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Posted on Mar 4, 2013 | 3 comments

Superwoman in the Digital Age

Superwoman in the Digital Age


I’m a wife. I’m a mother. I’m Superwoman! Well, no, I am decidedly not that. But I am attempting to sculpt this nice little blog out of a mountain of granite, four minutes at a time. Most days, I gleefully chip away at it, while simultaneously performing my more important role as a climbing apparatus.


Here and there, throughout the day, I set the kids up with some engrossing activity and slink off to the office.


If I actually get there before a dirty diaper is flung off by one baby, and loudly announced by the other, I consider it a good sign. I sit down at the computer. Once I finish reading all my reader stats (AKA the MOST addictive thing in the WORLD), I get to work.


Soon, these people decide I could use some help. (So considerate!)


I focus mainly on content: recipes, kids crafts, and random musings about whatever happens to be important that day. The fun stuff!

But the reality is, this isn’t a book; it’s a blog.  As in, Weblog, as in the World Wide Web of Highly Confusing Technical Crap. If you haven’t guessed, tech is not my bag, baby. At ALLLLLL. The fact that you are seeing more than a white screen right now is a testament to the validity of miracles, as well as my massive powers of concentration amidst relentless toddler mayhem (same thing).

Here’s what happens as soon as I begin to work. First, I say hello to my co-workers, who have appeared in the workspace with lightning speed (didn’t I just leave them in the living room)?

IMG_8509 IMG_8500



I pause to enjoy the clear view to my computer screen.



Then, begins the tearing of paper. Why is it so fascinating to tear things? Everything from junk mail, to a prized birthday card, to that very important bill is treated to this practice, sooner or later. Almost immediately, the office floor is in need of an office custodian.



Next, there’s the hourly singing of Good King Wenceslas at top voice. My child doesn’t understand the concept of seasonal music. Or volume.



Finally, there are the desperate pleas for food, books, pens, “Hold me!” and all manner of urgency that was not there before I sat down.



Through it all, I begin to focus. I use my extraordinary powers of concentration to dive deep and try to reach some semblance of understanding of, say, RSS, or SEO, AdSense, or plugins. Most days, I just get fully immersed when I start hearing, from several leagues up, “Mommy, I got an owwwwwwwwieeeeeeeeeeee!!” I must judge the severity of the situation from my position under the surface, while trying to maintain my grasp on the complicated technical instruction I have just encountered, and retain a sense of how I can apply it to my own blog.

Are you impressed yet? There are even pictures attached to this post! Just think of all the child neglect it took to get those up there!




Sometimes, Cute Banker gets home a little early on Saturdays. As I absolutely cannot fathom the world of code without total silence, I take this as my solitary opportunity to delve into it. Code. That is to say, a lot of symbols like this:

a href=”” target=”_blank”><img src=”” alt=”” width=”125″ height=”125″>

As I start to resize and upload and copy and paste and create a new text widget and blah blah blah, I’m almost there, just delete these six quotes, in order, and re-type them, and what the heck is a smart quote anyway, nevermind, I don’t care, just do it! Quickly! I hear footsteps!!…Cute Banker walks in and asks me what I think we should have for dinner. And when.

I lose my place with the quotes. I know instantlly I need to completely start over with the copying, and the pasting, and the blah blah blah.

I tell Cute Banker I’m going to put my head through a wall. He suggests I might want to do it in the garage where the walls are thinner.

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

I manage to recreate my steps, deciding to ignore Cute Banker’s request that I put boots on the baby and a helmet on the preschooler (???) while he calls a restaurant to order dinner in.

Copy, paste, delete, re-type…


Cute Banker: Honey! What’s the difference between ziti and rigatoni?
Me: Ridges.
CB: What was Jerry?
Me: Fusilli.

(If you’re too young to remember that Seinfeld reference, please do not alert me to this fact. I can only take so much).


The children come in and resume their quest to climb me like a wall and sit on my head.

One child starts shouting he’s changing his name to Good King Wenceslas.

It goes on like this for a while.  I see Cute Banker take an adult beverage into the bathroom.

I  keep working.

There’s crying outside. It doesn’t sound urgent. It subsides.

I keep working.

I look up just in time to figure out what that odd shuffling sound is. I see a naked baby pushing a dining room chair past my office door. Well, sure.

Finally, Cute Banker emerges from his “employee lounge” and resumes Kid Duty. Bless that man’s heart, he is my only reason for hope some days.


Then, I overhear this little exchange:

Child, from outside: Daddy, how come you can hear us through the window even though sometimes you can’t?

CB: What?


The amazing thing is that I did it. I somehow copied and pasted and deleted and re-typed this gobbledygook enough times that I found the right combo and it actually worked. I made a blog button! If you have your own website, you probably know that you can copy my code and my blog button will appear on your home page, along with a link back to mine. It’s how we share new, fun sites with our readers. It’s a very courteous thing to do, people!

Next, I am going to try to figure out how to shrink the scary picture. But at least it’s there!! Awkward and freakishly large, but there. In my world, that’s a good day at work. This is almost as exciting as when I finally figured out how to have you guys join me as subscribers!

Gotta go. I hear the baby claiming his brother pushed him, and his brother denying it. It’s also cold and dark now and I don’t think Cute Banker is as concerned with sweatshirts as I am, and, well, someone has to set the table.

Cute Banker yells: “Oh! No, no, no, no, nooooooo! Whoa! HONEY! I need your help, can you come here please?!?!?”

Sure, Sweetie.  No sweat.

I guess I am a Superhero to some people.



  1. The interplay between commentary and pictures often hilarious. Great work!

  2. She makes it sound easier than it is.

    As I read this aloud (the only way to read anything with the kids jumping on me), my wife comes running through the house saying, “Did you call me?”
    Me: No just reading the line from your post, “Oh! No, no,no, no…etc”. 🙂

Thanks for reading. Now, do some writing! Leave a comment!

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