And we're convinced men have selective hearing?

And we're convinced men have selective hearing?

Here it comes. The opposition. From the mouth of a mommy. Gasp. Shriek. Terror!

I, after reading the article, we all know which one that's been rustling our feathers and getting the panties all up in a wad, don't see what all the big fuss is about. I understand where the misconception that The Bash was intended has stemmed from, but for the most part think everyone is doing what we all get pissed at our other halves for: Hearing what they want to hear.

So this may not be as simple as, "HELLO I TOLD YOU THREE TIMES I'M HAVING THE GIRL'S OVER FOR A JEWELRY PARTY TODAY!", but the principle is precisely the same.

The title. Offensive...but only out of context.

The mocking tone about the subject matter of the fabulous Bloggy Bootcamp not being about hiding veggies in the kids food. Offensive...again only out of context.

After reading and reading and reading and reading the article both to myself and to willing audiences (okay, on a road trip for a week long girl's trip is probably not willing as much as frustratingly forceful) I cannot seem to wrap my head around how the bulk of that article is a reflection and expression of the hurdles being overcome in this new realm of community between mothers and women alike. That in a time where knowing your neighbors (let alone their names) is not a common reality, we're building "the village" among women with similar and often different interests, but essentially the same. Damn. Needs. And that some of them, with their talents are being offered jobs, products, and brand representation. Oh snap! (and also, bless their hearts)

Exactly how I took that article. The author didn't attend the conference, network with amazingly influential women, connect on a mass of differing levels just to bash the efforts, the unity, the power force behind what we're all doing as writers and mothers. She did it to bring attention to it. TO THEM. The ones she willingly mentions, by name, and direct blog url, driving excessive amounts of relatively unique traffic to what some curious minds may not have ever ventured to explore. A positive thing.

This may get me castrated from the "mommy blogging" community (hell, I haven't felt considered in the slightest as a mommy blogger still since I occasionally talk about having pretend, creative advertisement sex with strange people willing to fork out their money perhaps insinuating that I have a between-the-legs-dangler). Damned if I'll sit by and feel like less of a woman, writer, or mother for that matter because so-and-so disagrees with THAT article. For once, I'm hopping in the side car of the bandwagon. Maintaining my geeky, awkward, "so cute and young" outsider status to voice my honest opinion on all the bullshit hullabaloo. I pulled out the shit guns ladies and gentleman. Pardon the fan, this could get messy.

Every refute I've read so far has focused on the two things that *could be* considered offensive if taken completely out of context. The title. The subject matter.

Move on. No one is begging you to prove yourself.

I've always lived by the notion that if you're so deeply offended you have to parade your offense for the world to see (or in this case read), guilt is the driving force behind it. Whenever I've felt offended by anything it's because I recognize the truth of the statement in reference to my words or actions. It appears as though some out there, based the level of frantically, passionate and prompt refute, maybe, just maybe, sorta kinda feel like they should be doing it differently. Maybe?

Tuck. Roll. Diving head first. Off. My. Soapbox.

Natalie Portman said is best in Garden State, "Sidecars are for bitches."

I'm a bitch.

You're welcome.