I’ve kind of been up to something. After reading Emily Matchar’s article Why I can’t stop reading Mormon housewife blogs : I’m a young, feminist atheist who can’t bake a cupcake. Why am I addicted to the shiny, happy lives of these women? I got to a-thinking. It’s quite an interesting read, particularly because I don’t feel like I can identify with most of those famous shiny, happy ladies. Am I a mommy blogger? I am Mormon… but I was blogging long before I had even the intention of being a mother. And I’m a terrible home maker - I look at these women who are knee deep in the “New Domesticity” and both envy and study them. I sure wish I was good at this home thing. And no amount of telling myself that I have many other qualities will make up for the awful feeling I get when we sit in my chaotic house, eating food I know none of us likes. So I read these blogs and try to pump myself up, telling myself it can be done. There are loads of ladies out there who are talented in more than one thing, so there’s got to be hope for me.
The husband and I were talking about my old professional life, and all the things I simply don’t have credibility in anymore, because I’m not currently active in any of it. I’m pretty much only active in raising my two children. The house is a wreck, I can’t seem to get anything to work right, but every day I sit down at the piano with WonderGirl, sing with the Dude and dance with them to everything from Bach to the Beatles.
And it occured to me - that’s my credibility. I’m a mom teaching music. Those bloggers are always sharing their amazing ideas and creations, and these kids - their music appreciation and abilities are my creation, and I’m always working and adding to it. I’d even venture to say I’m kind of good at it.
So, I decided to start my own craft-type blog, but for what I create - http://atreblemaker.blogspot.com. Please visit, and share any of what you do to share your love of music with your wee ones. I would sure love to learn from you!!
PS. I’m not ending this blog by ANY stretch of the imagination. You can’t get rid of me that easily.