Spent a few minutes hiding from all the runts and reading the Paper. There was an article in the Deseret News about Mormon Mommy Bloggers and a network they have created for support and to boost readership. Since I am still an avowed technophobe that has yet to figure out how to link articles beyond cut and paste, I'll have to just paste it in and let you all figure out how to get there on your own.
http://www.deseretnews.com/article/700036190/Mormon-moms-connect-through-blogs.html
Now, I know that there are plenty of Mommy blogs and even a good number of Mormon Mommy blogs. There are also a fair batch of Mr. Mom blogs (though most of those are pretty crass and often display questionable humour, even by my "flexible" standards).
But I would love to see another Mormon Mr Mom blog. I have looked and am yet to find anyone else writing about the challenges of being a stay-at-home-Dad in a society that usually deems such circumstances anathema. I always knew I was weird, I just didn't think I was that weird.
While I enjoy being a unique voice, I would not mind the added publicity and especially the extra blog traffic that might come from an association with such a community. Anyone familiar with a group would be helping me out a lot by pointing the way. Things have slowed down around here, no doubt due to my long vacation earlier this spring, and I'd like to build readership back up. If friday's session with the contact fitter doesn't work out, this blog may have to become my source of income. And right now you readers make as much off this thing as I do.
Anyway, as I sat pondering my lonewolf status, I received a steady stream of complainants to the table. Each of them offered a familiar gripe; Peff wouldn't share the video game controller. I solved the problem the way I usually do: I turned the games off.
This produced a reaction similar to the high frequency noise disruption devices employed by tactical S.W.A.T. teams. I have been to an AC/DC show, and Angus' screaming guitar cannot touch this wailing in terms of pitch, sustainability, and sheer decibel level. I am sure that I have told you before that this is how the walls of Jericho came down. Destroying Angels, indeed.
Since I was trying to formulate a few more thoughts for this post, I chose the chicken's way out and bribed those without a controller with marshmallows and green goldfish crackers (ain't that a contradiction in terms?). The screeching stopped immediately.
****Editor's Note
If I were to put a dose of Ritalin in each treat, could I then spell it marshmellows? HaHaHa! Oh, put down the phone. It was funny and you know it. Child Services people are all at lunch right now anyway. And beside, they already know all about me. And this was strictly a theoretical sidebar not actual practice! Shame on you for believing everything you read on the Internet!
****
My favorite part of the morning so far has been Reaggers couture fashion. She came over wearing blue and pink flower-pattern pedal pushers, a matching pink top, sandals, and of course, a pink and blue ski cap. I wish my camera had batteries right now.She is also riding a stick horse that seems to enjoy marshmallows as well. At least I am assuming that is where the mallows are going, because she has been asking for more at least twice as often as the other kids.
Another high point is that Squizzle has learned that if he walks up to the side of the table and reaches from his tippy-toes, he can push the button on the side of the laptop that opens the CDROM drive. He thinks this is utterly hilarious. I find it uber annoying. At least he's not screeching.
I gotta go. I think I hear the telltale sign of another marshmallow fight beginning.
Where the H is that Ritalin?
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