Lawyer Mama

You Can Say You Knew Me When....

I'm in my local paper today.  You can see the online version, although you have to click on the photo slide show to see my photo and the answer to what I wore.  I wasn't thrilled to discover that I look ginormous in the selected photo, but at least my scarf is hiding a gratuitous boob shot!

Hollis was a tad bit upset because the photographer also took a bunch of pictures of us reading books on the couch. (Actually, we were reading on of these Leapfrog TAG books.)  Hollis was holding Gary in the couch photos.  All weekend he kept asking me when Gary was going to be in the paper.  I guess in his mind it was all about the kitten!

Anyway, he was still super excited today when his sitter showed everyone his picture in the paper.  Holden, was unconcerned and probably asked for a cookie.

If you've stopped by courtesy of the Virginian Pilot, leave me a comment and say "Hi!"  If you're looking for more of my stuff to read, there's a nice selection of my favorites over on the left hand sidebar about half way down.  Enjoy!  And welcome!

The Urge to Bare All

Sometimes I censor what I write here.

Surprised?

I know some of my readers are.  You're thinking, "Dear lord, she's already told us the nitty gritty details of her infertility, pregnancy complications, birth, breastfeeding, depression and every disappointment and joy in her life.  What else could there be????"

Others are nodding in agreement thinking, "Yes, we all censor.  Even to ourselves.  Who ever really bares it all except in the dark of night in those terrifyingly torpid moments when we wonder who we are and why we seem to be traveling at a glacial pace to nowhere?" (Or maybe that's just me.)

I don't write about my job or my clients.  I don't write things that might hurt family members or friends.  There are certain areas of my marriage that are off limits.  Aside from that, I don't censor much.  But you see I've run across something, or should I say someone, from the past in the blogosphere.  In my corner of the world.  Not that I own the blogging world, but it's made me think even more about what and how much I reveal here.

I'm not worried about the mundane details like name, address, and phone number.  If you've got enough time that's easy enough to find.  I've been easily Google-able since before Google.  It's not that I have a diary of my daily happenings on display.  (Y'all know I find that as about as exciting as watching paint dry.)  No, what's bothering me is the display of those even more personal details found only inside my head and on the digital pages of this memorialization of my soul.

I'm 35 years old, so what do I have to hide?  From people I know now?  Nothing.  You've never known me as anything other than what I am.  I don't hide who I am now.  From people who once knew me long ago?  Who walked beside me in hallways, watched from stadium risers, and knew more intimate moments?  Everything.

I wish I could explain this with more clarity, but I find myself for once, amazingly, almost stuck for words. 

There's a bit of an exhibitionist in every blogger.  I have a need to put myself, my words, my thoughts, and my art out there for you to see, to read, to judge, to admire.  Admiration is the crack that feeds the writer's blogger's soul.  For awhile I wondered who I was writing this blog for.  Me?  Or the hundreds of people who read it?  (OK, so maybe it was hundreds.  In my blog-slacking over the last 6 months it's become more like hundred, no s. On a good day.)

But only when faced with the possibility of the ultimate of readers, the ultimate admiration, by someone who once was everything and who still does, and always will, occupy a tiny piece of my heart, do I realize the truth:

This blog is for me. 

It isn't for you.  It isn't for her. 

It isn't for him.

It would be better if I never looked again.  If I deleted the link, the contact, and walked away.  But morbid curiosity, wonder at what might have been, or even the need for some glimpse of what will be, will keep me going back.  I know.  Just to look.  To peek.  Maybe even to gloat or revel in my blessings.  Silently, of course.

I already suspect a line or two written for my eyes.  A reminder of what is no longer mine, what really hasn't been mine for a very long time - half a lifetime, almost.  I know that.

I have my own life.  I have my own love.  I have my own family.  There are no regrets.  Everything in my life made me who I am now.  Despite all my insecurities, neuroses, and overly complicated, twisted, self-absorbed, overly reflective mind, I love who I am.  I wouldn't change a thing that happened 20 years ago or 15 years ago. My first love, my first heartbreak, my first everything brought me to where I am now, to the love of my life, to the two loves of something even more.

After almost two years of frank exhibitionism, I realize that there is one person I don't want to perform for.  There is one person I don't want reading this blog.

So I'm hoping that he won't.  And I'm hoping that you won't give him the chance to.

TypePad Can Suck It (WordPress Rocks)

The Scream (with apologies to Edvard Munch)

In my inaugural post here I alluded to the large pain in the rear I had setting up my TypePad blog.  The configuring and all that was just fine.  I got my lovely banner and colors fixed up easily.

No, the problem was importing my content from Blogger.

You see, Blogger and TypePad don't speak the same language.  The blog formats are different.  Or at least that's what TypePad's help page and Blogger's help page told me.  Apparently no one at TypePad has bothered to write some little program to make importing Blogger content easy and painless. 

I did, however, have the option of reformatting my Blogger blog, saving it to my computer & then importing it into Typepad.  So I did that.  If at any time in the last 7 days, you went to my blogspot blog & it looked all wonky and unformatted, that's what I was doing.  Saving my content for the 5000th time.

I say 5000th time because it just didn't work.  I followed Blogger's directions first.  It imported about half of my posts.  Then I tried TypePad's directions (which were slightly different).  It imported all of my posts - twice - and no comments.  I tried a slightly different version of the code format and got all my posts but only 10% of my comments.  I tried the same code again and got only 42 posts and no comments.  The same exact code!  And there's no easy way  to start over on Typepad.  I had to go through and delete every. single. post. every time.  That's 342 posts and almost 5,000 comments.  ARGH!

I was a heartbeat away from stabbing myself in the eye with a binder clip just to ease the pain.

So finally, after spending several days and countless hours messing with the code to try and get all of my content imported, I started a WordPress blog.  It took me 3 minutes to export my content from Blogger to WordPress.  It got every comment, tag, and post on the first try.

Then I exported from WordPress to my computer and finally successfully imported all of my posts and comments to TypePad in only 2 tries.

But, Typepad?  If I hadn't been able to export from WordPress to TypePad so quickly?  I would be canceling my 14 day trial period and over at WordPress for good right now.  So take heed and talk to the people at Blogger!  If you want us to come over here from Blogger and pay for the privilege, then you need to make getting here a little easier. 

And, Typepad? If y'all read this and actually care and would like to offer me a free account for awhile to make up for the loads of inconvenience and wasted time, I wouldn't be opposed.  You have my email.

My fellow blogging peeps?  If you're thinking of making a jump to a new blog host, go with WordPress.  It has all the options you have on TypePad and it's a hell of a lot easier to use!

P.S. Now that I've angered the TypePad gods, If my blog suddenly disappears overnight you'll all know why.

What Are My Words Worth?

Before I get down to the nitty gritty, I have a review up at Law(yer Mama) Review.  Did you read the book, The Three Martini Playdate?  I read it; my husband read it; we both loved it.  So when PBN gave me the opportunity to review Christie Mellor's latest book, Were You Raised By Wolves? I had to do it.  So head over to Lawyer Mama Review and see what I thought.

Because you know the world revolves around my opinion....

*******************

A few weeks ago, the bloggers on D.C. Metro Moms blog had some interesting news.  We're being syndicated.  The founders of Silicon Valley Moms Blog, and all its various regional offshoots, negotiated an agreement with the McClatchy Group to syndicate three to five posts a week from the SV Moms Blogs. The McClatchy Group selected the first three posts about three weeks ago.  My post about Sexism in Advertising was one of them.

 

Here's the kicker: none of us, not even the founders of Silicon Valley Moms, are being paid.

 

Until now I've pretty much stayed out of the controversy over paid versus unpaid blogging.  I can certainly sympathize with freelance writers who pay their rent with their words.  This is what they do for a living.  They are highly trained journalists and wonderful writers.  If I accept an unpaid blogging "job" am I simply lowering the market price for the words of the professionals?

I know that a few bloggers, some who are freelance writers, have opted out of the syndication on the SV Moms blogs.  I can completely understand that.  The syndication has no value to them aside from gaining name recognition or resume building.  If you already have that as a freelance writer, why give your words away for free to print publications that normally pay you?

So what do I get out of an unpaid syndication of my words?  Name recognition?  Maybe.  Although I doubt that I'll be syndicated so regularly that people will start demanding my posts!  An ego massage?  Maybe.  It is nice to see your words, your byline in actual cellulose and newsprint.  Resume building?  Definitely.

For those of us who write (as opposed to Write) for fun, therapy, or recognition, the idea of being a freelance writer or (gasp!) writing a book is heavenly.  I've been saying since law school that I want to be a Writer when I grow up.  Granted, my job already involves a lot of writing but it isn't writing that feeds my soul.  Of course, there's no guarantee that free lance writing or even writing a book would do that either.  Publishers will only pay for what sells.  And who wants to pay to read my narcissistic rambles?

I don't pretend to know the answer to the paid versus unpaid blogging and writing debate.  I do know that business models for mainstream media are changing because of the blogosphere.  People are fleeing traditional media for the web and many of the providers of news and information on the web are doing it for free.  With print publication budgets plummeting, is it any wonder that MSM wants to get in on the free stuff?

 

I got my first hits on my syndicated article a few weeks ago, via my automatic "Lawyer Mama" Google Alert, from the Centre Daily Times in Centre, Pennsylvania and the Modesto Bee in Modesto, California.  I've gotten more since then, but I'm too lazy to link them all.  So clearly there is a market for my sort of writing, just apparently not enough to pay me.

 

Whether this increases my blog traffic (So far, no, but it might help if I posted something here on occasion!), or enables me to add "professional writer" to my resume remains to be seen.  Maybe I can even start calling myself a Writer with a capital W.  All I know is that I think it's pretty cool.  So if you happen to see me in print somewhere, for God's sake, cut it out and send it to me!

******************
Speaking of unpaid blogging, don't forget to read my review of Were You Raised by Wolves? over at Law(yer Mama) Review!

 

 

What Are My Words Worth?

Before I get down to the nitty gritty, I have a review up at Law(yer Mama) Review.  Did you read the book, The Three Martini Playdate?  I read it; my husband read it; we both loved it.  So when PBN gave me the opportunity to review Christie Mellor's latest book, Were You Raised By Wolves? I had to do it.  So head over to Lawyer Mama Review and see what I thought.

Because you know the world revolves around my opinion....

*******************

A few weeks ago, the bloggers on D.C. Metro Moms blog had some interesting news.  We're being syndicated.  The founders of Silicon Valley Moms Blog, and all its various regional offshoots, negotiated an agreement with the McClatchy Group to syndicate three to five posts a week from the SV Moms Blogs. The McClatchy Group selected the first three posts about three weeks ago.  My post about Sexism in Advertising was one of them.

 

Here's the kicker: none of us, not even the founders of Silicon Valley Moms, are being paid.

 

Until now I've pretty much stayed out of the controversy over paid versus unpaid blogging.  I can certainly sympathize with freelance writers who pay their rent with their words.  This is what they do for a living.  They are highly trained journalists and wonderful writers.  If I accept an unpaid blogging "job" am I simply lowering the market price for the words of the professionals?

I know that a few bloggers, some who are freelance writers, have opted out of the syndication on the SV Moms blogs.  I can completely understand that.  The syndication has no value to them aside from gaining name recognition or resume building.  If you already have that as a freelance writer, why give your words away for free to print publications that normally pay you?

So what do I get out of an unpaid syndication of my words?  Name recognition?  Maybe.  Although I doubt that I'll be syndicated so regularly that people will start demanding my posts!  An ego massage?  Maybe.  It is nice to see your words, your byline in actual cellulose and newsprint.  Resume building?  Definitely.

For those of us who write (as opposed to Write) for fun, therapy, or recognition, the idea of being a freelance writer or (gasp!) writing a book is heavenly.  I've been saying since law school that I want to be a Writer when I grow up.  Granted, my job already involves a lot of writing but it isn't writing that feeds my soul.  Of course, there's no guarantee that free lance writing or even writing a book would do that either.  Publishers will only pay for what sells.  And who wants to pay to read my narcissistic rambles?

I don't pretend to know the answer to the paid versus unpaid blogging and writing debate.  I do know that business models for mainstream media are changing because of the blogosphere.  People are fleeing traditional media for the web and many of the providers of news and information on the web are doing it for free.  With print publication budgets plummeting, is it any wonder that MSM wants to get in on the free stuff?

 

I got my first hits on my syndicated article a few weeks ago, via my automatic "Lawyer Mama" Google Alert, from the Centre Daily Times in Centre, Pennsylvania and the Modesto Bee in Modesto, California.  I've gotten more since then, but I'm too lazy to link them all.  So clearly there is a market for my sort of writing, just apparently not enough to pay me.

 

Whether this increases my blog traffic (So far, no, but it might help if I posted something here on occasion!), or enables me to add "professional writer" to my resume remains to be seen.  Maybe I can even start calling myself a Writer with a capital W.  All I know is that I think it's pretty cool.  So if you happen to see me in print somewhere, for God's sake, cut it out and send it to me!

******************
Speaking of unpaid blogging, don't forget to read my review of Were You Raised by Wolves? over at Law(yer Mama) Review!

 

 

Iraq: Five Years Later

I'm over at MOMocrats today spouting off about the Iraq war today. Actually, all of the MOMocrats are. Check it out.

I was also spouting off about Mommy guilt yesterday at D.C. Metro Moms Blog. Something I know nothing about. {/sarcasm} Actually, all of the D.C. Metro Moms were. Check it out.

I'm also spouting off at Lawyer Mama Dabbles about my discovery and love of color and such. Check it out. I like that photo essay so much, I may post it over here.

And you thought I'd just been slacking lately!

Yes, my readers, comments, and Technorati rating are starting to approach zero, but that's just because I don't have time to comment on all of your lovely blogs. I've been doing the "drive by" a lot lately and I apologize. I'm not doing a very good job of holding up my end of the conversation. But I'm trying.

Iraq: Five Years Later

I'm over at MOMocrats today spouting off about the Iraq war today. Actually, all of the MOMocrats are. Check it out.

I was also spouting off about Mommy guilt yesterday at D.C. Metro Moms Blog. Something I know nothing about. {/sarcasm} Actually, all of the D.C. Metro Moms were. Check it out.

I'm also spouting off at Lawyer Mama Dabbles about my discovery and love of color and such. Check it out. I like that photo essay so much, I may post it over here.

And you thought I'd just been slacking lately!

Yes, my readers, comments, and Technorati rating are starting to approach zero, but that's just because I don't have time to comment on all of your lovely blogs. I've been doing the "drive by" a lot lately and I apologize. I'm not doing a very good job of holding up my end of the conversation. But I'm trying.

The Emperor's New Clothes

My blog is my little narcissistic home away from home. In my corporeal life, my friends and family tend to get annoyed if I spend too much time naval gazing, talking about myself, or whining about my real (or imagined) problems. In the blog world, people seem to enjoy reading about my foibles and frequently come back for more.

Of course, part of that return readership is no doubt related to the dialogue and rapport we establish on our blogs. But let's face it, part of the appeal of blog reading is the glimpse we get into someone else's life. That life may be one you envy, one you relate to, or one that makes you feel superior and relieved to be you. Sometimes it's all of those. Frequently it's all of those.

I know that I personally enjoy reading about politics, social issues, and things we can do to make a difference. But the blogs posts that haunt me are personal. They incorporate real experiences, real relationships, and real problems into hauntingly beautiful writing. It's like a never ending novel with my favorite characters. But I get to keep reading about Lizzie and Mr. Darcy's life after their marriage. I read about their restrained arguments, fertility problems, and intolerable in-laws.

Sometimes, I get to meet my favorite characters in person.

When I think about the things I leave off of my blog and cloak in "privacy," I frequently try to compare it to writing a novel. I ask myself "if I put this fight with my husband in a book with different names, would he be angry?" The answer is sometimes yes and sometimes no. But a blog is different. There is no line stating "any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental" to hide behind. We aren't characters in a novel. This is my life out there for all the world to Google, read, and judge.

So how do I maintain that thin, but important, veil of privacy around those I love?

I do have certain rules. I don't blog about my sex life or my personal relationship with my husband. This has left some readers with the impression that T is annoyingly perfect. Trust me when I say he is anything but perfect. He's a hell of a lot closer to it than I am, but no one is perfect. But our marriage and the trust we have to share our innermost feelings is far more important than a blog post. T's issues are not mine to share. They belong to him. My issues with T are not mine to share. They belong to us.

I also refrain from blogging about family problems. As with my relationship with my husband, trust is more important than airing my parents' dirty laundry. That's why I have a therapist!

I don't blog about work. I have no desire to be Dooced, destroy my relationships with opposing counsel and co-workers, or be disbarred.

Those are the easy rules.

The hardest rules are those with my children. That's a post for another day because I don't have 5 hours to share my thoughts (and guilt) about their privacy.

What about other people I interact with or people from my past? They fall into a gray area. I can't avoid blogging about any of my personal relationships or this would be a pretty boring blog. But I do have to think about how I would feel if that person found my blog. Or how I would feel if anyone from my past found my blog.

I've written about a painful relationship and break up I had in my early twenties and my still, somewhat, unresolved feelings about the whole matter. How would I feel if my ex-boyfriend read my post about him? How would he feel? I don't think I would be upset. In fact, I know I wouldn't. I would never post something about someone I know that I wouldn't tell them in person if they asked.

But the ex? I have a feeling he might be a bit upset about my revelations about his more recent past. I would apologize for hurting him, but I don't think I would remove the post. If he had confidentially shared the information about his past, I would never have written the post in the first place. But he didn't and ultimately the post is more about me than anyone else.

I was forced to think about my invisible cloak of privacy because two people I knew in high school are now occasionally reading my blog (Hi, K! Hi, B!) one of whom I suspect had a crush on me once upon a time.... (Or maybe I'm projecting.) Somehow it's easier to think of strangers reading my intimate thoughts about a deeply personal topic than it is to think of friends who knew me and my ex-boyfriend, who knew the people we were then.

Happily Ever After was one of the most personal posts I've ever written. It says a lot about me and who I am now. And so, ultimately, I guess I'm happy to have anyone who knew me then, know me now.

When you're looking at me on display in all my naked glory? Just try to ignore the stretch marks.

This post is for Julie's weekly Hump Day Hmmm.

The Emperor's New Clothes

My blog is my little narcissistic home away from home. In my corporeal life, my friends and family tend to get annoyed if I spend too much time naval gazing, talking about myself, or whining about my real (or imagined) problems. In the blog world, people seem to enjoy reading about my foibles and frequently come back for more.

Of course, part of that return readership is no doubt related to the dialogue and rapport we establish on our blogs. But let's face it, part of the appeal of blog reading is the glimpse we get into someone else's life. That life may be one you envy, one you relate to, or one that makes you feel superior and relieved to be you. Sometimes it's all of those. Frequently it's all of those.

I know that I personally enjoy reading about politics, social issues, and things we can do to make a difference. But the blogs posts that haunt me are personal. They incorporate real experiences, real relationships, and real problems into hauntingly beautiful writing. It's like a never ending novel with my favorite characters. But I get to keep reading about Lizzie and Mr. Darcy's life after their marriage. I read about their restrained arguments, fertility problems, and intolerable in-laws.

Sometimes, I get to meet my favorite characters in person.

When I think about the things I leave off of my blog and cloak in "privacy," I frequently try to compare it to writing a novel. I ask myself "if I put this fight with my husband in a book with different names, would he be angry?" The answer is sometimes yes and sometimes no. But a blog is different. There is no line stating "any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental" to hide behind. We aren't characters in a novel. This is my life out there for all the world to Google, read, and judge.

So how do I maintain that thin, but important, veil of privacy around those I love?

I do have certain rules. I don't blog about my sex life or my personal relationship with my husband. This has left some readers with the impression that T is annoyingly perfect. Trust me when I say he is anything but perfect. He's a hell of a lot closer to it than I am, but no one is perfect. But our marriage and the trust we have to share our innermost feelings is far more important than a blog post. T's issues are not mine to share. They belong to him. My issues with T are not mine to share. They belong to us.

I also refrain from blogging about family problems. As with my relationship with my husband, trust is more important than airing my parents' dirty laundry. That's why I have a therapist!

I don't blog about work. I have no desire to be Dooced, destroy my relationships with opposing counsel and co-workers, or be disbarred.

Those are the easy rules.

The hardest rules are those with my children. That's a post for another day because I don't have 5 hours to share my thoughts (and guilt) about their privacy.

What about other people I interact with or people from my past? They fall into a gray area. I can't avoid blogging about any of my personal relationships or this would be a pretty boring blog. But I do have to think about how I would feel if that person found my blog. Or how I would feel if anyone from my past found my blog.

I've written about a painful relationship and break up I had in my early twenties and my still, somewhat, unresolved feelings about the whole matter. How would I feel if my ex-boyfriend read my post about him? How would he feel? I don't think I would be upset. In fact, I know I wouldn't. I would never post something about someone I know that I wouldn't tell them in person if they asked.

But the ex? I have a feeling he might be a bit upset about my revelations about his more recent past. I would apologize for hurting him, but I don't think I would remove the post. If he had confidentially shared the information about his past, I would never have written the post in the first place. But he didn't and ultimately the post is more about me than anyone else.

I was forced to think about my invisible cloak of privacy because two people I knew in high school are now occasionally reading my blog (Hi, K! Hi, B!) one of whom I suspect had a crush on me once upon a time.... (Or maybe I'm projecting.) Somehow it's easier to think of strangers reading my intimate thoughts about a deeply personal topic than it is to think of friends who knew me and my ex-boyfriend, who knew the people we were then.

Happily Ever After was one of the most personal posts I've ever written. It says a lot about me and who I am now. And so, ultimately, I guess I'm happy to have anyone who knew me then, know me now.

When you're looking at me on display in all my naked glory? Just try to ignore the stretch marks.

This post is for Julie's weekly Hump Day Hmmm.

'Tis The Season ... To Be Tacky

I have this rule about Christmas lights. There shall only be white lights on the outside of my home. We put colored lights on our tree and I certainly don't do a designer tree. I love all of the family ornaments and those we've collected over the year. Our Christmas tree is special. It's personal.

But in my yard there will be no inflatable Santa, no plastic nativity scene, no hodgepodge of lights causing seizures among the neighborhood children and sucking up enough energy to power Lichtenstein. This is pretty much Lawyer Mama's Third Commandment. It comes right after "Thou shalt put the toilet seat down" and "Thou shalt not pick your nose in public."

Why the edict on the lights? It's a slippery slope. It starts out as a harmless little lighted mechanical reindeer. Next thing you know, your yard looks like this:


I was flabbergasted when I saw this today. But then puzzled when I thought I spotted an ostrich in the plastic nativity scene. I may be a heathen, but I think I'd remember that from the Bible.


I made T drive around the other side of the house so I could check the ostrich out from a different angle.


Well, it's still tacky.

*****************
Folks, today is Day 8 of the Stalking of Wil Wheaton. Alpha Dogma was kind enough to award me a BhD for my relentless stalking of Wil Wheaton. She even offered up some Wil eye candy for my perusal. Even if Wil never acknowledges my existence, at least I'll always have that. Thank you, my dear AD. Thank you.

I'm so putting that on my resume.

And now I'm passing the BhD on to Jenny from Mama Drama and The Blogess, the inspiration for my Wil stalking campaign. Jenny is so damn funny it's almost sad. In a funny way. Her Halloween post nearly gave me a stroke. Jenny excels at funny, but she also excels at the personal and she's a fantastic writer. Plus, she really gets me. I mean, she's semi-stalking Amy Sedaris and even wrote her a letter. With pictures. And gave it to her at BlogHer. Dude. I want to be Jenny when I grow up. Or don't grow up.

Seriously, what is with those Houston bloggers? They all seem to be amazing. Jenny, Julie, and Kyla are almost enough to make me move to Houston.

'Tis The Season ... To Be Tacky

I have this rule about Christmas lights. There shall only be white lights on the outside of my home. We put colored lights on our tree and I certainly don't do a designer tree. I love all of the family ornaments and those we've collected over the year. Our Christmas tree is special. It's personal.

But in my yard there will be no inflatable Santa, no plastic nativity scene, no hodgepodge of lights causing seizures among the neighborhood children and sucking up enough energy to power Lichtenstein. This is pretty much Lawyer Mama's Third Commandment. It comes right after "Thou shalt put the toilet seat down" and "Thou shalt not pick your nose in public."

Why the edict on the lights? It's a slippery slope. It starts out as a harmless little lighted mechanical reindeer. Next thing you know, your yard looks like this:


I was flabbergasted when I saw this today. But then puzzled when I thought I spotted an ostrich in the plastic nativity scene. I may be a heathen, but I think I'd remember that from the Bible.


I made T drive around the other side of the house so I could check the ostrich out from a different angle.


Well, it's still tacky.

*****************
Folks, today is Day 8 of the Stalking of Wil Wheaton. Alpha Dogma was kind enough to award me a BhD for my relentless stalking of Wil Wheaton. She even offered up some Wil eye candy for my perusal. Even if Wil never acknowledges my existence, at least I'll always have that. Thank you, my dear AD. Thank you.

I'm so putting that on my resume.

And now I'm passing the BhD on to Jenny from Mama Drama and The Blogess, the inspiration for my Wil stalking campaign. Jenny is so damn funny it's almost sad. In a funny way. Her Halloween post nearly gave me a stroke. Jenny excels at funny, but she also excels at the personal and she's a fantastic writer. Plus, she really gets me. I mean, she's semi-stalking Amy Sedaris and even wrote her a letter. With pictures. And gave it to her at BlogHer. Dude. I want to be Jenny when I grow up. Or don't grow up.

Seriously, what is with those Houston bloggers? They all seem to be amazing. Jenny, Julie, and Kyla are almost enough to make me move to Houston.

The Good, The Bad, & The Stupid

Today is my Blogiversary.

One year ago, Lawyer Mama burst into the Blogosphere with drivel about poop, motherhood, life, and stuff. I fully expected my mom and maybe my husband to read. Anyone else was a bonus. Now, 150 posts later, I'm amazed. I don't know why the hell you people keep coming back, but you do.

And I love it.

But because I'm too damn lazy to write a real post for you tonight, I thought I'd share some of my personal favorites from the year. A Lawyer Mama's Greatest Hits, if you will. Enjoy!

The Good Stuff:

Competitive Mothering
Mommy Blogs Are The New Pink
Objects In The Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

The Bad Stuff:

Dark and Stormy Seas
Breathe

The Stupid Stuff:

Poo Flinging
Just a Boy and His Vacuum
Just Call Me "Grace"
Wherein I Admit That I Am A Bad Mother

Thanks for sharing the past year with me. It's been great.

The Good, The Bad, & The Stupid

Today is my Blogiversary.

One year ago, Lawyer Mama burst into the Blogosphere with drivel about poop, motherhood, life, and stuff. I fully expected my mom and maybe my husband to read. Anyone else was a bonus. Now, 150 posts later, I'm amazed. I don't know why the hell you people keep coming back, but you do.

And I love it.

But because I'm too damn lazy to write a real post for you tonight, I thought I'd share some of my personal favorites from the year. A Lawyer Mama's Greatest Hits, if you will. Enjoy!

The Good Stuff:

Competitive Mothering
Mommy Blogs Are The New Pink
Objects In The Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

The Bad Stuff:

Dark and Stormy Seas
Breathe

The Stupid Stuff:

Poo Flinging
Just a Boy and His Vacuum
Just Call Me "Grace"
Wherein I Admit That I Am A Bad Mother

Thanks for sharing the past year with me. It's been great.

Race and the Blogosphere

This post is part of Julie Pippert's Hump Day Hmm and BlogRhet's "Let's Talk About Race, Baby" week long initiative.

There have been some fascinating debates going on in the Blogosphere about race as it relates to blogging over the last few weeks. In fact, Julie's