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I've been enjoying the Women's History Month coverage on BlogHer. Maria handled the list of formidable women in politics, while Sarah talked about the greatest female athletes. While they were at it, Leslie covered education, and KPerfetto wrote about the women in music who are - and should be - in the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame.
(If I missed anyone, apologies - half the month hanging out in Vietnam will cause a girl to lose track of her posts.)
Anyway, yes, true, true, women rule in many quarters, all of them arguably bloggable. But when it comes to any woman's history, it really doesn't get off the dime without a woman to (as she may or may not frequently remind you) bring you into this world. No matter how the relationship turns out, we all begin at - and move on from - that beginning
You've heard about Mommy Bloggers, right? Just a little bit? For my last-day contribution here at March's power-woman central, I thought I'd flip that script just a bit and look for some women who are writing about their moms. DaughterBloggers, if you will, with a little bit of gender-bending thrown in for good measure.
The first question is, do you? Write about your mom, that is. A quick scan of my blog shows that I don't, not a whole lot, anyway. I do take a lot of pictures of my mother and those inevitably end up on Flickr, in spite of her concern that "all those people on the internet can see me." And it's not just me, either. There are currently 1,782,529 photos tagged with "mom" on the site.
I don't know why mom stories don't end up on the blog so much. It's not like they're not often quite humorous or even poignant. Maybe I'm just self-involved or too obsessed with writing about caucuses, who knows. When I do mention her, it's often in relating our conversations, which are often entertaining in a "you maybe had to be there" kind of way. I enjoyed a recent chat we had about her thinly veiled attempts at sending me out there into the horrifying singles scene in my town.
Me: Um, did you pretend to be me while you were out last night?
Mom: No.
Me: Are you sure? Because some lady sent me an e-mail - at WORK - telling me how great it was to meet me and sending me a detailed list of singles events in the area.
Mom: Oh, yes. I met her in the bathroom at PGA Tour.
Me: And you gave her my e-mail address why? And pretended to be me why?
Mom: I did NOT pretend to be you. I just TOLD her about you.
Me: Oh wow. Again, why?
Mom: I don't know. She was nice.
Me: And because I so love group activities like apple picking and paintball with people I don't know?
Mom: Well, haha, just delete it. But you never know, it could be fun.
Me: Mom, I've attended two specifically "singles" events when coerced. One was populated by Catholic Star Trek fans, and at the other, my two hot prospects were the George Costanza guy and the old man dressed like a railroad conductor. Pass.
(Please note, if such events have worked for you or your partner is a railroad conductor, this is not a hateful missive. It is simply my view and does not reflect those of the management, including any who may blame the patriarchy.)
Here's another favorite recent conversation.
Mom: I just miss it.
Me: Like Faith Evans misses Biggie.
Mom: Yeah.
Me: Do you know who that is?
Mom: Who?
Me: Right.
Beautiful stuff. The thing is, that as deep and as profound as the relationship can be and inherently is, humor is a big part of it, and conversation even bigger, so that's usually what ends up here. Plus I love the use of dialogue to really crystallize moments, and voila.
I loved this post at the Life and Times of Organic Mama about gifts from her mother.
I don’t know if it’s because she lives far way or because she loves how easily point and click sends things wending their way from Amazon’s vast stores to my driveway, but this has lately become a much more












