every day; I speak about the joys of being mom to a gifted child; and I wax lyrical about the great blessings that have been bestowed upon me and mine. I post about celebrity births and wish "J.Lo and Mark all the best" and I thank the Christian God out there for making me and mine more special and privileged and basically better than you and yours! In short, I am a blogger likely to top the mom-blog traffic charts.

Wait, I said this post would be earnest. So bear with me. I now officially remove my mantle of sarcasm and irony for exactly one post to explain who I am, what I believe, and why most mom-blogs are absolute drivel. I feel I must clarify my position from time to time, so as to make entirely plain to everyone who asks (all five of you) why I write the way I do. Some people think I'm mean and "hateful." They misunderstand me. Conversely, I am dismayed to learn that some of my own fans seem to think I encourage them to write mean, nasty, and downright un-entertaining/insubstantial attacks on those around them and people in general. I will address both of these prongs in the following:

I DO COUNT MY BLESSINGS
I just don't do it in public. I have a magnificent child and a magnificent husband. We have many magnificent moments in our lives. Having a child is the single most important and defining moment of my life. Yuck, those sentences are so cheesy. They may be true, people, but they are also very boring sentences. This is why you do not hear them more often. It is not my bag to brag about how swell my life is or how astonishingly perfect my child is. It is not my bag to post images of my exceptionally handsome husband and exceptionally gorgeous child. It is not my bag to talk about how lucky I am. To feel lucky; privileged; and occasionally, stupidly gloriously happy: these are private, personal sentiments and serve absolutely no purpose in other people's lives. So I keep the happy moments to myself. With the exception of those I find to be highly amusing and which I think might be enjoyable for others to read.

Plus, ahem, I am just someone who likes to dwell on the glass-half-empty experience. It's where I'm at my best. To be joyful in blogging makes me feel ill. Joyful bloggery, unless wildly hilariously clever, is utterly useless and entirely scary. You may have noticed I am writing less and less about Crabtot's tempestuous toddlerness of late and confessing to fewer lapses in martyred maternal good humor? It's because I'VE BEEN ENJOYING MYSELF more and more as her mother. And this makes it a heck of a lot harder to write about with any real substance or hook.

I DON'T WRITE WHATEVER POPS INTO MY HEAD
Some people have praised me for my "brutal" honesty or cited me as an example of nasty mom-bloggery. Tart, opinionated, barbed. This is how I see my most prickliest posts. I believe in the power of negative thinking but only because I believe there is much that is positive in expressing one's most down-in-the-gutter-humiliating experiences of parenthood, preferably if it is done with a big wodge of humor ladeled into the mix. I also believe in negative mombloggery as a way of dressing down the general mom-public when I think we most deserve it: I write occasional snarky things about baby showers and mulitmedia momming and suchlike because I believe there are people who really deserve to be taken down a notch. In short, I believe I am performing a public service.

Okay, so, not really.

Boy, being earnest really is so hard to sustain! Happy-religious-joyful-perky moms, HOW DO YOU DO IT?

Roit, back to the point. I say negative things and I mock moms and momming quite often. But I have a line. I do not, for example, write about the personal miseries in my life. I don't write nasty things EVER about my family and friends even if I feel or am experiencing nasty low points with the aforementioned. Why do I not post about those close to me? Because they are close to me. And every single word you say on the internet is forever cached. Every foul word, expletive, personal revelation, indiscretion, is there in perpetuity. I think about this quite a lot, peeps. As do all the bloggers I love. For some, the degree of privacy is far less stringent or Victorian than mine. Many mom-bloggers use their kids' names, photos, and record intimate details of life as mother and wife. I'm not saying you can't do this successfully or legitimately and decently, but I choose not to. I also choose not to write about my kid's bowel movements (poop! ha ha! How FUNNY!) or say things that might, later, cause her shame and anger. I realize that no matter what I write she will probably be embarrassed and annoyed by her mother's musings down the road...but I certainly do my best to respect the privacy of someone who has no say in what her mother chooses to record about her online.

I'm not perfect in my blogocratic oath. I am a momocrite. I once wrote about Crabtot having a wee in the flowerpot and using my cashmere sweater as toilet paper. But people, it was CASHMERE! Exceptional circumstances!! I have also had some low moments --Polish poolboy, anyone? Yes, occasionally I have felt it necessary to issue an apology. For not being funny enough.

MY LAST EARNEST WORD
You have to have rules. Self-imposed limitations. Some mom-bloggers don't and some of you in that grouping think I am one of you. I'm not. If you have nasty personal things to say about those you love, try keeping a diary. But please don't think I dig you if you're just plain mean-o! I dig you just as little as I dig those who write all their braggiest, cheesiest, most appallingly narcissistic smug-self moments into their public blogs.

Thus ends my annual earnest "What I Believe." I think we can all agree that it was not the most delightful. I think we can all agree that we do not wish to see this sort of thing again for another year. I think we can all agree that blogging, when intense, is sort of slightly creepy. I think we can all agree that when Flavor Flav says "Do you know what time it is?" we do not.

I have no idea what that meant either.

I look forward to a return to lightness and laughter! Oh, how we shall laugh together, my friends! But it will be a good week before I post again here. I am on the road tomorrow, heading north and west. There are plump posts ahead and they will be consist in a combination of marshmallows and anchovies; sweet and salty, fluffy and fishy. Meantime, get thee to the bloglet for Crabmusings if you want them next week. Because, you know, even if I am traveling or taking an extended crack-binge break or whatevs, the people at Cookie still expect me to post reg'lar and good. Wankers.

Meantime, thanks to Guy Kawasaki at Alltop, a fabu new non-robot-chosen aggregator thingy that lists the Crabby blog in its mix. I am finding some good sites in there, like Stuff White People Like and other such bloggish goodness. Check it out, ai-ight?

And ah yes. The comments, I know I may get some harsh ones. Blogging is fair game. Bring it on! [she says, running away terrified...]

Good Idea

You just have to adore spam. Crabmommy recently received an email entitled "Good Idea," as follows:

Hi friend
I am spanish and I have seen your blog.
Is cool, but you need to add an animated image or a clock.
Make it more creative. I have added a clock in my blog and the people like it.
Just go to www.myclock.we.bs
Is very simple to include in your blog. Just selecting a simple code and put it in your page.
See the website.
Your friends will love it.
We need to be diferents and creatives.

A clock. Man is that ever a good idea. Indeed, I need to be diferents and creatives. Thanks, jlg7564@hotmail.com. You're super! (I particularly love the non-sequitur-like quality of the line "I am spanish [sic] and I have seen your blog.")

p.s. After attempting to be chipper and picking out my favorite egg-shaped things for the bloglet (like the Eames egg-chair with MP3-hookup and a hefty price tag), you may be pleased to note I have reverted to my crabby ways: today, getting peppery with Horton Hears a Who Cares About This Remake? And no, I haven't even seen it. But having no informed knowledge of a matter never stopped me from weighing in.

Wow, that's a lot of linkage. Can anyone say "plug"?

On A Lighter Note: Or, Let's Get Back to Dollar Store Giveaways

I feel I've been getting heavy on this here blog. And maybe it's time for a lighter flow...or none at all. Stay with me. I'm talking about my beloved Christian-owned Dollar Store of Crabtown. Where, as some of you remember, I have walked in search of prizes for my Dollar Store Competitions.

Crabtown's Dollar Store yields an intoxicating mix of Chinese-made product off-gassing and such mystifyingly beautiful treasures as mango-flavored pineapple strips and Crucifixion stickers.

And today, at checkout, I saw the best DS product yet: a no-name pregnancy test.

And so I put it to the floor: are you brave enough to try it? How long has it been on the shelf? Ask and ye shall receive...from me...your very own Dollar Store pregnancy test. Because when you really want to know the answer, you might just get one from a cheapo prego test.

Then again, you might not.

So, who's in? Put your comment in the hat and you too might be the proud owner of a DS prego test!

p.s. If you are more inclined to the higher end, stop by my bloglet for products of egg-shaped loveliness in celebration of Eastertide.

War in the Playground: Babble Bullies Offsprung

Guys, things are getting nasty: 2 parenting websites are clashing in the playground. And I'm taking a side.

Babble did a bad, bad thing.

If you read this blog you may notice I often refer to Offsprung, a parenting website whose motto is "because your life didn't end when theirs began." I like Offsprung, and I like their parenting forum, called "The Playground," where open conversations can be mildly addictive and where I even hosted a virtual Parents' Night Out complete with real cocktails.

But since Offsprung's been up a while now, one can only imagine why Babble (which has been around even longer) has suddenly seen fit to debut the Babble Playground. Another online forum for a parenting site? Fine. But calling it "The Playground"?

Babble can hardly claim ignorance of Offsprung and its playground, which I imagine they will do if questioned about the coincidental name. Offsprung is the venture started by Neal Pollack, author of parenting memoir, Alternadad. Babble knows Pollack. They've gotten quite a bit of mileage out of discussing his book on their site.

I enjoy both Babble and Offsprung. In fact it is Babble that inspired me to start Crabmommy, right here. Babble debuted as a supposedly edgy, ironic parenting website, but their first video featured the gorgeous CEO couple giddily chatting about the beauty of parenthood while their son frolicked in his Modernist nursery. Edgy, ironic stuff!

In truth there are many pieces I have enjoyed at Babble. But it's always scary when major corporate-sponsored sites step on the little guy. At Offsprung, you are free of pop-ups sporting new designs for SkipHop bags or Sigg flasks. Offsprung is going it alone, whereas Babble is a corporate venture by ultra-successful NerveMedia people. Nothing edgy or ironic about their m.o. there.

Look, far be it from me to diss advertising. I blog for Cookie magazine for God's sake. But when you're on a sponsorship-free site as good as Offsprung, you know it's a rare treat and it should be protected, not threatened. It's basically public service for parents. All parents. Even rural ones. I once sent Babble a piece I'd written about leaving the city (NYC) for the rural mountain west. Only to be told that they couldn't run it because Babble is only for urban parents. Now THAT'S edgy, innit?!

Thankfully Offsprung doesn't mind the country hicks swinging by with our weird rural ideas and crappy unironic decor. They accept me, unsophisticated as I am given that I am agrarian folk...They's good peoples.

Babble, don't steal from the little guy. Get out of the playground. Go have fun in "The Sandbox" or on "The Sidewalk" or some other edgy, hip urban place where you do your edgy, hip urban thing. Meantime I'm off to copyright Crabmommy, in case you plan on debuting me without my being there.

Mom on Trial for Being Normal

Apparently Chicago police have too much time on their hands.

According to CNN, some poor chick was arrested for leaping out of her car, running over to put some money into a Salvation Army bucket with her 2 kids or somesuch act of goodymomness, when the police arrested her for leaving her other tot in the car-seat for all of one minute. And now she is on trial. That's right. On trial. And not just on Nancy Grace. (Whose Country Star name -- for those of you into the music name generator -- is Cooter Perkins.)

Ooooh. Baaaadmommy alert! Thank God I'm not moving to the windy city....where it's a lame wind that blows nobody any good. If you follow.

I think the cops should be sentenced to 5 years of tampon-wiener craft activity.

On a happier note, I have posted some links to truly swanky egg-shaped design loveliness, for your delectation over at the bloglet, just in time for Easter. Especially do not miss the adorable "egglings," tiny ceramic eggs that hatch into basil and mint plants. Too delightful!

Why They Should Go to Boarding School at Age 3.5

Today Crabtot told me she was going to "boil" me. "In oil."

I can only think it derived from our DVD of Horton Hears a Who (the original animation, thank you very much) where the oppressors march the colony of Whoville off with the chant "Boil that dust speck, boil it, boil it..." Crabtot and I have often chanted along to that peculiarly delicious and sinister refrain...but not for a very long time.

The threat was preceded by intense hair-pulling (because Mom had come to pick her up from school, which she hates to leave) and a companion threat: "I'm going to break your sunglasses!"
Another one of late: "I'm not making you a birthday card...ever!!!"

Well you know what, poppet? I'm glad you love school. There are some schools where you can stay all day and all night too. Maybe if you keep up the good work you'll get to go to one of them.

Anyone else's kids dropped choice hostile nuggets lately?

Rock Star Name Generator

This is hilarious.

Input your name in this search engine and it will tell you what your rock star name should be. Apparently mine should be "Brock Ash." Um, okay. And it says Crabtot should become "Izzy Jones" when she takes to the stage. And my rap star name? Maya Tricky. Erm. Yep.

What about yours? Better yet, your offspring's?