My last guest blogger for my Summer Hiatus week is Debbie from Suburb Sanity. My immediate connection to Debbie is obvious – we both have twins. Of course mine are 15+ years younger than hers, but that’s all the better since it assures me that the toddler years do eventually come to a close. “Yes Virginia, there is an end to potty training.”
Of course she’d also be the first to say, “this is easy – just wait until they’re teenagers…” Thanks Debbie. You’re the best.
If you aren’t familiar with Suburb Sanity, I should mention that she is actually a mother of four, ranging in ages from 12 to 18 (the twins are 18). But she’s so much more than a mommy blogger. Sure – she’ll write about her kids sometimes, but more often than not, she chooses to write about whatever happens to be on her mind at the moment. Such as the ridiculous Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue editorial and her spot on “counterpoint.” Now this is a mommy blogger I can relate to! And aspire to.
Virtually a Nice Person
When I received an email from Kate asking if I would be a guest blogger for her this week, I was immediately honored and thrilled.
Which, the more I thought about it, the odder it seemed.
Allow me to explain.
I have been honored by several bloggers to have been asked to guest post for them. Each and every time I have felt unworthy. I have anguished over the post. I spent much more time thinking about it and laboring over it than I ever do a post on my own blog. If the blogger is popular, I worry no one will read my post. If she is an author, I sweat bullets over my grammar and punctuation. Each time, I feel inadequate and nervous. Yet, I’m thrilled to be asked.
Is there a correlation in my real life, I wondered. No. Absolutely not.
If my phone rang and a friend, even a good friend, said, “Debbie. I need a week off. Will you come over to my house next Wednesday and do what I do all day so my family won’t notice I’m not around?”, I would laugh in her ear and hang up.
How about if someone said to me that a holiday was coming up and she wanted to have some people come over and present different ways they would decorate her house. Might I be willing to do that? Heck no. I don’t even manage to get my own house done.
Or if a friend asked me to fill in for a volunteer job she regularly did so she could go on vacation. Am I a nice enough person to do that? You know I’m not.
If someone called me and told me that a friend of hers had a husband who had been laid off. She knew I didn’t know these people but would I call and leave a message on their answering machine telling them how sorry I was to hear about their misfortune? Would I do that? No. I’d feel weird doing that to someone I didn’t know.
Yet, I spend hours popping all over the internet leaving messages for people I don’t know, thinking up new ideas for them, helping them out.
I’m fascinated by my epiphany. I’m happy to help out a blogging friend I’ve never met in real life. I agonize over whether I will do a worthy job. Will she still like me after I post? Will anyone read it?
Maybe you blogging people need to ask me to come clean your house or help raise your kids. Apparently, I’m a nice person – virtually.