Four years ago yesterday, I started writing this blog.
I didn't know much about food blogging back then. I hadn't heard of Julie Powell or blog-to-book deals. I didn't think my blog would ever make me a dime or that anyone would recognize me in the supermarket and say, "Hey, aren't you that blogger lady?" I had only read a couple of food blogs anyway. If a lot of people were writing them, I certainly hadn't read them.
I had a 1 1/2 year old and 6 month old and a family that could no longer go into a restaurant without upending tables, littering the floor with mashed up little pieces of bread, screaming, demanding boob, and causing either David or I to take one or the other child out for a soothing walk on the sidewalk. We barely ever had time to finish a glass of wine, much less a meal, before something screechy and unpleasant happened that forced us to drop our forks and rush a child to the bathroom.
It wasn't worth it. If I didn't become a sensational cook, we might never eat good food again.
So, I started writing about it here. David thought up the name "The Yummy Mummy". It was cute back then. Get it... it's about the food, not how hot I am. And that was part of the joke. With two small kids I was the opposite of a "Yummy Mummy", one of those high heel-wearing, brunching with the girls, perfect hair, totally clean mommies with lots of hired help and the ability to whip up a perfect scone while making it all look breathless and easy (I'll leave all that perfection to this Yummy Mummy). I was the complete opposite. I was constantly leaking milk out of my breasts, rarely showered, left the house on numerous occasions without brushing my teeth, and had roots like a strip of asphalt across the top of my head. I was lucky to even get food on the table, much less have it taste good, or look appetizing in the eye of my instamatic camera.
I remember catching a glimpse of myself in a Starbucks window once. This strange woman carrying a baby in a pouch who was removing my shirt to get at my breast, pushing a howling toddler in a stroller, with a gigantic bulging diaper bag, big, bungly grocery bags hanging off the handles, a large caffeinated beverage in the cup holder, hair in a scrunchy, not a stitch of make-up, stained yoga pants and a completely unmissable muffin top. I didn't recognize myself. For two whole seconds I had no idea who she was. Then I saw.
That's what I wrote about. Food, cooking, my attempts at entertaining, learning new skills, the many dinners gone a mock that ended up in the trash can, all the crazy, de-glamorized shit that happens in the kitchen when no one else is there, the real stuff, the gory details, and the things that come with feeding kids and a carb-phobic husband. And that woman. I wrote about getting to know this woman in the Starbucks mirror. That was "The Yummy Mummy".
But things have changed. I'm not that woman, anymore than I am the woman before her, the one before kids. I am freshly showered, at a relatively decent weight, six years older and wiser, writing about kids but more than kids, looking to not just ghostwrite other people's books, and hide behind other people, but write my own, with my own name on the spine, be out front and center for all the world to see, write serious pieces (or seriously funny pieces) for talented people. Coming out the other side, I have things to say.
And that's why the name of this blog doesn't quite fit anymore. Maybe it's because I realize - just now realize - that there will be no more babies for us, that I'm too old, that this part of my life as a young mother is behind me, that I don't really feel like "The Yummy Mummy" anymore. In fact, I cringe when people say it. What was once funny and ironic, now feels weird and uncomfortable. Whether it makes me happy or sad - and truth be told, it makes me both - I'm not that woman in the Starbucks window. I'm not the woman surrounded by tiny, clamoring egomaniacs anymore. I am not the woman who can't get dinner on the table because the kids are hitting each other over the heads with ladles.
My children are old enough to pour Mommy a glass of wine. I need to make a change.
So, I'm going to still write here, (Of course. How could I leave all of you?) but I'm going to change the name and look (and maybe even the feel) of this blog. If you have suggestions, please tell me. I have no idea what I'm going to do. David suggested I discuss it with you, get your take. Many of you have been with me from the beginning. You know me. You really do. I'll take all your suggestions to heart.
What should I call this blog? Should it just be my own name? Something cheeky? or something more serious? Seriously, I could use your advice...What do you think?
And thanks, for being around through all these incarnations. That feels pretty damned nice.