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Who is more perfect for the job of anthologizing parenthood...the good, the bad and the insane? She has polarized the blogosphere, alternately fielding criticism for pimping out her daughter and inviting the resounding roar of millions of parents saying, "Hell, yeah!" It's Heather Armstrong, the blepitome (blog epitome for those who have not followed me following Julie Powell who coined the word "bleaders" to denote blog readers) of success with dooce. (Like she REALLY needs a link from me!) In Things I Learned About My Dad (in therapy), she gathers together a group of writers, a clique of uber-bloggers, to explore parenting from the patriarchal perspective.
Heather's posse of writers does not fear the criticism and judgment of all those perfect parents who would never dream of yelling, "I SAID STOP THROWING PEAS! DAMMIT!" They express the almost universal first-day-home-from-the-hospital feeling of "I couldn't believe that the hospital let us take a baby home and we don't even have a manual. How could they be so irresponsible?" They are willing to explore the reality that lies beyond the cutesy clothes at the baby shower and the cliche of the Dad not knowing how to hold the baby.
She could have easily gathered a collection of essays that were side-splittingly hilarious...and many of them are. But she tempers the hilarity with some doses of reality and the tenuous nature of some father-child relationships. As one writer describes it, "This cocktail of deep love and rattling frustration defines fatherhood for me." Parenthood is a strange combination of awe at the being you created and preparedness to invoke martial law in your household, with you as commander-in-chief and dictator-for-life. One part Pa Walton, one part Frank Barone and one part The Great Santini!
I think we all know that there is some incredible talent that is finding its voice in the world of blogging. Thanks Heather for finding some of those voices and bringing them to the mainstream.
Di
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