…Um, because they never ask me. I know.
It’s true no one from companies like Hallmark, Nabisco, Pepperidge Farms, Graco, Sony, Johnson & Johnson, Kimberly-Clark or even Sephora (I wish, oh how I wish!) has ever asked me to be whisked away by commuter flight to somewhere other than the Central Valley, Cali to be then picked up by an airport shuttle, or even better, a limo where I am then transported to a well-appointed hotel room with a lovely gift basket full of treats and goodies. I haven’t had the pleasure of touring their factories or sitting in on a focus group where we spend the afternoon gushing about their product while enjoying the catered lunch they are providing.You don’t see me driving the latest and greatest hybrid mom-car shuttling my circus act everywhere for a week and blogging about how wonderful the car is or taking the latest family-fun video game system for a test run under my Big Top.
I know I sound like I am whining a little and maybe I am but the fact of the matter is I don’t get asked. Of course now we are in a recession. Companies everywhere are tightening their belts which tightens up the amount of money they can spend schmoozing mommy-bloggers. They have to be a bit more selective in who they recruit. Sometimes they can’t include even some of the cream of the mommy-blogging crop much less the rest of us. Of course I still whine a little. What person among us wouldn’t mind an all-expense paid weekend of R & R just to learn a little bit more about a product and then write about it in all of its awesome glory? I know I would jump at it.
But then again, maybe not. Maybe I wouldn’t jump at it.
Believe it or not, I am a shy person. It’s hard for me to walk up and engage myself with people I don’t know. I morph back into the awkward, pimply-faced, badly dressed teenager with coke bottle glasses that I was. I imagine in my mind that other people will look me up and down with obvious distaste written all over their faces as they turn to one another and ask each other, “Why is she here? Why is she even talking to us?”. But then when I read other mom bloggers account their experiences at mommy blogging get-togethers, summits and symposiums I find that I am not the only one who thinks like that. Some of the most gregarious of mom bloggers out there confess that they stress about others misinterpretting their shyness for aloofness or snobby behavior.
It is misunderstandings like that though that scare me away. I swear every mom-blogging event also involves the aftermath of misunderstandings which bring out the meanest of Mean Girls high school type behavior in the nicest of mom bloggers out there. Of course sides are taken up and pretty soon there is yet another ruckus in the mommy blogging hen house where insults are hurled, mean-spirited things are left in comments and tweets whether we were there or not. I admit I have joined in, albeit briefly, with the latest “boob-ha-ha”. I left a comment on the blog of one of the parties involved in the latest mommy blogging event drama and, well, I shouldn’t have. I should have kept my nose, fat ass and opinions out of something I had no clue about…even if I adore the blogs of the parties involved.
Perhaps someday, if I can ever afford it or be blessed to have a corporate sponsorship (not bloody likely), I can join some of my favorite writers out there at Mommy-blogging type events where we can hug, kiss, schmooze, network, learn, enjoy cheeseburgers and par-tay…if only I could somehow avoid all the dramatic aftermath. I have enough mommy drama in real life to deal with from the PTA moms, dance moms, cheer moms and the yard duty at my kids’ school. I’d bet that everyone who attends such blogging events might feel the same way.
For now though, I will focus on good things, things that have nothing to do with goldfish, breastfeeding or all the other ilk that has resulted. I’m going to put my feet up now and just enjoy these amazing red boots I received from my darling (today) husband and kids for my birthday this past Sunday.
They are pretty damn spectacular if I do say so myself.