Prior to launching The Laughing Stork in 2009, I firmly adhered to the five-second rule — that is, if I had a job longer than five seconds, I determined it was time to move on. Yes, I was a professional job hopper from the moment I graduated college, working as a litigation legal assistant, a health care publicist, a Fortune 50 marketing executive, an assistant to a scary agent at a top talent agency, a staff writer at the soap opera “The Bold and the Beautiful” and a celebrity humor blogger.
And that was just my first year out of college.
No! I kid! We all know that electricity didn’t exist back when I graduated from college, much less these crazy things we call “blogs.” But I was happy to keep the revolving door of jobs spinning for a long time, totally making the favorable job market my bitch. (Oh, those were the days, weren’t they?) Then I got pregnant and thought, “Huh. Do I really want jokes about Lindsay Lohan’s nip slips to be my legacy?” Oh, sure, it might make my parents proud, but is that what I want to write down as my occupation on my daughter’s future school paperwork: CELEBRITY NIP-SLIP FUN-MAKER?
So I started writing about this parenting journey and, lo and behold, I discovered a job I loved. A job I looked forward to every day. A job with rich comedy material, schedule flexibility and, most importantly, the freedom to pee whenever I wanted, however many times I wanted, with only my cats around to judge me (and judge, they did) — a freedom that was key throughout both of my pregnancies. I have been writing this here blog for more than THREE YEARS now, a record for me, or as Kim Kardashian would call it: Enough time for 15 marriages! (365 days of the year divided by 72 days of marriage = Yet Another Lame Kardashian Joke, I KNOW, I KNOW.)
I adore my work as a family humorist here (and with Disney’s parenting site, BabyZone.com), with nary a three-year “itch” to be scratched. HOWEVER… as much fun as it is, it’s still work, so of course there are some aspects of the gig that aren’t filled with rainbows and unicorns. Ten of them, to be exact. Which is just so convenient, isn’t it, because then I can create one of my beloved Top 10 lists:
The 10 Worst Things About Being a “Mommy Blogger”
10. Whenever I tell people what I do, they say, “A mommy blogger? How cute!” in a tone normally reserved for greeting bow-wearing Shih Tzus sitting outside of Starbucks.
9. Whenever I can’t let it go and feel compelled to make my job sound cool — It’s a business! I’m going to parlay it into a book! I CAN PEE WHENEVER I WANT, HOWEVER MANY TIMES I WANT! — those same people say, “Hey, you’re keeping yourself busy. I think that’s just great.”
8. In other words, bow-wearing Shih Tzus get more respect.
7. “Mom blog.” It sounds like a new strain of the Monkeypox virus.
6. My dad doesn’t understand what I do. So whenever anybody asks about me, he still brags that I wrote for “The Bold and the Beautiful.” Which ended six years ago.
5. People have no qualms asking a “mommy blogger” how much money she makes. A question that’s almost as sensitive as asking a pregnant woman how much weight she’s gained. Almost.
4. Every time my husband and mom say something they believe is clever (key word: “believe”), they’ll ask, “Are you going to include that on your site? Huh? Because I think you should!”
3. Every time my husband and mom say or do something embarrassing, they’ll moan, “PLEASE tell me you’re not going to write about that on your site.”*
2. Because I work from home, some people assume I’m just sitting around eating bon-bons and gossiping with the cats and watching House Hunters all day, so I’m free to enjoy a leisurely lunch with them while the kids are at daycare. Which is just ridiculous! I would never interrupt a House Hunters marathon to go out to lunch. Geesh.
1. My go-to sources of comedy: poop that explodes, poop that doesn’t make it into the toilet and poop that slips under my fingernails. (Meaning: People have come to expect highly sophisticated humor from me; that’s a lot of pressure.)
*Actually, they’re great sports about it. Although Mr. Candy does start a fair number of sentences with, “You know what you should write about…?”