Posted by Kimberly on October 5th, 2007 — Posted in Uncategorized, Kipple, iVillage
Today is a doors and windows kind of day.
The doors, they are closing.
First, iVillage fired me. Ok, not a huge shock there, given what I’ve said about them here. And it really wasn’t that much of a blow. My contract did not allow me to quit, so getting fired was the only way out of my contract, and one that I’ve pretty much been encouraging them to take ever since they made it clear that Sanity and the Solo Mom was going to become part of The Daily Mom with or without my consent. But still, nobody really likes to be fired, no matter how much they were asking for it.
Then, I had a business call. I was pretty nervous because it was my very first business call for a blog idea that I thought of and developed all by myself. A big step in the life of a budding freelancer. On some levels–the ones where I didn’t sound like a blithering idiot–it was a very successful experience. They thought the idea was great, and that it would be a wonderful fit for their company. Unfortunately, they’d just spent a tonne of money on a redesign of their site and just didn’t have it in the budget to take on my idea right now.
So, in addition to getting fired, I didn’t get hired. Yep, that’s the sound of doors closing, alright.
The windows, however, don’t seem to be flinging themselves open quite yet. Maybe I just have to be patient. Man, I hate that.
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Posted by Kimberly on October 3rd, 2007 — Posted in Uncategorized, Kipple, iVillage
One of the basic concepts of blogging is the construction of identity. Every blogger creates one, an online persona that reflects those aspects of themselves that they choose to reveal in the blogosphere. We are all to some extent constructs, and one of the great freedoms of the blogosphere is that we all get to decide on our own pigeonholes, rather than allowing other people to decide who we are and where we belong.
The other basic concept is one of authorship. In the blogosphere, everyone is a writer and everyone has the opportunity to tell their own story. This is why plagiarism is so frowned upon in the blogging community–it’s understood that we all tell our own stories here, not someone else’s. The corollary is that we also understand that we are the ones telling our stories; while the idea of a ghost writer might seem attractive when staring at a blank computer screen with no idea how to fill it, it’s understood that this is not kosher. Guest blogging, by all means. But ghost blogging? Not so much. It’s a violation of the basic agreement, that while the blogger may not be giving you a completely factual account of reality, what she is writing is, at its core, real.
All of this philosophizing is to place in context the very real sense of violation I felt when I realized that iVillage had taken it upon themselves to create an identity for me by rewriting my bio page without my knowledge or consent. I never would have known if Eden hadn’t emailed and asked if I’d suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury.
I didn’t know they were redoing the bios. Nobody asked me for a new one, so I’d just assumed that they’d use the same old one they’ve always had up. To be honest, it’s not like I much cared. But I do care about being misrepresented, which I have been. Grossly. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if they’d written the thing in the third person, but instead they cannibalized just enough of my original blurb to make it seem like I’m the one speaking.
The problem is, whoever tried to impersonate me has clearly never met me, and quite probably has never read Sanity and the Solo Mom. If she had, I’m reasonably certain that ridiculous statements like these wouldn’t have made their way into my About Me:
“Parenting without a partner is quite the adventure and, like other solo adventures, it’s a bit scarier to do alone. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone to share the adventure with, but mostly it’s exciting to hike up the mountain, carrying all your gear, knowing that you did it by yourself.”
“Having no one to share it with, well, it’s a mixed blessing.”
“I say Solo Momming is a fair bit like the regular kind of Momming.”
On some level, each one of these statements flies in the face of who I am, what I believe, how I live my life, and the entire philosophy behind the old Sanity and the Solo Mom, which is clearly even less in line with its host company than I’d always suspected.
For one thing, I’ve never said “Solo Momming is a fair bit like the regular kind of Momming.” I don’t believe that. The entire theme of my blog works against that concept. It’s always been my contention that the “momming” is what we have in common, it’s not what sets us all apart. There’s no such thing as “regular momming;” we’re all moms. Period. Not to mention the fact that as an English teacher I’m not that into random capitalization and I’d never use an inane pseudoword like “momming,”
I’ve also never said “having no one to share it with, well, it’s a mixed blessing.” While I’m gratified that that sentence is at least well written, it’s still a misconstruction of what I said in my very first post for iVillage. Essentially, what I said there was that it’s hard, knowing no one will ever love your kids as much as you do, that there isn’t anyone as invested in those small, seemingly insignificant moments that comprise the fabric of family as you are, but that the flip side of that is the complete control you have over the definition and shape of that family. I never said it was a blessing, mixed or otherwise. It’s not. It simply is what it is.
The worst though is that whole part about “scarier to do it alone” and “would be nicer to have a partner.” That just pisses me the hell off. Anyone who has talked to me about parenting, family, and my life for ten seconds would know that that is not me.
First of all, I find the idea of parenting with a partner both incomprehensible and terrifying. I LIKE being a solo parent, and the shape that gives to my life. Furthermore, since I’ve always parented my children alone, I have no idea if it’s scarier or not. Personally, I think not; the idea of sharing those responsibilities and adding another personality into the complex arrangement of parenthood and family leaves me in a cold sweat.
And for the record, I don’t think “it would be nicer to have a partner.” If I wanted a partner, I’d have one. Unlike my unnamed ghost writer, I feel no need to get my ticket to respectability and to get my ass on the ark. I like living alone. I like being alone. Even on the rare occasions when I do go out on a date, it’s really less about him, and more about me. I’m not looking for mate when I go out with Facebook Guy; I’m looking for an opportunity to go out and enjoy the woman behind the mom. Really, the gender of the companion pales in comparison to the quality of the company so far as I’m concerned. Boyfriend, girl friend, for me, it’s just about an evening out, not about freeing myself from my pathetic state of spinsterhood.
As you can see, the person I am and the persona iVillage has decided to package me as are not exactly in agreement. In fact, I’m not sure I even like that woman. Which is kind of a problem, seeing as how I like me a great deal. Yet another good reason why I have this space of my own, I guess, where I can continue to be me, regardless of the changes iVillage would like to make to my lifestyle and self esteem to make me better fit their construction of what a single mom should be.
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Posted by Kimberly on September 30th, 2007 — Posted in Uncategorized, Kipple, iVillage
I’m not ashamed to admit that I made it all the way through my American Lit course in university without making it all the way through Moby Dick. It’s not that I’m opposed to long books in principle, or even in practise. And I like seafaring tales–Mutiny on the Bounty and Captains Courageous are two of my favourite books. But I just couldn’t do Moby Dick. Maybe it’s that the story of that white whale is so imbued in the threads of our cultural consciousness that everyone knows about Ishamael, Captain Ahab, and the fruits of obsession that I didn’t feel the need to actually discover the tale for myself. Maybe it’s that I’m terrified of whales. Or maybe, it’s just that it’s a long, boring story filled with the digressions characteristic to the time period. Whatever it was, I never did garner a deep appreciation for that particular classic.
Which is not to say that I don’t like Melville.
I may not have been too impressed by his magnum opus, but I loved his shorter works. Particularly Bartelby the Scrivener, the tale of a clerk who would “prefer not.”
Lately at iVillage, I’ve been feeling a lot like Bartleby. Changes are being made, and I sit on my stool, quill in hand, and think “I would prefer not.” Unlike Bartleby’s employer, who develops a sort of grudging respect and sympathy for Bartleby and his passive resistance to the expectations placed upon him, however, I don’t think iVillage would respond too kindly to my preference; their recent change in format seems to bear out this assumption.
Much though I like and admire Bartleby and his stubborn insistence on sitting quietly on his stool, I’ve realized that I don’t choose to mimic his approach to the odious proposition of doing the work I am contracted to do. Not completely, anyway. For one thing, as previously mentioned, I don’t think my employer would be quite as understanding as the unnamed Narrator in Melville’s story. More importantly, while I’m not particularly keen about writing under the current circumstances, assurances that it’s “a good thing” to the contrary, I do like writing.
All of which is a very roundabout way of saying,Welcome to Parenting Without A License, my very own little corner of the internet. I’ll still turn up at iVillage’s The Daily Mom my requisite three times per week, but from now on, I consider this space my true home, where I most certainly do “prefer to.”
I hope you’ll all prefer it too and visit often.
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Posted by Kimberly on June 23rd, 2006 — Posted in Uncategorized, Kipple, Scarlet Letters, iVillage, Sanity and the Solo Mom
I didn’t expect to see the moving van this morning. I’ve known about the move for months, and I knew that today was the day, but even so, seeing the movers busily carrying items out of the house as we walked by on our way to school came as a shock. Suddenly, the reality that there would be no more Thursday playgroup meetings, no more keeping each other company during seemingly endless assemblies and school performances, no more playground playdates, it hit home. Susan is moving. Today.
They say that it takes a village to raise a child, but in this age of far flung relatives, overpacked schedules, and stranger danger, it often feels more like being stranded on a desert island. I’m very lucky in that I do have a village–a wonderful network of family and friends who provide both emotional and practical support. And for the past three years, Susan has been a very important part of my village. She’s one of the best moms I know. And not in the way that makes you feel like a bad mum in comparison. She’s an incredibly grounded woman, and it gives her a patience and empathy as a mother that I often envy. It allows her to communicate her high standards and expectations to her children in ways that make sense to them. However, she also yells at her kids sometimes, and occasionally contemplates her escape plan when the pressures of raising three small children just seem to be too much to bear. Knowing that even the best mums feel like that sometimes did a lot to make me feel better about my own failures as a supermom. In fact, knowing that even the best mums drop the ball sometimes inspires me to stop beating myself up over all those times I’ve failed to measure up, and just get on with the business of doing better.
We met on the first day of Senior Kindergarten. Sabrina was new to the school and after she was ushered inside by the woman I would come to know as the Kindergarten Mussilini, I was left standing alone in a corner of the playground as all the other mommies caught up after the summer apart. Susan came over and introduced herself. I didn’t know then how much I would like Susan or what an important part of my life she would become; I just knew that I was grateful to her for reaching out to me. Over the years she’s been a shoulder to cry on and a friend to laugh with as we work our way through this parenting journey as well as an invaluable support.
Susan is one of those rare people who possess a true generosity of spirit. When Regan was born, she organized a food shower and delivered over a week’s worth of homemade frozen dinners to my home. More than once when there was an unwieldly project to deliver or I was too sick to walk her, she’s picked Sabrina up and driven her to school, even though she lives across the street from it and I live out of area. And she genuinely listens to people when they talk to her. You never get the sense that she’s not truly present in the conversation; you do get the sense that she is honestly interested in you and in what you have to say. I am a better person for having had the gift of her friendship.
We’ve built a strong friendship based on mutual respect and understanding in spite of the fact that we are in some ways very different people. .Susan’s a fairly traditional woman while I’m…not. And she has a calm and soothing presence whereas I tend to be more voluable. It’s helped that for all their differences–she’s a stay-at home mom who’s been married for going on 15 years whereas I, in addition to parenting solo, have been out of the home for either school or work for Sabrina’s entire life–when you scratch the surface our lives have some fundamental similarities: Our older children are the same age and have been “best enemies” since kindergarten–on any given day they are either joined at the hip, or at each other’s throats. We had our last babies the same year–two little girls who would have gone to kindergarten together in a few years.
I knew I was going to miss her, but until I saw that truck this morning I didn’t realize how much I was going to miss her. I feel like my village just got smaller.
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