Babies

Confessions of a Baby Blogger

I’m only a baby, eight weeks old on Saturday, but already I am incredibly busy. Here’s just part of my daily rundown:

get up
go to sleep
get up
go to sleep
get up
go to sleep
feed
feed
feed
feed
get up
go to sleep
get up
go to sleep
read NY Times in crib while parents are fitfully dozing. Note to self: Dowd is off her game and Friedman has been writing the same column over and over for years.
get up
go to sleep
get up

You get the idea. I have no time to write this, really. That’s why I need to confess something. I don’t write this blog all by myself. I have a writing staff.

Here’s how it works. At about five o’clock every morning we gather in the writers’ room. I call for a breast milk latte, extra foamy, and we go over the day’s blog prospects. The writers pitch their ideas to me. I approve or turn them down with a series of crisply-issued directives such as: ‘Let’s punch it up, people’ or ‘That might fly if it was funny,’ or ‘We can make that Tuesday’s lead,’ or ‘Change my diaper,’ or ‘Somebody bring me a breast.’

I’m hard on them, but that’s what talent buys you, and you have to push them a little to get results. Maybe they don’t always like it when I scream at them, but hey, I’m not the only famous blogger in the world who shows up at the office without wearing a shirt. Yes, I have an attitude. This is hard, sweaty work. Every paragraph has to end with a punchline. Or else it just lays there. Like this one.

But that’s my head writer’s problem. He’s a recovering television producer, a compulsive bicycle rider with anger management issues. Since he’s the best, I put up with him, long as he delivers. I have a secret crush on my other head writer. I look for approval from her. She is really the one who makes me light up and smile. When something in this blog lands just right and she laughs out loud – it’s all worth it for me. I’m doing this for her. I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of the other staffers’ names. They come in, pitch a few jokes, and leave. We also have a project manager, but he’s just a cat.

I hope this doesn’t blow away any illusions of yours or anything. After all, so many iconic personalities who creatively used monosyllables have had writers: Morris the Cat, the Pillsbury Doughboy, and Ronald Reagan to name a few.

Will you post your comments?  Otherwise, I might cry.

7 thoughts on “Confessions of a Baby Blogger

  1. LOVE the idea of this blog and can appreciate what life has in store for you. I blog at http://www.menafterfifty.com and anytime you’d like to write a guest blog for my readers, I’m sure they would appreciate it. I’m a recent empty nester myself, yet seem to run into 42 year old women that want to start a family. Doing my best to sit with the idea.
    Thanks so much,
    Adam

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  2. Adore this-first reading; I’m a long way from being a baby, but once I was a 4 pound baby. You keep on writing and commenting. You are to au courant. Please do not hurt the cat’s feelings too much. We all have feelings – I suspect even butterflies.

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