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Recently I realized that this I had
been writing this blog for a decade now. (This blog is officially older than my
youngest child!) When I went back to verify the actual date that I began
regaling my loyal fans with my wordplay, I realized that it was actually in
January of 2013.
I missed my own decade-iversary!
In my defense, it’s not really my
fault. After all, there was zero fanfare made at all. I didn’t get a parade in
my honor, there were no stars named after me (or the blog!), no ridiculously
ginormous sized cakes with a big number 10 on it, and not one single mayor of
any city that I have ever lived in gave me a key. What the heck?
I mean, I understand not all the
fanfare, or even most of the fanfare, but couldn’t I at least get a little bit? If
not a parade, how about one flautist carrying a banner? Instead of a continent
sized cake, how about one or two (dozen) cupcakes? Sure, the star naming may
have been reaching too big but surely a cloud could be named Modern Mom Mayhem.
(But you can call him by his nickname…Bob.)
I’d still like a giant key to a
city though. Not for the import, just because of how cool it would be to have a
huge shiny key that’s as tall as I am. To be fair, I don’t really know if
that’s how keys to the city work. I am basing this solely on my imagination
here which is, admittedly, fueled by Hollywood's version of Mayor-giving-keys ceremonies. (Yeah, my imagination is a fun place.) For all I know, the key to the city is just a
boring old key that is easily lost. Though, that doesn’t seem like a real great
idea honestly. Can you imagine having to make that call to the locksmith?
“Uh, hi, is this John’s
Locksmithery? I need you to come quickly, I’m locked out of the city.”
Ten
years ago, when I started these rants, uh, I mean blog posts, who knew that it
would last this long? Who knew that you’d hang in there for ten whole years?
Not YOU, but you. Not single you the
reader, but like collectively you, as
a whole. Unless you single reader has read for all ten years. (And if that is
the case, what is wrong with you? And do you want to be friends?)
(Quick left turn: That fun
imagination of mine is now having a field day with a picture of a collective you as one giant, lumpy,
multi-person. Think Violet in Willy Wonka but with a bunch of people rolled
into one. Or like a snowball that's rolled downhill and collected peoples. It's all you can think about now, isn't it? You’re welcome.)
When my twisted and sarcastic co-worker thought that I should share my own twisted and sarcastic sense self with the world and convinced me to start blogging, I never would have dreamed that I’d still be hacking away at the old computer keys after all this time. And honestly, I’ve only gotten more snarky and sarcastic as I’ve gotten older, so this blog has really been a gift to you, single reader. And to you, lumpy collective reader. And to all the non-single and non-lumpy readers as well. From the bottom of my cynical heart and the top of my warped sense of humor, I thank you. Without you, I’d still just be talking to myself. (Well, more often and less wild gesticulating.)
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sudden and inexplicable craving for cake...
Need even more mayhem? Find me
on FaceBook (modernmommayhem)
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the Instagram (@modernmommayhem)
Want to send me a personal
note, a comment, or share one of your funny parenting stories? Let me hear ‘em!
Email me at modernmommayhem@gmail.com
