When I carefully plucked the name Bad Parenting Moments out of a fever dream or after inhaling a carton of suspect Chinese food, I must have realized I would pigeon-hole myself in the dreaded compartmentalization genre of “mommy-blogger”. At first, the pressure of writing only about parenting was intense. My most popular posts, perhaps the posts that brought you to me (and, thank you for being here) are about my parenting misadventures. It is a huge part of my writing ethos. I am a mommy. I write about mommyhood. I fail. I laugh. You hopefully laugh too. We move on together. It’s an equation that works.
As my children grow, I am running out of the buckets of early childhood development mismanagement material. They now mostly behave at restaurants. That’s a lie. They mostly misbehave. Still, I’ve already written about that. They now can communicate in more than just gurgles and manic pointing. I’ve already written about that. They still do not listen. They never will and I already wrote a post about that. And, when it comes to the reinvention of universally shared material, parenting ties prostitution as the world’s oldest profession. It’s all been done and done and done and now, our vaginas are falling apart and our backs hurt.
So, what now?
Well, I’m going to keep writing. About my marriage – when my husband agrees to it after sex or a few cocktails. About parenting – as I enter this new and not as boy band level popular phase of child-rearing. About what it means to be a mother and a woman – and how the two criss-cross over battered, well-worn tracks. About life, fears, regret, hope. Some will be funny. Some will not. Such is life.
I will not do Top 10 lists. I will not sell you down the river for a packet of post-its. I will not write poor content simply for “hits”. I will write because I love to write. I will write as if the most important people in the world are reading it. And, they are. You’re still here, right?
I will continue to thank you for being here. Thank you.
I’m heading down a poorly lit path. It looks rocky and my children may hit you with one of the large, dead branches they plucked along the way. Grab your own rock and stick. Let’s do this. Let’s beat out a new path together.
Yours in good times and definitely in bad,
Bethany (Bad Parenting Moments)