This is fun. I am just like you. The only difference really is that I HAD the big career and chose, at the ripe old age of POST childrearing, to chuck it all and stay home.

Because it makes me happy.

And fills me up.

So you see, I am just like you.

I love your writing Beck. You can take what a lot of us feel and write it into words that actually make us smile in the midst of it. And speaking of holidays, you are great with them and if those film makers were smart they would make that into some kind of documentary with you!

It's funny, because I often spend time wishing I could be anywhere near as good a mom (or writer, for that matter) as you are.

How funny. I would run too if people started asking about my blog.

Hmm. I wonder - did you post this here rather than the other blog so none of the movie people would read it?

Did your dad make the blog-comment as some sort of sociological fun-fact? Like: "This is my daughter - she travels via jet-pack!"

no one i ever talk to face to face with knows about my blog, so i have never had to discuss it. out loud. to a human face. shudder.

and for what it is worth i think you are one of the best writers and moms out there--ye olde homemaker, hehe!

See, the error was in how your dad expressed it. He should have said, "That's my daughter. She's a writer, too. And a brilliant one at that. You can find her work online." That, my dear, would be no word of a lie.

I liked what Sage said - it's not that you have a blog, but that you're a writer. I have that career, although probably not as big nor impressive as the one that you imagine in your post, and wistfully imagine a life where I get to do a smaller handful of things, but do them really, really well.

"it's about me" is THE perfect answer ;)

A great answer. You need to talk to your dad about how he introduces you, though!

- Heidi :)

Why do we love blogging so much, and then fail to think it is a worthwhile thing? My friend was recently asking about my blog, and I felt as if I were making apologies for even having it. And thoughts were running through my head like'she must think this is so... stupid!'

But really, I ove blogging, and I think other people enjoy reading what I write, or else they wouldn't keep reading. Right?

That works. It is funny, I somehow have less trouble now when I can say that it is about our homeschooling family AND my artwork. :)

funny because I often wistfully imagine a grown-up life where I am married, have children and get to wear whatever clothing feels comfortable (and NOT business clothes), where I get to plan out meals rather than do take-out meals and bake cookies whenever I want (and not be the only one eating them) and life could be blissfully simple. I guess I'm still hoping that life is around the corner for me. Until then, I get to live it vicariously through your blog about you.

"It's about me!"....love it!

I rarely tell people IRL that I blog. My husband likes to share it, much like your father. Grr. If asked, I say it's about potty-training (not). No one wants to read about *that*!

I loved this post - very funny and so well written. Thanks, see ya.

We are so alike. It's scary. If the two of us ever got together in our foxy boots and sat around coming up with adjectives, the world would never be the same.

I'm not so good at baking, but I'm a genius with a crockpot. lol!

Oops, I must not have typed correctly the anti-spam tool. :)

We are so alike. If we got together in our foxy boots and sat around coming up with adjectives, the world would never be the same.

I'm not so great at baking, but I'm a genius with a crock-pot! :)

We all feel that we are just like you. And that, my friend, is the magic of your writing.

And too often my blog can feel like one prolonged exercise in misplaced narcissism - especially when I'm trying to explain what it is to people who are looking at slouchy, unimpressive me, wondering what I would ever have to write.

But I love my odd, narrow little life and I'm very good at the few things I'm very good at.

This is when I felt most like you while I was reading this fabulous post. And no, it's not because you used the word "slouchy."

Those middle two paragraphs should be in quotes -- they're YOUR words.

Sometimes my blog comes up IRL situations and people ask for the URL to check it out and I immediately feel pressure to write all sorts of analytical, brilliant posts just so they won't realize I'm a complete dork.

Somehow having people from the blogsophere read my words and potentially think I'm a dork is much less unnerving. Probably because I don't have to sit on a couch with you at book club.

When your dad introduced you, you should have opened up your blog and told the film people to have a look. I'm sure they would have been much impressed and enjoyed it thoroughly, just like the rest of us. You are a wonderful writer and should be proud. Don't ever undervalue yourself!!! It's all about you?? So what? You, my dear, are great!

I had the career too and actually loved it, but I'm starting to find my groove in this new career at home and your blog has certainly helped me along that path. See, your blog inspires! (Just made your pumpkin muffins this morning actually)

I'm really kind of in love with this post.

You like all good writers write about every day life and make it interesting. That IS an interesting career! I enjoyed every word. Keep it up!

And who wouldn't want to read something about you?

Ah Beck, you always make me smile. And crave baked goods.

yes, I know, blog explanation to non-blog people falls very, very flat in my world...speaking of flat - tell me more about the flat bread oven. I am riveted.

You do inspire -- there are tips. And, hes, I would offer the same advice for a mouse.

Dodging rutebagas sounds dangerous. What, exactly, is a flat bread oven?

you blog is about beautiful insights to everyday living with children, and it's fantastic. Tell them I said so.

I just go with carmel dip. Bought from the store. Because I am lazy.

The grocery store here used to carry these things called "Wrapples" - a circular sheet of caramel that you wrapped around the apple, pushed the included popsicle stick into, then gently warmed in the oven on a greased cookie sheet. It worked well, unless you ate all the sheets of caramel before you ever got around to wrapping them around apples.

As long as you are happy (or even when not), we are all happy. For your blogs, that is. You should have stressed that plural--blogS.

I find your tips awfully handy.
am now going to look up 'flatbread oven'

I'm glad your blog is about you. Funny, Canadian, full-of-adjectives you. It always makes me smile. As for the caramel apples, I'm adding that to the list of things I hope my children never ask me to make.

I've been waiting ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY to come by here and read your weekly post. (I was actually looking forward to it yesterday.) And finally I'm here and you've done a great job as usual.

The thiings you're good at are SO important and they matter SO much!

Beck this may be the best one yet. Not because of its brilliance, but because it really is the essence of you coming through.

You ARE good at all those things (and more I suspect) and you make real life, everyday life, interesting in ways that few can.

Your blogs inspire and awe all the rest of us. Don't ever feel embarrassed or that you have to apologize for them.

"It's about me." That's great!

If only I were better at the "expressive" part of the language rather than the grammatical part--I could better tell you how much I like you and your blogs!

See, and this is why my family knows not about my online activities (although when I word it like that it has a faintly dirty ring to it). I just cannot imagine my mother-in-law trying to explain blogging to her friends. And oh, how she would try.

See, this is why my family knows not about my online activities (although when I word it like that it has a faintly dirty ring to it). I can't imagine my mother-in-law trying to explain blogging to her friends. And oh, how she would try.

What a great post, Beck! Loved it!

So perfectly said. My parents do the same thing, and I can never explain the dark looks. Whatever. Maybe I'll print this to hand out later.

I would absolutely shrink if someone would have announced my blog that way. You my dear handled it wonderfully!

Yours is the first blog I check when I am checking blogs. You are a wonderful writer and mother and you are teaching your children to live creatively and savor special moments, even the burned caramel.

Wish we (I would have felt equally intimidated) didn't feel so apologetic about doing the hard work of mothering.

I have a friend who introduced me to other friends once, as "and this is my friend who blogs." because she thinks it's so neat that I blog. I got blank stares; then she apologized later for introducing me that way, in case I was offended in any way. But I wasn't. As someone noted, those who don't blog don't really get it.
A day in the life of you, is a treat to read about indeed my friend.

Oooh. Documentary filmmakers. Were they all earthy looking with nubby wool sweaters and tan Levi's cords? Did they have odd arrangements of facial hair and artfully assymetrical bed head? Were they infact the living breathing images of Simon and Garfunkal? Because that is what filmmakers look like in my fantasy life. And they smell like Patchouli.

I'm not going back to office work until I've gotten a definitive answer to the question of opaque nylons - fashion friend or faux pas?

Okay, I'm done rambling. Fear not - this all made no sense to me EITHER. Maybe I'll just ramble away at my own blog.

1) I wish I had written this post. I am at once seething with jealousy and sighing with happiness that the words are out in the world for me to come back and read whenever I want.

2) I wish I lived in Canada, eh. I think we might be friends if I did. I hope we would anyway, because I think you're brilliant.

"one prolonged exercise in misplaced narcissism" -- that's BRILLERS! ;) You are so darned good at this, Becks. And, you know I totally relate to this post. :)