How You Know I’m Not a Mormon Mommy Blogger

A few years ago, my dear friend Susannah and I discovered that we had a shared secret.

While talking late one night about writing (she’s a fabulous novelist, I’m a… whatever-I-am), the need for research, and the beauty of the Internet, we confessed to each other that we both have an abiding addiction to Mormon Mommy Blogs.

No, neither of us actually are Mormon. Susannah isn’t even a mommy.

At the time, I thought we’d both wandered into some secret corner of the inter web – kinda like finding yourself in a panic room at a frat party with your best friend.

Years later, after being in the blogosphere a while, I realize that Mormon Mommy Blogs are about the furthest thing from an Internet secret there could be. They even have a cute name for it: The Bloggernacle. (A play on blogosphere and tabernacle – get it?)

So, just in case you were wondering, this is how you can tell that I am NOT a Mormon Mommy Blogger:

This is what a mother/child photo looks like on a Mormon Mommy Blog:

www.lovetaza.com

Look how cute everyone looks! She’s wearing saddle shoes. And and an orange blazer – who thinks of that? And her body? Did she grow those children in a peat pot? Jealous. And that little boy? He’s wearing a HELMET. To ride a scooter.

Now, for comparison, here’s a standard mother/child photo you might find on MY blog.

Yes. I was hungover. And I am wearing pajamas even though it’s 1pm. I call this shot, The Morning After the Wake Before. Taza, up there, calls her’s Let’s Go to the Matinee. Clearly a more respectable title. And a better way to spend a morning with a preschooler.

For our next exhibit I present a Mormon Mommy’s nursery room:

www.lovetaza.com

How sunny and bright it is! So many age appropriate toys, well organized and ready for creative play. And this woman lives in a NYC apartment. 

Now, for a picture of our “nursery,” ahem, Sudanese orphanage with strangely pale children:

Or perhaps a more recent shot, since the girls now have no containment big girl beds:

Don’t ask. It was a rough morning. They always sometimes are.

How about the post from www.therhouse.com on the foolproof way to have a perfect mother’s day every year? She suggests to “stop thinking about yourself,” and even gives her own children treats on Mother’s Day.

www.therhouse.com

It’s beautiful. I mean it. Unfortunately, after I listened to my children complain for the previous twenty-four hours about “Why isn’t there a children’s day??” And answered a million times, “Hello, everyday is children’s day,” I’m more likely to post something like this:

THAT is definitely not a Facebook post from a Mormon mommy.

I’m not poking fun at Mormonism. Quite the opposite.

Every Mormon I’ve ever met has elicited a certain ration of jealousy from me. They are so happy. And so good. And so well dressed.  In fact, my whole family had a brief emotional affair with The Latter Day Saints after seeing The Book of Mormon. (You gotta hand it to them, missionaries were on hand while we waited in line at the “Will Call” station for tickets to a musical about their religion written by the South Park guys.  The LDS church even advertised in the Playbill saying, “You’ve seen the musical, but you know the Book is always better.” Talk about a sense of humor.) I just couldn’t get my rational mind on board. First of all, we’d have to leave our church, who love us no matter how screwed up we are. Besides, I can’t really buy into the Virgin Birth, so I’d have a hell of a time with Israelites who paddled to America. The no alcohol rule would certainly do me good, but what do you do about no coffee? Are there special AA groups for new Mormons where they serve ginger ale?

I’d be excommunicated in a month.

So I guess I’ll have to make do secretly stalking Mormon Mommy blogs, fantasizing about a life where my children are always well groomed, my house is well decorated, and I wear a size 4 even after having five kids.

Meanwhile, I’ll be here blogging about life for the rest of us – those wine-and-coffee-drinkers-with-no-hope-of-getting-our-own-planet-and-making-it-anyway folks.

I’m glad you’re with me.