My So-Called Blog

Newsroom

Newsroom

As a self-professed Luddite, this is surely a red-letter day for me since it is my first time “blogging.” I actually spent a few hours scouring the nether regions of the Internet to see what the Yiddish kup-blogosphere had to say before I began. Frankly, I wasn’t so impressed.

I came across several good-sounding titles that made me pause and think, “Oh, that sounds interesting,” only to find nothing interesting about it other than its title. The rants of strangers aren’t all that exciting — unless they’re funny — and it’s hard to be funny. It’s even harder to write funny.

So, my question is: What makes a blog interesting? Other than this one blog my buddy likes — for no other reason than his unabashed scorn for its author — I have little knowledge of the blogosphere.

(Admission: It’s kinda fun reading that blog since the author is pretty glib and self-effusing; it’s how this buddy and I bond — over a shared disgust — nice, huh?!)

Um … don’t want that for me, thanks! So, let me put this disclaimer out there: I am not the best at what I do; I fail at more things than I don’t and am wrong more often than right (this last one is applicable for everyone but my wife). But I try very hard to do the best I can. Sometimes I hit, other times I miss.

Speaking of my wife, she suggested I blog about how I (apparently) have some favorite go-to words that litter my conversations. She then graciously laundry-listed some for me, including “frankly,” “mutually exclusive,” (the ever popular) “Really?!” “Are you kidding
me?” “truthfully” (as if I were lying previously) — and a few expletives that are better left unprinted.

Really?!

I guess, in terms of relevance to me, my world consist of two poles: work and family. To speak on anything else with credibility would require some reporting, which falls into the first category. To speak on the latter requires me to assume anyone outside of my family cares enough to read on.

But, before you go, know that I have become quite adept at integrating those two poles — getting as much accomplished for work while, at the same time, struggling to get my kids off to school, the dinner made — and trying to spend more than five minutes of quality time with my spouse.

Because of this job’s inherently flexible nature, I have fewer constraints on me than my wife does — at least in required “face time” at the office. She, who henceforth shall be upgraded from a pronoun to “Amy,” is an attorney at a mid-sized firm in Bloomfield Hills, Mich.

Amy works very hard, often dealing with complex real estate disputes; she also is relatively well-compensated for her hard work. But, with that compensation comes the noted Sword of Damocles (billable hours) that hangs over any attorney’s head. Plus, as a litigator, she spends a decent amount of time in court.

I, on the other hand, can write and edit articles nearly anywhere, at any time — although often it’s after I’m “off the clock” — or, in real terms, when the kids are in bed. Thus, the versatility I enjoy also ensures our kids always have at least one (if not both) of us around.

Of course, it’s a luxury that comes at a price. Those costs include lack of sleep, an eight-hour stretch of uninterrupted work and guilt-free downtime. I know I am not alone. Most families are two-income families nowadays. And I have it better than most — I have a boss who trusts me to get my work done without micromanaging my time.

So, how do I do it? I wing it a lot of the time. I also have a wonderful extended family, including my mom, mother-in-law and sister-in-law who all generously help pick up the slack I inevitably let slip. It’s tough, and it’ll get worse before it will get better (my kids are ages 2, 4 and 6).

But, that’s the beauty of these blog things, right? I can share my tips for making it through and you can respond, if you think I’ve said anything that’s worth the trouble. Speaking of trouble, you’ll love to hear the adventures of my middle one, Joely, the 4-year-old.

She’s as cute as a button but, oh boy, she is trouble, with a capital “T,” which rhymes with “P,” which stands for “poop!” Yep, I hear ya … Really?!

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