You are currently reading the recycled post (I’m green!) archives.

Flashback: How I Met My Husband (Part IV)

Categories: about mommygeekology, making memories, married life | Tags: ,

Goodness, how many parts will this have? I don’t even know! If you missed anything, check out Part I, Part II, and Part III if you’re so inclined. If you’re not, then just read this post :-) It’s about our first date!

I was just recovering from my lightheadedness when FutureHubby reached my bar stool. I had already ordered appetizers, because apparently I’m a control freak and hadn’t had enough after choosing the date, the location, the time, and the revised location of our date as well as paying for the concert tickets.

Looking back, it’s a wonder he didn’t run screaming from the restaurant.

While we ate, we made small talk, and soon it was time to head out and get to the train station in order to get to the club where Bond was playing in time for the show. I was driving my sporty little 1995 Dodge Shadow, red, with a sexy spoiler and a standard transmission, yeah baby! He was driving the only 2-wheel drive Jeep on the face of the planet. (Ok, so maybe just in Massachusetts)

We took my car, which I had cleaned very well to hide the fact that I practically live in it. I’d also reviewed my CD collection, removed anything embarrassing, and (I’m sad to admit this) added some classical CDs to help promote my super cool and knowledgeable music student vibe.

I told him he could pick what we put in for music, which meant that he had to look through my collection, which meant that he had to see how awesome I was :-) He chose The Offspring, the Americana CD. We popped it in, but didn’t listen to any of the songs – we talked about everything and anything on the way to the train station.

He complimented me on my driving, and said that he was excited to meet a girl who could drive a stick. [oh, shut up you pervs!] We got to the station, he kindly paid the parking and tokens, and we finally arrived on Comm Ave in Boston. He was kind enough to pretend not to notice that the bouncer at the door put a large black “X” on the back of my hand to indicate that I was underage [mortifying. Truly mortifying]. Instead, we talked about how we both had the exact same cell phone and cell service. We talked about wearing new shoes and how stupid that was on a first date, and yet we both did it. We talked about cartoons. We talked about family. We talked so much I honestly wondered whether we’d have anything more to talk about ever again. [We did, and we do, happy to report!]

The band played, and they were great. It was nearly a year before I admitted that I had never heard the band before that night. He stood behind me the entire time, and once I caught him sniffing my hair – I thanked all that is Holy that I had washed it earlier that day – which made me smile and feel very warm all over. When the band finished, we stepped outside into the cool night air – it was a little bit before 11pm, I believe – and found ourselves on the corner near the Border Cafe, and famished.  So it was nachos and chicken tacos and more conversation, the Red Line home and a comfortable drive back to the Outback Steakhouse parking lot.

When we pulled in next to his white Jeep, we loitered, talking a bit more, not wanting the night to end. It was nearly 2 am. I felt such a deep connection with him – we had touched on nearly every subject and shared a lot of laughs and a lot of comfortable silences in just one night.

We had reached that point in the evening where it was either kiss, or awkwardly hug or shake hands and drive away. We went with kiss. I don’t remember how we got so close to each other – perhaps it was just a natural gravitation, perhaps we were deliberately inching closer and closer as we talked, but then he was [thisclose] and he leaned down (but not too far down, because he is the perfect height for me) and kissed me.

It was amazing. I had never, ever been kissed that way. It wasn’t just technique. It wasn’t just the moonlight. It was something deeper than that, and I hope that you know what I mean, because we all deserve this feeling. I burned from my head to my toes, and I melted right against him. I wanted to sigh, and scream, and dance, and sleep curled in his arms, and inhale his scent and never ever let go.

Before we parted for the night, I discovered that we had one more thing in common: we were both wearing Victoria’s Secret……

Very Sexy for Men, and Dream Angels Heavenly for Women.
~ The End ~

Note: There is definitely more to this story – DaddyGeek and I married within 6 months of that first date – but I think that deserves a mini-series of it’s own.  Are you interested in hearing it? If so, I’ll work on it :-)

0 Comments

Flashback: How I Met My Husband (Part III)

Categories: about mommygeekology, making memories, married life | Tags: ,

In Part I & Part II, I managed to take up two entire blog posts just telling you about the 1.5 hours that I served my future husband at the Outback Steakhouse, where I was waitressing in 2004 when we met. I’ll try to speed it up a bit :-)

I was thrilled, and nervous, and slightly skeptical for the rest of the evening. How many times had I heard [from other women] that guys you met in a restaurant, or bar, or wherever, say that they are going to call and don’t? I felt a little foolish now for taking his phone number. Ah, well. I decided that I definitely wouldn’t call him.

Luckily, I didn’t have to test that resolve for very long.  He called Tuesday night, while I was at my friend Josh’s house. (Glad he called, too – Josh was just getting pretty intimate with his booty call best friend and it was awkward.) We decided that we would hit the Boston area for our first date. I found out that he was from Florida, had recently crashed his beloved Camaro Z28 on his last trip home, and wasn’t familiar with Boston at all. So I was to be the tour guide. Great. I’d hardly stepped foot in Boston the whole time that I’ve lived here. I didn’t want to admit that, though. This guy didn’t need to know just yet how freakin’ lame I was! I mean, really, first I suggest Opretta and then I admit that I’m really a suburbanite pretending to be a Bostonian? No way, Jose.

So I played off that I enjoyed Boston, and told him that we’d hit up Harvard Square (technically not Boston, but OK) because it was one of my favorite places (read: the only place in Boston that I was even remotely familiar with). I picked it because it was pretty public, I sort of knew where I was, and it would be easy to take the T in.  And since I’m a control freak, we arranged to meet that Friday at the Outback Steakhouse (where we met) first. It was my escape clause, in case it turned out he was a crazy serial killer. Hopefully my buddies at Outback would be able to tell and keep me safe!

We got off the phone after talking for about an hour, which was great (and gave Josh and his friend a chance to cool it!). I later dissected the conversation with my friends, and we decided that FutureHubby had a chance.

Of course, our date plans went down the toilet once we heard that it was supposed to rain and storm on Friday night. Great – now I’d either have to cancel, or find another activity. Canceling was no good – I’d switched my Friday shift for a Sunday shift (suicide! Fridays always mean more money!) to have this date. No, I would just have to find something else freakin’ awesome to do.  I thought maybe I could fall back on the “seeing a musical venue” idea, and hit up a local band.

Note to self if I ever travel back in time: You are only 19 years old, and all the cool bands are 21+ !
I managed to find a band playing at a local bar that, from the pictures online, seemed cool. The place was split into two parts, a 21+ section and a “restaurant” section, where the band was playing, so I could get in – FutureHubby is four years older than I am, so no problem for him either.

Now here is where I am a real genius (or so I think). The band that I’ve found is absolutely perfect to try and demonstrate my amazing musical knowledge (*ahem*) and also show how very hip and cool I am. The band is Bond – a HOT all-female British electric string quartet playing awesome updated classical tunes as well as original music. I know, amazing! Take a peek at some of their music here.

So, again with the control freakiness, I decide that this is where we’ll go, I buy the tickets online, and then I call FutureHubby to tell him that plans have changed. I called him from home (a.k.a. my mother’s house) – but from the driveway so that no one would hear me bragging about how totally awesome I was. I told him about the plans, and the band, and you can only imagine my surprise (and the sickening feeling in my stomach) when he has actually heard of this band.

Let me be clear here. I picked this band because it was available, sounded cool, and I could get in. I hadn’t actually listened to any of the music, though they are a favorite now. I didn’t know anything more about this band than the bio on the ticket purchase page, and I had just passed it off like they were a great band that I was familiar with, and that I was taking him because they were amazing.

He not only knew of the band, but he knew the music. He was naming songs. He wanted to know if I liked them. He wanted to know if I had a favorite CD, because he’d heard this one and that one and oh, have I heard this song? It’s his favorite.

I was so fucked.

I played along, pretty well I think (he later said he had no idea I was bluffing) and when we got off the phone I frantically pulled up a Google search to read and listen to as much Bond as I could.

When Friday rolled along, I spent hours agonizing over my outfit. I can’t remember exactly what I wore now, so it must not have been very spectacular! I know I wore a jean jacket, fitted, that looked really good, and a new pair of shoes (bad, bad, BAD idea when walking in Boston. Do you know that some of the roads are COBBLESTONE?!?!). I remember exactly what he wore, though. I can still see the moment that he walked into the restaurant and turned the corner to make his way to the bar, where I was sitting and chatting with coworkers, fiddling nervously with my cell phone. He had a black t-shirt over nice-looking jeans and nice black shoes. He had a maroon button-up shirt over the t-shirt, unbuttoned, and it flapped a little bit as he rounded the corner. His hair was short, and he smiled as soon as he saw me. It was amazing.
At the time, I thought the dizzy sensation I felt was because I was hungry and perched precariously on a barstool, trying to look sexy. Looking back, I know that I was just starting to fall in love with him.

~ To Be Continued ~

1 Comment

Flashback: How I Met My Husband (Part II)

Categories: making memories, married life | Tags: , , ,

[In Part I, I was unwittingly serving my future husband and his buddies at the Outback Steakhouse, where I was waitressing. If I'd known, I probably wouldn't have chosen my first words to him as "G-Day, Mates! Welcome to the Outback Steakhouse!"]

Two of the guys decided to order beers  - Michelobe Ultra, I believe. The third guy didn’t order anything; he explained sheepishly that he was acting as designated driver.

I had two other tables to serve, but once these guys told me they were out to celebrate DragonTattoo’s birthday, I knew that I had a chance of a really good tip. I had girls at my other tables; I couldn’t really flirt with them to get a good tip. These guys though? Prime targets. I was determined to make my 25% – the tip I figured I could get if I shook my ass a little extra after I delivered their beers – and considering the way they ordered two appetizers and a crapload of beer… well that was a considerable amount of dough in my pocket.

Not to mention that two of them were pretty cute. I spent a little too much time at their table; I was actually sat twice at my other two tables before they were ready to leave. I spent most of my time just chatting with them. I told them where I was going to school (pity me!) and that I was a music major. DragonTattoo joked that he might want to go see an opera one day; I wanted to show off, and so I suggested an operetta – shorter, comical, and generally a better way to ease into that scene.

Aside from the DragonTat guy, there was a quiet guy who sat in the corner, and a shy-ish but interesting guy (the designated driver) with amazing blue eyes and a better wardrobe than DragonTat – a nice t-shirt under an open button down and some non-ratty jeans.  No glasses, short hair.

I think I fell a little bit in love with his sense of humor, his laugh, his eyes when he laughed – first. When they guys ordered beers, I checked their IDs. Well, they were military and I’d never seen a military ID, so I was having some trouble finding the birth date. I was about to give up, when DesignatedDriver (a.k.a. FutureHusband) told me to look on the back – he laughed and said that most waitresses just handed it back without finding it there, and they always had a good laugh about it.  I laughed too… but mostly because I’d nearly made a fool of myself the same way. Major almost-FAIL.

From that point on, FutureHusband and I had a nice parley going. We joked and laughed between courses, and I made sure that his Coke was never empty :-) At the end of the meal, I dropped off the check and was hoping for a nice tip – FutureHusband looked up at me from the booth and asked “So, would you like to go see a musical venue sometime?”

Yeah, I know, it doesn’t make sense. But I was floored. No one had ever asked me out like that before. I was thrilled inside, but I hope that my “sure!” was casual, cool, and damn sexy. We exchanged phone numbers on Outback drink coasters (he had chicken-scratch handwriting, I noticed) and he vowed that he’d call me.

~ To Be Continued ~

3 Comments

Brazilian, Baby {Green Post}

Categories: featured, making memories | Tags: , , , , , , ,

I’m calling this a “Green Post” because it’s been recycled from my old blog. One of the challenges of the Mominatrix #sexualrevolution was to do a little down-low landscaping, and I thought I’d share one of my experiences with waxing. This is supposed to be funny, so LAUGH DAMMIT.

————

I understand that there are some cultures where body hair is accepted, even admired. There are cultures also that demand that women or men remove all or parts of their body hair, either as a religious rite or simply because it is culturally unacceptable otherwise. I tried to do some research on this, but have you ever tried doing a Google search for pubic hair and cultural perspectives? Yeah, don’t. Or turn safe-search on.

Anyway, other cultures aside, my own personal preference is to be clean-shaven – pretty much anywhere that I can be. I love the hair on my head :-) But I also keep that short. I don’t like long hair. Hubby had long hair before we met. If I had known him during his goth or subsequent quasi-goth stages, we would not have dated. When we did meet, he had a nice military haircut. Totally acceptable and attractive!

My reasons for wanting to be hairless “down there” are numerous, from simple to upkeep, to cleanliness, to the “eww gross” factor during oral… the list goes on. No landing strips for me, either. Not a fan. It looks funny, to me. And it’s more upkeep! I’d have to trim and shave. I think that’s asking a bit much from a girl who doesn’t even get to shower as often as she’s like. (Aren’t you glad that you only know me virtually? lol. )

So, with that oh-so-essential background information, my candid account of getting a Brazilian wax while 7 months pregnant last Saturday follows:

***

The spa room was very nice. There were nice fresh sheets and towels on the table in the center of the room. The walls were painted in calming earthy tones, and soothing music played in the background. There were some nice iron scrolls on the walls, a hook and hanger for my clothes, and a display of creams and lotions.  I had just come from getting my hair cut and my maternity massage, so I was relaxed and feeling sexy and fun and flirty. The clinician, Rachel, offered me a drink of water or some tea. I politely declined – I think that peeing on the woman clearing out your bush is rude, right? I’ll be honest, I’m fuzzy on the proper protocol during a Brazilian wax.. but I think peeing on people is out unless you’re filming a crazy porn or something.

Rachel, by the way, is absolutely gorgeous. Long, dark, curly hair, big big eyes with long lashes, little cupid mouth. It was almost a little insulting how pretty she was. I mean c’mon. If I’m going to have someone staring at my vagina for an hour, I’d rather that she be less attractive than me. If she’s going to be more attractive than I am, and she’s looking at my vagina, she better not be down there to give me a Brazilian.

(Whoops, just outed myself. Bisexual, anyone?)

So, where was I? Oh yeah. Gorgeous girl, first Brazilian wax, 4 months of growth because I can’t reach my own hoo-hah and a huge pregnant belly.

She told me that I could hang my clothes on the hanger and get up on the table, she’d be right back.  That’s right folks, she left while I undressed. She also left while I dressed, at the end. How weird is that? I mean, it’s not like she wasn’t going to see it anyway!

Then again, after I had stripped and gotten up on the table, I draped a towel over myself. Even as I arranged it to keep my bits from showing, I questioned why I was bothering. I mean, she was going to be getting up close and personal. And yet… it would have felt so weird to leave it all hanging out!

So when she comes back in, I’m lying on my back, wondering why they didn’t bother to drywall the ceiling because those dated ceiling tiles are really unattractive to look at, when she pulls my leg to the side and plops some sugar-lemon gel on the area with a little spatula. No “How do you do, let me grab your leg here for a sec.” No “How about dinner? A movie? Sex in the back of my conversion van?” Not even a warning “Let’s go!” Just flip the towel aside, grap the spatula, plop the wax and hello, pain. Let me tell you – that gel is hot. And when it catches on the little hairs, it hurts a little. But I thought to myself, so far, so good. This’ll be quick and dirty. It’l hurt, but then I’ll be able to go, and I’ll never have to look this beautiful woman in the face again.  Then she grabbed one of those little waxing strips and laid it on the gel.  No problem. Then she took her whole hand (gloved, thankyouverymuch) and rubbed the strip down with significant pressure. Let me just say this – not so much a problem on the bikini line area. Totally strange when you get to the “inner” area. I was really, really glad that I wasn’t going to have to see her outside of this context.

Then she started talking to me, asking when I was due, did I have any names picked? I thought it was a little weird, but figured that she was curious and maybe trying to get her mind off of the task at hand (literally….)

I was right in the middle of telling her that I was due on ((RIP)) ((internal scream of surprise and pain)) November 4th, but that my daughter was ((RIP)) ((oh good lord that burns)) about 10 days early, so ((RIP)) ((I bet I’m as red as a tomato down there right now)) this one might be an October baby. With every bit of gel applied, she would apply the wax strip several times and rip, rip, rip away.

I was horrified at the pain. It burned. It hurt. It ached. It was sharp, and tingly, and there was nothing good about it, no way. I had heard that some women like to get this done. I think that whoever told me that was mistaken. They probably said that they like it as much as they’d like an ice pick to the eye. Or they like it as much as they’d like to swallow burning coals. Or that they like it as much as a visit from their mother-in-law while potty-training their first child, who happens to have diarrhea.

But I had started. And I figured that as long as I could just sit there, deal with the pain, and get it over with, I’d be fine.

But no. Rachel was seriously chatty.  She would ask me about how I liked living in B-town, and whether I liked it more than BL-town versus N-city, and how her boyfriend wanted to live in B-town but she wanted to live in N-city even though the commute would be worse, etc etc. Every so often, she’d pause, and squint at my lower half. I’m not sure if she was puzzled, or strategizing, or what. It was all very surreal and strange, and somewhat awkward.

It went on and on. This is not a quick process – it took 50 minutes to get everything.It was a pattern. Apply wax, ask a question, furiously rub on waxing strip, wait until I started my answer, RIP. I swear, she was doing it on purpose. She probably got some sort of sick thrill out of seeing whether she could get me to scream in the middle of my answer. (I’m proud to say that I did not! Though there was much wincing, pausing, and flinching)

I tried to rationalize the whole experience and say that it was good practice for childbirth.  I mean, pain at intervals lasting for 30 seconds to a minute (oh, the burning!) while maintaining conversation with the people around you. Because that’s totally how we all imagine our birth experience. Discussion about politics and complex science while also bringing life into the world, without any pain medication. I mean, that’s what my childbirth plan reads…. yeah.

The worst part was the end, though. I had told her that I wanted everything – even the wayyy back – gone. She tells me that the last part is the least painful, don’t worry, and if I could get up on the table on my hands and knees and arch my back, that would be great. (Oh, how many times have I heard that? “This won’t hurt a bit, now bend over… ) So, with my big ass and my pregnant belly and my ridiculous stretch marks, I got up on that table and posed like I was asking Hubby to do it doggy style. My stomach rested on the table. My back was arched, my ass was in the air, and she says to me “That’s great.”

Oh goodness.

So she applies the gel and gets the strip, and right after she pulls the strip off, I start to giggle.

A word of advice: the next time that you’re in a table, ass proudly displayed in the air, while someone removes the hair from your body using a spatula, wax, and some cloth strips, do not giggle. It’s weird. It puts a strange mood in the room. No matter that you quickly, VERY quickly explain that you’re just thinking about how funny this will be to tell people later, and that you’re thinking of getting an at-home wax kit so that your husband can see how it feels to have the hair brutally ripped from his body, or that you know it’s totally inappropriate and you’re so sorry you don’t mean to giggle but you just can’t stop…

It’s weird. And for the last few minutes of that waxing session, there will be a silence in the room, like a thick, wet, flannel blanket, dampening everything. And you’ll still be stifling giggles.

Needless to say, I’ll be back in four weeks to get it done again. (That’s right, go back and read that sentence again. No typos, I promise.) (It lasts four weeks!) (And Hubby is paying!)

10 Comments

A Little Inspiration (Updated, Repost)

Categories: about mommygeekology, making memories, philosophy | Tags: , , , , ,

Beside my computer at work, where I plan to spend many a lunch-time hour composing witty and sometimes informational posts here on iMommy, I have a whiteboard. I love my whiteboard. In fact, I wish that I had some extra dough and no responsibilities (ha!) so that I could get an electronic whiteboard like this one.

On my (seriously technology-deprived) whiteboard at work, I’ve written a few inspirational phrases. These are often the reminder that I need to calm down, let it roll off my back, or even spur me to action. I’m considering taking them with me everywhere! Maybe I’ll put the phrases into a ScrapBlog with pictures of my loving family, then export it to a .jpeg and print it on photo paper and carry it in my purse…. and then I could have these lovely phrases with me all the time!

  • Accept the fact that we live in an imperfect world.
  • Say “No.”
  • Don’t put up with something that doesn’t work right.
  • Unplug your phone.
  • Breathe deeply.
  • Take control of your environment.
  • Talk it out.
  • Keep a sense of humor.

I realize that not all of these are always achievable, but usually at least one of these little reminders helps me get through my day.

Sometimes, though, all I need is a picture:

Sisters

Sisters

1 Comment

Reinvent Yourself [Re-post]

Categories: about mommygeekology, making memories | Tags: , , , ,

I’ve had a rough week.  I’ve been working on me – trying to deal with my feelings towards my family, myself, my life. And now? Well I like to think that I’m on my way to becoming that beautiful butterfly.

Let me back up.

I think that if we were able to meet earlier versions of ourselves, our earlier versions would, in nearly all cases, kick our present-self’s a**, scorn us, spread nasty rumors about us in school, or otherwise show their utter disdain for our lives.

OK, fine, maybe it’s just me.

But seriously – at seventeen, I was sure that I would lose my virginity to the man that I married. I was sure that I would probably never get really drunk, except maybe once on my honeymoon. I was sure that I would be in school for music right now, finishing my Master’s, and that I would be composing awesome music, and doing musical theatre, and generally putting myself out there and showing the world how freakin’ amazing I was. I was sure that I would have an amazing relationship with my family, that I would probably have my own apartment and an awesome side job that allowed me to retain my individuality and creativity, and that I would still be in touch with all my high school teachers. Especially Mr. L.

My 17-yr old self would definitely not have suspected that I’d have a small blue sedan gray almost-minivan with cheese puffs crushed into the carpet. She wouldn’t suspect that, at the tender age of 23, I would be ready to give birth to my second child. She would never have guessed that I’d marry a guy I’d know for 6 months, and she definitely would have laughed, heartily, at the idea that my husband would be a military man. (He’s finished his term now, by the way.)

At 23, I expected to be having a lot of fun, exploring my creativity, and living it up. I don’t think I figured that would include trips to the park to see the longest slide around, crayons, and staying up past 10pm (whoo-hoo!)

But you know what? It’s OK.

I love it. I love this. And while there are still a lot of dreams that I’m not wiling to give up – I would forfeit it all for this family of mine. I didn’t expect that. I didn’t expect to have two children so early. I didn’t expect to have a husband that I love quite this much. I didn’t even think love like this really existed. I didn’t realize that there is nothing, NOTHING more fulfilling than teaching your daughter to say a new word and understand what it means. I don’t think I realized that there would be nothing more likely to bring a tear to my eye than that same little girl calling my best friend from middle school, Mike, “Unc” (uncle).  I never knew that it would hurt so good to see her growing up.

A part of me misses Cat (my former self). The daring, pink-hair, outgoing, dramatic, don’t-care-what-you-think-ok-so-maybe-i-do-but-i’ll-never-show-it Cat. The girl who was popular, but only amongst the music geeks and band dorks. Cat, who spent all her spare time in the music theory room, trying to compose something meaningful. If I’d known how it would feel to be a parent, I wouldn’t have had an ounce of trouble creating a sonata. I wouldn’t have had any lack of inspiration for a base line. I could have created the most beautiful choruses.

Cat isn’t gone. She isn’t lost. She’s still here, but she is often smelly from lack of shower, and unmotivated and exhausted. She is often insecure about what other mothers may think, and weary of the day to day drama that comes with family. Cat wishes she had time for music lessons, and music composition, and community theatre.

But MommyGeek… MommyGeek knows that there is nothing better than spending time with my daughter while she counts to 10. There is nothing better than ducking as she tests out her throwing arm with a ball that is way too hard – who gave that to her? MommyGeek knows that the other day, when I made it to the grocery store and home within an hour, WITH a toddler, right before dinner time – that is true victory, and it is sweet. Oh so sweet.

MommyGeek knows that hugs and kisses from a little girl who wants to know “You ok?” are better than any medicine. iMommy knows that she has the best husband in the world (for me). MommyGeek knows that the next little one will be just as much of a wonder, even while Cat is recoiling at the thought of more diapers, spit up, and unglamorous outings to the park.

I believe that each day, we have the opportunity to redefine ourselves. Each hour. Each minute. We can change as we need. Cat is a part of my self, but she is a part that will be dormant for a little while. It’s MommyGeek’s turn to shine.

And let me just say this, because it’s important, and I wish that someone had said it to me when I was starting this MommyGeek journey: It might happen overnight for some people. But not everyone. Some women struggle with post-partum depression for 6 months before doing anything about it. Some women never fully recover from that depression. Some women finally realize that they are enjoying their daughter, fully, for the first time when she turns 2. Some women don’t really embrace Mommy until later. And I think that’s OK. As long as our children are happy, it’s OK. As long as we find that happiness, it’s OK.

So while this is all wonderful, and amazing, it wasn’t so amazing at first. It was terrifying. It was new. It was different. It was too much. And it took me a while to reinvent myself and become MommyGeek. And next? Next I need to figure out how to be both: Cat and MommyGeek. We all need balance. You know what the best thing for balance is? Beautiful [butterfly] wings.

Just you wait. Mine will be twinkling in the sunlight before long, alternately blending into the background or bursting with color and light.

Photo Credits:
Top (originally uploaded by lappid.)
Bottom (Neil Durden)

————————————————

This post originally posted on my previous blog, on August 13th, 2008.  I was heavily pregnant with Geeklet at the time. I think that no matter where I am in my life, this post will be relevant to me. I hope you enjoy it.  It could be considered part of ScaryMommy’s Flashback Friday series, though sadly, that’s merely coincidence. I suck at planning.

21 Comments

MommyGeek & the iGeneration

Categories: about mommygeekology, making memories | Tags: , , , ,

This post was originally published on my first blog, which shall be taken down at the end of this month, as my very first blog post. I just realized that I never celebrated my 1-year blog anniversary, so today I’ll bring you back to the beginning, when I had no readers, and somehow managed to post 30 times in July.  I’ll be periodically recycling content from ye old blog, both to add that content here for posterity’s sake as well as to provide what is, likely, still fresh content to you, as I had about 1.5 readers when I started (didn’t we all?)

As another note, if you are still subscribed to this blog via the old link (I KNOW that some of you are, I see it on your sidebars!) I urge you, PLEASE, delete that subscription and add this. It will update the blog title (important for the non-googleability of the old identity with the new!) and will ensure that when I take down the other blog, I don’t accidentally lose you. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 or email!

———————————————————————————-

As the name of this blog may imply, I enjoy technology. In fact, I adore technology. I lust after technology. Technology and I have a tumultuous, relationship – the kind of relationship that Sheryl Crow was singing about when she recorded “My Favorite Mistake.” That’s right. Technology and I are lovers.

I’m a relatively young person (and I believe that all things are relative); I’ll be 24 years old this year, just days after my second child is due to arrive, and I grew up with the internet. These facts are important simply because they define who / what I am — an iGeneration mother, daughter, friend, sister, blogger, wife.

Many of you may have heard of the iGeneration. Signaling the largest generation gap since Rock & Roll burst onto the scene, the iGeneration, or Generation Now, is comprised of those of us who do not remember life without computers, the internet and the associated technology. Growing up, my mother taught me not to talk to strangers. One of the first lessons that my daughter will learn will be “Don’t provide personal information unless it’s a secure internet connection. Don’t participate in chat rooms, forums are better. If you do participate in chat rooms, don’t provide any personal identifiers, such as time zone, town, pictures, descriptions, jobs, anything. Remember to clear your personal information from Firefox at the end of your browser session. Don’t ever date a guy you met on Facebook or (God Forbid!) MySpace.” If you’re raising children now, then I imagine you’re composing a similar admonition yourself.

The New York Times published a great article about the iGeneration and what it means to be part of it. If you’re part of the iGeneration, read it. It’s interesting and insightful, in my opinion. If you aren’t part of the iGeneration, then read it because your children are.

Parenting in the age of technology is different, scary and vast. No longer is the village that raises your child found right outside your back door – the village is online at Parent Hacks, Babble, and in the comments of thousands of Mommy & Daddy blogs.

Well, I’m joining the ranks. As a young mother, a bonified iGeneration member, and a techno-geek, I’d be lax if I didn’t start a Mommy Blog! Not to mention that I hope you’ll find what I have to say here interesting, poignant, valuable, witty and entertaining. I hope that my blog provides you an opportunity to hit that “I’m not alone” epiphany that I feel every time I point my mouse to Cynical Dad, MotherBumper, Bad Parent (via Babble) and countless others (see sidebar) who have inspired me to get up, try again, and (most importantly) develop and stand by my parenting philosophies.

Editor’s note: While these were the blogs that inspired my jump into the blogger pool, I’ve found that a new identity — simply, blogger, rather than Mommy Blogger, has emerged here, I believe. Further, I read over 100 personal blogs at this point, ALL which have heavily influenced my life and my sense of self-esteem both as an individual and a mother.  So thank you.

4 Comments
Web Statistics