Mommy blogging: a facking radical act

I have always been a rebel in my own mind.

I’m like a lot of people out there: I adore the notion of myself as daring and fearless when, in fact, there is little about the way I live my day-to-day life that could be considered radical.

I am a working mother. I am a wife. I’m a bit of a smart-ass, but when the chips are down I’m loath to actually offend people. Sure I fly float planes in my spare time and it’s an interesting pursuit, perhaps even brave, but I’m about 60 years late to the revolution.

What I do here, what I write about on Don Mills Diva, is not courageous.  I’m fluffy and I have always owned that. I am a manipulater. At my best I can choose and position my words in such a fashion that the tears and chuckles of my readers are almost involuntary. 

I’m shameless, really.

This blog is not my personal diary and it never will be.  My intimate struggles - and you must trust me when I say I have intimate struggles – are not detailed here.

I am not Mr. Lady, who stood beautiful and alone on stage at BlogHer, read this post, brought the facking house down and goddamn-broke my heart. I am not Maria – she of the shirt - who teases me for saying facking when I really mean…well, you know.

So why did I grab a microphone during a BlogHer discussion entitled Is Mommy Blogging a Radical Act? say “Hell yes, it is!?”

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