THE ART OF SHARING

Last week, Al Roker informed the world that he had pooped his pants during a previous visit to the White House. My initial reaction to this confession was one of pure horror. Couldn’t Al find something a little less offensive to chat about while promoting his book? Couldn’t he talk about something less vulgar, like maybe the weather?! But upon further reflection, I realized that he should be admired for his audacious overshare. Celebrities are always pretending to be divulging private information by admitting to their secret cravings for potato chips or their fondness for the Real Housewives, but Al Roker’s confession was a bit more jaw-dropping than that. And guess what? By next week, everyone will have moved on to the next story. And maybe the next time someone poops their pants at the White House, they won’t feel so bad.
 

I have a dirty little secret to share with you as well. I happen to hate talking about myself. I know what you’re thinking: starting a blog was a great idea! The truth is, while it hasn’t felt entirely natural to share personal tidbits about my life, it has been a lot of fun. As a new year begins, I’ve been pondering what to write about and what people even care to read about. Should I discuss how I finally started watching Homeland and divulge who I’ve developed a strange crush on? Do you care what foods my children refuse to eat? Should I talk about why I cried on New Year’s Eve? Or how many times have I fallen off the exercise bike since my first spin class?

Personally, I enjoy reading the random things people share in their blogs and on Facebook. I joined Facebook a few months after my first son was born, and for me it was a little bit of a lifesaver. The first couple of months of motherhood can be a lonely time, especially when you’ve only recently moved to the suburbs and feel overwhelmed by the mere notion of trekking to the drug store with an infant in tow, let alone getting out of the house and meeting other new moms. Facebook reconnected me with the outside world and made me feel just a little less alone. It turned out I wasn’t the only one who had been pooped on! (By my infant, not by Al Roker.) I wasn’t the only one who had been awake since 4am! Yes, teething is torture! (And I can only imagine what it’s like for the baby…) The more mundane the posts, the more I rejoiced. Other people were experiencing the same magnificent/terrifying/revolting aspects of parenthood that I was. And it wasn’t just the parenting posts I craved. I loved hearing about friends’ nights out drinking, eating elaborate meals, and viewing movies in actual movie theaters.

I guess I’m hoping that reading about my sometimes humorous and oftentimes ordinary experiences in motherhood might make another new parent feel a little less lonely. As I think about what to write about next, I can promise you that I will never be sharing a story about pooping my pants at the White House (I know what you’re thinking: you would never be invited to the White House!) For now this will have to suffice: Saul and Brody (both disconcerting for different reasons), my older son doesn’t like tomato sauce and my younger one still won’t touch green beans, none of your business, and I haven’t fallen off any stationery bikes lately, thank you very much.