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Heather Armstrong of Dooce has made a fortune off her mommy blog. She's been able to buy a gazillion dollar mansion in Utah. Her husband was able to quit his day job and run her site full time, earning her more cash.

I say good for her. She found a niche with her flawless writing and spot-on takes on motherhood.

The one thing that drives me batty about her site, however, is how she half hides a photo, forcing readers to click on it to see the full picture. I am guessing that with each click comes added traffic which means added cha ching. (If I'm wrong, and Heather is reading, please let me know. It would help if you clicked on one of my Google ads while you're at it so I could make an additional 2 cents. The photo of the man's booty on top was taken by Stink in Vegas last year and is provided free of service for all to enjoy.)

Again, hooray for her to consistently get voyeurs like moi to pay her mortgage (or fly out her cousins to her grandmother's funeral.... she is always very gracious to her readers) but... BUT... the clicks. So... annoying.

Rather than complain anymore, however, I've decided to follow suit. Only I'm taking it a step further. Instead of clicking on my website pictures, I'm going to have Rex, my computer guru, install a human click in my actual body. I will be in real time, which means instant gratification for Dooce whores (such as myself) and all humanity.

If you were here right now, you could click on my belly. Voila: Gluten free spaghetti would waft out!

Click on my breasts and here the sound effects: TIRED.... SAGGING... TWO KIDS, BAD SPORTS BRA.

Click on my booty and hear: FAT ASS - GET OFF THE COMPUTER AND JOG.

And so I shall.

Right after I click on my coffee pot. Nothing says running in real time like a Yuban high.

Happy Monday all!
 
 
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...This pic must have a story but I have no clue what it is. A friend took it at my son's kindergarten graduation last year and just emailed it to me.

Here are a few thoughts off the top of my head:

1. What? You just won a life time's supply of Yuban? No waaaay!

2. Yes, this is a horrible haircut. Hey, you had the bad Betty Paige, too?

3. Stink, stop licking the ABC floor mat!

4. What do you mean my kids are old enough to attend full day grade school?

5. I write a sex column? For real?

6. I'm going to become friends with Christian homeschoolers, my ex-gay boyfriend, and my entire graduating highschool class through the internet and Facebook.

7. Wow, purchasing a cabin costs how much in incidental blankets, quilts, pillows, heater filters, paint, silicone, roof tar, pool tables, moving companies and vintage embroidered snow scenes bought on sale for $15.00 at Out of the Closet? (That last item? Totally incidental. Like my ex-boyfriend, I just love the stuff I find Out of the Closet.)

8. I haven't posted in how many days?

9. It's what time right now?

10. Rex wants what tonight?

If anyone else would like to add to the list, feel free.

Meanwhile, I owe many of your sites a look-see. I hope all of you are well. If you don't hear from me, it's just I'm working three jobs to pay for my cabin, as well as therapy for my children who have been avoided for a whole year while I pay off my Discover Card and get a better hair-do.
 
 
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I'm loving my spiritual journey. It's busting my balls and forcing me to deal with emotions I'd much rather set aside in a cute little box in the attic next to the Christmas lights and one-armed scarecrow (don't ask how that happened) but... in the process of trying to "let go" of things that don't matter, I somehow forgot to keep in some things that do matter. Like...

1. Good hair. What the hell is up with my two toned rat's nest of Pippi Longstocking string number crossed with some bad 80's hesher punk band mixed with someone on crack from Super cuts clipping it with a hedge trimmer?

2. My camera. I don't have one. I'm sick of writing posts without coresponding photos. Where are my kids' asses hanging out of the back of the SUV? Where are the shots of their purple and orange Halloween tree in their room, replete with handmade decorations that look like they were drunk on Vodka Capri Sun while cutting them out?

3. My skin: I have the acne of a teenager - most likely from stressing from no camera and bad hair. I'm also mighty ticked off at the movie vans that keep lining my street but never use my house. What, is my driveway not good enough for your craft service you flippin' Hollywood elitist director? If you don't want to use it, then STOP RINGING MY DOORBELL AND TAKING PHOTOS OF MY LIVING ROOM! (I swear, there must be ten shots of my messy dining table with Stink's crooked grin trying to make it's way into the picture. Not my camera of course... I don't have one. Some director's camera who never uses my house!!!!!)

4. A job I really dig. I love writng for Good Housekeeping, but I miss real live human beings. I don't care if it's not as "motherly" as I'd like in my ideal world of what it means to raise centered kids. I've done a good job with them. They're happy. They're content. And while they're at school, I want to have fun also!  I want to be on a studio set with craft service and crazy gay actors and bitchy directors and bipolar make-up artists and all the fabulous personalites that make this life so fun.

And at the end of the day, i want to come home to my quite Rex who kisses me goodbye as I head off to church on Sunday and thank God for this dynamic life that I lead.

Becuase while, yes, I am in need of God to fill a void in my life, I can also say that God probably wants me to do what I need to do to make ME happy. And it's pretty simple: GET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE! This mama is going back to Hollywood!

I'll keep you posted.

* Photo of my kids having a good time in the tub - taken about 3 months ago when I had a camera. I posted it for proof that once, a long time ago... before Mommy abandoned them for show biz, they were indeed frolicking, lively, clean children.
 
 
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I'm just going to spit it out. I miss BabyCenter. I'm pretty upset that, after 2 years there, I was let go. I don't believe it was about the numbers. I know that I got a lot of hits. It was because I wasn't afraid to lay it on the line and take hits. I believe I connected with readers. I felt that my strength was writing with honesty and humor about my kids. To not even get emails back from editors over there - well - it is disappointing.

I have found myself so many times in the past six months thinking, "Wow, that is a total BabyCenter article" but then I have to remember, "No, I don't write for them anymore." I'm irritated at myself at how much of my validation as a person came from those articles. I felt like I made a difference.

I am not sure what my path is now. I know this is simply a time of transition for me. Like Daria who is about to embark on a new journey, it's my time to find myself. My kids are in school full time. What does this mean for my career? Where will I land?

I don't know about my future jobs (though I've been pitching quite a bit.) I don't know about what it will be like to be 40 - it's coming up fast. But one thing I am really really proud of, even with all my self-degration and perfectionistic "let's fix it" personality, is that I have happy kids. They love each other. They laugh like crazy. They dance and are silly and will play prince and princess as well as run naked through the mud. They are kind, gentle, enthusiastic souls. They wave to strangers, pray for bad people and giggle with abandon. I want to be them when I grow up.

In closing, with utmost respect for the organization that is Johnson and Johnson, BabyCenter can kiss my ass. I don't need no stinking column to know how fabulous I've got it with Stink and Pip.

* Photo of Stink right after he told his Cinderella, "Wait! I don't even know your name!" and passed back the slipper.

 
 
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Stink just lost his first tooth. Unlike how I face changes ("Nooo... this is awful... terrible... why can't it all stay exactly the same as it was TANTRUM TANTRUM HEAD BONK KICK dear Goooddddddddd noooooooooooooooooo") he couldn't be more overjoyed at the departure. For him it means new beginnings... a fresh start... and a $29.99 swimming/walking puppy from  the Tooth Fairy. (Sadly, that winged bitch could NOT find Stink's choice at a Salvation Army. "Oh no... this is terrible... why can't it all..." Oh wait... changing my thinking. Moving on.)

Like Stink's transition, I'm ready to start fresh in my brain. I've been licking my wounds regarding personal losses for too long - from people who are no longer here, to ideals that no longer work with where I'm at in my life now.

This doesn't have to be so tragic! There's many exciting things that can grow with new beginnings. Like Stink's little gap, there's roots underneath - they simply need some loving care and some time.

Any of you out there want to grow something new - writing course perhaps? I'm offering my "How to Get Paid to Write" class again. I normally charge $149 but will charge faithful readers only $119. You'll learn a ton - promise.

Meanwhile, take care of yourselves. Don't forget to brush. Don't forget to floss. And remember - losses one day, growth the next.