I've gotten a lot of really supportive comments on that last post, and on others like it. I've gotten a handful of emails from you guys sharing what were your less-than-stellar mommy moments and I've shared some things with the senders of those emails that I don't feel comfortable sharing here. Because, believe it or not, this blog is edited. I spoke with a few of you, who told me that I must be so confident and secure to be able to put stuff like that out in the world.

The answer to that last sentence is "absolutely not". I'm not confident about much of anything, really. I check and double check and read and reread everything to make sure that I'm on top of things and doing the best I can be, but I'm still not overly confident. And secure? Ha! I'm terrible. I know that is a shock to most of you. If my colleagues read this they would be appalled because they think I have it totally together about everything in life. My family probably used to, but I know they check in from time to time and now they know my secret. My friends know I'm a well put together mess. The proverbial shoes are polished, but there is a tiny hole in the bottom.

But, I am confident and secure that there is a ginormous lack of honesty and openness about the way that moms, and women, really feel, and what they really do, and what really goes on once the cameras are off and blogger is closed and the curtains are drawn.

Many mommyblogs make motherhood seem amazing and beautiful and simple and wonderful all the time. They are day-to-day accounts of the good things, the worst that is listed is a potty accident or a temper tantrum or a bit of teething drool. The photos are fantastic, the daytrips are fun and educational and the kids seem shiny and happy and good. Shinyhappygood babies make shinyhappygood mommies. Everyone is so shiny and happy and good. It's so effing adorable that we can all hardly stand it and I can't get enough of reading them because they are a great reminder of what we should be appreciating between the recession and the bickering and the cramps and the shut off notices and the laundry and the gas bills and the transmission fluid dripping under the car and the evening news.

Many mommyblogs make many mommies feel like total shit. I know this because I talk to a lot mommies about stuff that they don't have a chance to talk about with anyone else so they turn to blogs and find a lot of the same rainbows they find in real life interactions- when they find time for real life interactions. I can read your blog when I'm up at 3am but I can't call anyone. It is easier to build a virtual network than it is a real one. I get emails and phone calls from the mommies who have the picket fence blogs and read the picket fence blogs, thanking me for making them feel normal about things and telling me that they wish that they could be honest and open about every part of their day, but they don't want to worry their own mothers, or their husbands, or their friends, or their readers. They don't want to look like bad mommies. They don't want to look like bad people.

To that I say "bah". We need to stop hiding behind the manicured lawns and good silverware and soccer/ballet/karate schedules. We need to start banding together and come up with a few solutions to our problems. We have to stop making each other feel like motherhood is a competition. She with the best car and glitteriest ring and cutest kids and tiniest waist wins. We are all winning, even in the worst situations. If there is at least one moment in your day when you can sit, and breathe, and love you are winning. Even if the walls are crumbling around you, you are winning.

It breaks my heart to watch a friend sob because she can't tell her mother or her husband how she feels. It breaks my heart when I sob because I feel all alone. We all feel like we all do. We are all tired, we are stressed, we want a break, we want to scream, we want to spend every second with our families but we want to spend every second by ourselves. We want more fine china and less plastic in our dishracks. We want to look like we have never had children, we want to be seen as experienced parents. We want a few more dollars for ourselves but we want our children to have nice things. We want to stay at home with the babies while building a name for ourselves in the field we studied for four, six, or eight years to excel in. We want a damn drink and a bra that doesn't open like a mailbox but we want to nurse. We want to formula feed but we don't want to be judged. We want to meet new people, eat new foods, go new places, try new things, and bring all of our old friends along. We love our children so much that it breaks our hearts. Every single one of us. It's hard to juggle life and love and selfishness and selflessness and why aren't we talking about it when we aren't behind closed doors? Why is it a secret? Why are we prefacing everything we are whispering about with "boy, they sure don't tell you this in the books but...".

I work with the worst of the worst parents. Parents that curse and hit and kick and steal and hate and do things to their children that you've never even imagined. Those people. Those people still love their children. There are still moments when they break down and they cry into their children's necks because it is all so damn hard and the only thing real is the love they feel for their babies and they know they are doing wrong. They are the bad parents and they want to get better but don't know how. They don't know what normal is, what acceptable is, what people like us do. But they still have those moments that they are sitting, and breathing, and loving, and wanting to be good and they can. With help. And they do. With support. Whether they ask for it or they are forced into it they get it. And when they do, they talk to one another. They sit in a room and they pour out their hearts and let other people- other parents help them make sense of it all and they turn to someone who knows what they are talking about to make sure they are getting the right answers. Their children are in the next room over, getting the help they need from therapists and teachers and other children. If they can do it why can't we? They have social services set up for them because they can't do it alone. We, people like you and me, have so much knowledge and so many resources that we should be able to do it without any effort, but we don't because we are embarrassed and proud and ashamed. Of what? Of admitting that we are just like everyone else but not better than everyone else?

I started this blog when I was about four or five months pregnant to keep people I knew in the loop about what was going on. By the time I was in my third trimester, I had lost several readers because there was "just TMI" or "things I should only be bringing up with the doctor" or "things ladies just don't talk about". But for every one I knew that stopped reading, I had two readers who were perfect strangers, who were thanking me for making them feel like they weren't the only one crying their eyes out if they forgot their daily PBJ (sorry for the underwear pic in that link) or that they were the only person in the whole world who's baby was lactating better than she was (I'm not done transferring posts from my old url to this one, but Jake had lots of breastmilk when he was a newborn that would leak out. It was creepy).

If you know me in real life (I think there are four of you that do) you know that I love to talk about things that are off color and taboo and weird and make jokes about them and you also know that I will suck you right in to the madness and pretty soon the convo will turn from me asking an awkward question (like: do you hold your breath when you poop? or: how far do you let your finger go up your nose? and sometimes easy ones like: do you drink the crumbs out of the bottom of a chip bag and lick the cardboard in a twinkie pack? my answers are yes, past the first knuckle in my left nosehole and right before it in my right, yes if I'm in the privacy of my own home, and i scrape it off with my finger and eat it before i eat the cakes) and turn into you going on and on about something totally unrelated and way more outlandish. I'm good for getting you to talk about what you don't really feel comfortable talking about. That's why they pay me the big (read: $4/hr) tax dollar bucks to do what I do. I can get anyone to talk about just about anything. And that's what I aim to do here. Get you talking (typing) and get you thinking and get you knowing that you are a normal person. I hope it is working for at least a few of you. I hope the rest of you are enjoying the trainwreck.

Okay, only puppies and strawberries for a little while after this. My blog is really starting to get me down and I'm actually in a very good place these days. Surprising, seeing that it is 9 effing below all the time and I'm stuck in the house. But I just had to let you know that we have to stop pissing on each other and start pissing with each other.

Or something.