Welcome to Laurel Land: Population 0000001

"Welcome to Laurel Land: Population 0000001"... For years this was the screensaver that scrolled across my PC monitor prior to the inevitable upgrading to our Mac. In college, people used to comment on it time and time again telling me how “funny and creative” it was. Others used to tell me how much they enjoyed reading my away messages that were posted while I was instant messaging. Now that I have an opportunity to blog about my life-- well, one might see how appropriate the idea of “Laurel Land” is "umpteen" years later. In fact, I find it more appropriate than ever to have that title on my computer screen as I attempt to join the millions of other mommies around the world “blogging”. Cyber-peer pressure: It’s a bitch.

I have contemplated on starting a blog for quite some time now. It originally appealed to me because I have always expressed myself through the process of writing. I have volumes of poetry written in old notebooks and on the backs of the occasional flier from a Val-Pack mailing stashed within the depths of my closets and dresser drawers. I even started a memoir in my late-teens with the secret aspiration to have it published one day (Essentially, it was by another author under the title “Prozac Nation”…). Quite frankly, I have no idea if anyone will ever even read these entries in my “virtual diary”. But after realizing that Facebook status postings are sometimes the only contact that I have with the outside world, this blog spot may become my cyber getaway to vent and express myself outside the confines of my life in suburbia. Don’t get me wrong-- I love my family, my house, my pets, and even my 4-door sedan, but every mother out there knows that she needs to identify herself—define herself—with terms other than “wife”, “mom”, and “homemaker”.

I felt that social muzzle being placed on me as soon as I became pregnant. Although people were quick to express their excitement and congratulations to me (which was greatly loved and appreciated), any and all conversation that soon followed for nine months ALWAYS consisted of “baby/motherhood” talk. How big was the baby getting? How was I feeling even though I looked and felt like a beached whale? What was the timetable of my maternity leave? Instead of being “Laurel”, I felt like I became “The Uterus”. Then, when my beautiful Caiden was born, I emerged from my preggers cocoon as “Caid’s mom”. It truly felt like everyone’s’ perception of who I truly was became erased as soon as two blue lines appeared on an EPT stick.

Perhaps, although only voicing it silently on a computer screen, I can scream, “I am an individual, damnit! Just because I entered the realm of motherhood doesn’t mean that I have depleted my stock of personal interests! I want to talk about things other than my baby’s milestones, sleeping patterns, and bowel movements! I am a Red Sox fan! I am a glutton for anything covered in cheese. I live off of a TV-diet consisting of the phrase “That’s what she said”, bad (but very addicting) reality series, and Law & Order ABCD in NYC. I have no fashion sense, but posses a shoe wardrobe that would make a Kardashian jealous. I actually enjoy spending time in the gym (obviously to work off the cheese-covered food that I have inevitably eaten). I love photography. I know and (use daily) multisyllabic words. I yearn to travel. And just because I have a scar across my lower abdomen doesn’t mean that I am not as sweet, sassy, sarcastic and sexy as ever!”

Thus, the creation of this blog. So welcome to Laurel Land: Population 0000001. Join me if you so desire, but enter at your own risk…