Why I Blog, Revisited

An anonymous commenter questioned why I write this blog, expressing concerns that maybe I am lonely and even going so far as to wonder at my relationship with my husband, don't I talk to him, etc. Let me direct you to a post I wrote awhile ago, Why I Blog. I blog not because I am not able to communicate with my husband--actually we have a wonderful and open relationship and he reads this on a regular basis--rather, I blog because while "normal" people go to work or school or wherever where they can talk to coworkers or collegues or friends with similar experiences face to face on a regular basis, the job I have here does not readily lend itself to that. I care for children, three small boys, all day every day in my home away from other mothers. There are not very many places for me to go to "hang out" and vent and commune with other mothers who can relate to what I may be going through as a mother, who do the same job, deal with the same crazy things, who work in the poop filled trenches of motherhood like I do. It is like this: my husband is a teacher. He can tell me about being a teacher, and I can relate to him as having had teachers in the past, and knowing him like I do, but I can only understand, can only imagine to a point what is is like for him to manage a classroom of 30 other people's children all day, day-in, day-out. However, he has coworkers and collegues who are there with him, dealing with the same things, who can commisserate in a way I cannot. We all need that, a community where we can be understood for what we do, because what we do is who we are. Like I say in my introduction, I have a captive audience here, but they prefer more graham crackers than listening to me rant. And reading Cat in the Hat for the 500th time,changing the 10,000 poopy diaper and making the millionth peanut butter and jelly sandwich, although rewarding in many ways, is not very intellectually stimulating. Also, my children cannot laugh with me over the times they have dumped a whole gallon of laundry detergent in the wash machine, or cry with me when I worry about whether they are ill in some way (such as Eighty-Eight Fingers' suspected ADHD). Other mothers can laugh and cry and relate to these things. When I blog I feel less alone in my job as a mother. I don't feel sorry for myself, for my life. Rather, my blog is a celebration of my life, a testament to it, my audience other mothers who revel in their experience as mothers. I hope that answers your questions.