This week I’ve stumbled across a few different conversations about raising large families–two of them in relation to Katie Allison Granju’s Babble.com essay about why she wants a big family (both at Babble and also in the comments section on her blog post about it), and one in a discussion about the Ionce family with 18 children over at the Womb Within blog.

Now, as somebody who’s written a book on raising larger families, you might think I just love debating the topic. But I often regret getting involved in these conversations, where the assumption often seems to be that large families automatically become a drain on the system and (of course) that parents of many and their children are miserable, attention-starved people. Inevitably, somewhere along the line, somebody makes an assumption like this based on: a family they once knew. A TV show they watched a few times. The complaints they heard from an adult who grew up in a big family. Their income taxes, which they feel are too high and imagine are all the fault of poor, uneducated people having too many babies.

Now, I don’t mind anyone’s having or expressing an opinion–I’ve got plenty of them, and I don’t always have solid research to back them up–but what always amuses and amazes me is how vehemently some people will argue against something that they themselves have no direct experience with.

The only real fact-driven, legitimate arguments I’ve seen coming out of these debates center around environmental issues. I don’t agree that the small number of American families who choose to have bigger families is a threat (fertility levels in the US hover right around replacement rates; we really do have enough resources for everyone if our culture–big and small families alike–would take some steps to quit wasting them; overpopulation in other countries has little to do with how many children Americans have; and wait a sec, how come I never see anyone criticizing dog breeders?), but even though I don’t agree, I can still understand the argument. What I can’t understand is passionate, disgust-ridden arguments (I especially love when they use words like “litter!”) against what life must be like in a big family. Unless you’ve experienced it–and not just in your own family, but a few others, too, for comparison–how can you know what it’s like?

I don’t want 14 or 16 or 18 kids. But it only takes a little imagination to see that a home with 14 or 16 or 18 kids could very well be a happy one. It may not look like MY house or YOUR house or the typical American household, but holy canoli, whoever said we typical American parents are getting it right, anyway?

I could rail against having huge families, but what do I have to base it on? A half-hour TLC special? And even if you think the Duggar family is “creepy”, a word I’ve heard thrown about quite a bit in relation to them, how does that apply to other big families? What about all the miserable people in smaller familes…for instance, the Hogan family isn’t doing so hot; does that mean nobody should have two kids? And I know a lot of people who have complaints about their families: they didn’t get along with their siblings, felt they had too much responsibility, felt they didn’t have enough. What does it prove, except for whatever reason, the dynamics in their particular family led to an unhappy childhood?

I have experience with raising a family of four kids. My family of four kids, not anyone else’s. But I spoke to dozens and dozens of parents and kids with between four and eleven children while writing my book. Yes, a few of the interviews made me cringe, and had I had a bias against big families, I guess I could have filed them away as ammo. But the vast majority of the responses came from what seemed like loving, attentive, responsible parents in functional and happy homes. I bet I’d get a similar ratio if I surveyed a group of smaller families, too.

As for what it’s like to grow up in a family of 18 kids? I imagine it could be awful. I imagine it could be wonderful. Just like growing up with no siblings, or one, or two, there are a lot of factors at play that shape a family’s life. Truly, though? I don’t know. And unless you are one of a very, very small number of people who’ve experienced living in a very large family firsthand? Neither do you.

Saturday night, we headed downtown for Venetian Night with the kids and a couple we have gotten to know here who don’t have children (but like them). Taking four kids out to a packed downtown event is pretty much always nerve-wracking; doing it with other people, especially newish friends, is even more so. What if the kids act up? What if we have a meltdown on the El platform or in the middle of a busy street? What if somebody takes off or screams bloody murder? What if our crew is totally overwhelming and noisy?

As it turned out, we took two busy trains, walked through hordes and throngs and crowds of people, dealt with a deli that was almost completely out of food, walked many more blocks to find a spot on the grass, watched 20 minutes worth of (fantastic) fireworks, and then went home–and, besides a little whining, the kids were totallly fine through it all (perhaps shocked into cooperation due to all the chaos). Though we were, of course, somewhat distracted by trying to keep tabs on everyone, we were able to enjoy the gorgeous summer night and the company of our friends, who turned out to be very cool about handling the downtown chaos with all our kids in tow, (even though I think sometimes they weren’t sure how we could possibly be keeping track of them all).

Sometimes we avoid taking them downtown because it seems like such a hassle overall, but even just getting there is part of the experience for the kids: the “twain” ride, which thrilled my two-year-old; the crowds of people downtown, which intrigued the olders:

Isaac: Mom, this looks just like a scene out of a movie about New York City!
Me: Maybe you could say that New York City movies look just like a scene out of Chicago!
Isaac: Good point.

And boy, did they all sleep well that night.

Yesterday was my birthday. We went out to breakfast at a local diner, then headed home for me to start my day of doing absolutely nothing–the ultimate gift. My kids and hubby gave me a sweet little gift package with some lotions and balms and things (I am a sucker for little bottles of lotions and balms and things!) and, drumroll please, season 2.5 of Battlestar Gallactica. (As a general rule I don’t watch a ton of sci-fi, but one of the first shows I remember loving was Dr. Who, and so far the two dramatic series I’ve been most addicted to were the X-Files and BSG. I guess I’m a sucker for a good storyline and drama. And aliens and robots.) And then we wound up watching eight episodes in a row, because OMG, how can you stop when there’s a half-Cylon baby on the way and political unrest and cliff-hanging battle scenes and flashbacks that you aren’t really sure are flashbacks? Reluctantly, we turned off the TV at about 2 AM, vowing to watch the remaining four or five episodes this week.

Too late a night, too early a morning. Off to try to wrangle lunch and maybe take a trip to the grocery store. And then come home and come up with some story ideas to pitch. It can’t be all fireworks and sci-fi around here, after all.

Back when Sex and the City was in its heyday, people used to occasionally stop me on the street to say “Ohymygod, do you know who you look just like? MIRANDA!” It happened regularly–once or twice a week. And if I went to a party where somebody saw a resemblance, word would get around and I’d hear it all night.

I don’t always see it myself, but once in a while somebody takes a photo of me with a Miranda-like quality. Unfortunately, those pictures don’t tend to be very flattering ones of me. The side of my face that looks most like Miranda is my “bad” side, which is weird, because I think Miranda is quite pretty, but not my personal version of Miranda. I’m like the uglier version of Miranda, but just on one side of my face.

During the SV Moms Group contributor party at BlogHer, we got to have makeovers and then a professional photo shoot at Sak’s. My makeup guy was fantastic. He knew exactly how much eye makeup to put on (not much) to keep my eyes from appearing to sink back into my head, and showed me a trick for applying eyeliner to the underside of my top lid to “open” up my eye. It worked, and I was duly impressed. He also raved over my skin, calling it “peaches and cream” when I’d always thought of it more as “veiny and white, like an old lady’s leg”. When you’re putting makeup on me, flattery and skill will get you everywhere…no wonder I bought the Armani foundation he was shilling, even though I a) rarely wear foundation and b) never spend more than $10 on it when I do.

Anyway, my photographer was great, too, but I realized too late that the angle I was sitting in for most of the pictures displayed my “bad” side, or more specifically, my “bad Miranda” side. Check it out…

Good side (but I was goofing off, so I can’t really use this as a headshot…)

Bad Miranda.

Good side

Bad Miranda.

Actually, I think I see a pattern here–pictures of me goofing off are flattering; pictures of me barely smiling are all Bad Miranda. The problem is that the Bad Miranda shots seem more appropriate for professional use than the ones of me goofing around. Which leads me to wonder, does Cynthia Nixon also have a Bad Miranda side, but as a professional performer she’s learned how to get around it? Maybe I should write and ask her for advice…

I always love seeing how mom writers with different specialties or focuses manage their time and navigate their careers. So I was thrilled to meet Julie Roads via the information superhighway. As a copywriter, Julie’s writing audience is slightly different from mine, but we both deal with a lot of the same issues: how to market our work, how to please our clients, and how to balance it all with our family lives. I’m especially impressed by Julie because of her notable client list and obvious passion for her work. And Julie has a fantastic blog where she provides helpful insider advice on marketing a business, blogging, and how to get your message across, advice you can use whether you’re an entreprenuer or a writer trying to figure out where you fit in the blogosphere. Here, Julie answers some questions about her work, her approach, her life, and how she balances it all. (You can find my answers to the same questions over on her blog.)

1. Who are you?
I am Julie Roads. A writer, mother of 2 kids (Sophie and Jack) and 2 dogs (Baloula and Silas), wife (to Patti), yogini, lover of butter, Vineyarder, beach walker. (Hey, this is starting to feel like my Facebook page.)

2. What do you do?
I am officially a freelance commercial copywriter. I own my own writing and marketing business called Writing Roads. I’m obsessed with blogging and writing blogs for clients as a way to propel their businesses/work/companies/selves into the webosphere.

3. What kind of writing do you do?
Marketing writing. Which means I write the content for websites, blogs, brochures, ads, sell sheets, speeches, sales letters and on and on. But I spend 80% of my time writing websites and blogs.

4. What kind of writing do you wish you could spend all of your time doing?
I suppose that I’m supposed to say ‘a novel’…but the thing is that I really love what I do. I love talking to clients and really listening to them, who they are and what their business is, doing my research and then creating something for them. I know that I have at least 3 novels in me and they will come out - and I’ve also written 4 children’s books - but, the thing is…marketing writing suits me, and it brings instant joy. Novels are so…long. Blogs in particular are the ultimate platform/landscape for my brain. I love the length and the style and the timeliness.

5. How do you manage your business and your family and yourself?
Who told you that I did? Just kidding. But this is the hardest part of my life. I could work 16 hours a day and never feel ‘done’…or burnt out for that matter. Still, my heart breaks when I’m not with my family. I started my company as an answer to the question, “How can I stay home with my kids and not go broke?” And, I literally mothered them and worked whenever I could. It turned out that I was ‘working’ 24 hours a day - and that wasn’t working for my family. As the kids got a bit older, I was able to carve out time that was dedicated to work…and now I’m up to 8 hours a day (and post-bedtime if I have to).

Bottomline is that you just have to find time for everyone or your family will be so mad at you that you won’t have them anymore! Sometimes I think that I’m the one that gets the shaft because when I have a free moment, I work - but I love what I do so much that it feeds me like going to spa would feed someone else. Okay, I just read that back and I”m a little worried about myself.

How do we really do it? Nuts and bolts? We have a calendar and play with it on a regular basis and we stick to it as much as humanly possible. This is when you work, this is when I workout, this is when we eat, this is when we play….

6. Do you ever get writer’s block?
No.

7. What do you do when this happens?
I’ll tell you why it doesn’t happen. Writer’s block happens when you push against something and get a ton of resistance - like when you say, ‘I’m going to write this right now, no matter what.’ And, I don’t do that. When I sit down to work on a project and nothing flows (15 minutes tops), I just shrug and move on to something else, then I come back to the project later. I know that the words and creativity will flow when they’re ready - and they do. Granted I never start a project an hour before it’s due to safeguard this practice - though I love writing on a tight deadline.

The other thing I do is use the internet. If I have to write a page about the benefits of sharp steak knives (which has actually never happened), I start reading other sites on or around the same topic. I usually find something terribly written and misinformed which makes me all uppity and full of thoughts like, “well, I can do better than thaaaat”…and then, I do.

8. What did having a website do for your business inititally?
Initially, my site was crap. I made it myself from a cheapo template. And it did very little for me. Okay, it did nothing for me.
Then I paid some money (I know, but it’s necessary!) and built a fantastic site that I was proud of that actually had a portfolio of my work…and my business just skyrocketed. There is no other way to describe the credibility that my site gave me. People had some idea of who and what they were getting…and they wanted it!

11. What is the purpose of your blog?
The purpose of my blog is to converse with the wide world of internet users. I use it to inform people about writing, marketing, etc. I use it to show people who I am as a writer and a person. And, I use it to learn. Every post that I write teaches me something about my topic and/or about blogging. My blog is a traffic driver and a tool for searchability. In the last 6 months, my blog has brought my Alexa rank up (or down? Let’s just say closer to #1) over 7 million points. I’ve also met some incredible people via my blog and guest blogging.

12. What have you gotten from your blog that you didn’t intend to get - good and bad?
Good - an education. You don’t know until you do. My work on my own blog directly influences my capacity and ability to blog for others. I learn everyday.
Bad - an addiction. I’m certifiable. I have to post everday. Have to.

13. Is your blog the primary vehicle for selling your work?
Ummmmm….no. The primary vehicle for selling my work is word of mouth and referrals. But the blog is critical to lending me credibility and building me a serious web and search presence.

14. What advice would you give to someone thinking about maybe, possibly, sort of starting a blog and/or a website for their business?
What in the world are you waiting for! Do it now! And, call or email me…Helping people start blogs, build writing strategies and create custom blogs (with my design partners) are all things I love to do - currently one of my favorite parts of my job.

15. Do you run your blog all by yourself (widgets, design, plugins) or does someone help you with that sort of thing?
I do it all by myself, and it’s pretty basic…but I’m looking ahead and I would love to have someone do this for me and make my blog super-fancy and functional. It’ll happen…things always do.

Thanks for “virtually” stopping by, Julie! If you have any questions for either Julie or I on anything from balancing a writing career with kids to the nuts and bolts of professional consumer writing or copywriting, feel free to e-mail them to one of us (you can reach me at meaganfrancis at yahoo dot com) or leave them in the comments box. We’ll be joining up to answer them in a future post.

A few months ago, I received an invitation from a PR person to take my family on a trip to a popular Midwestern family destination. I wasn’t sure how the PR firm had found me; they mentioned liking my blog, but I assumed that they had also seen that I have written about midwestern travel and lifestyle for magazines like Midwest Living, Michigan BLUE and AAA Living and the e-mail was worded similarly to other press trips I’ve been invited on.

When we got to the destination, I picked up my meal vouchers and press pass, and that’s where I saw it: below my name, on the line that would usually read “Freelance Travel Writer” or list the name of the publication I was writing for, it said “MOMMY BLOGGER.”

I cringed, then felt indignant. Mommy blogger? That’s what I am? Not a published writer, not a blogger who happens to cover motherhood in addition to other topics. Just…mommy blogger. For one thing, I don’t even LIKE the word “mommy”…it’s always felt kind of smarmy and whiny to me, and it’s more of an affectionate title used by young children than a descriptive term. Used in conjunction with “blogger”–and written on the line that would usually indicate my credentials–it felt almost like an insult.

I know that Mommy Blogger seems to be the title of choice for many moms who blog. At BlogHer, after all, there was an entire track of MommyBlogging panels; and a lot of women use the title proudly or at least readily. And maybe some use it ironically, sort of like re-claiming the word “bitch” or “queer”…a way to take a title that somebody might try to use to diminish us as a whole, and instead find power in it.

I can understand that, I guess, but I still don’t like it, because no matter how proudly we may use the title, the fact is that, at least to me, MommyBlogger still sounds kind of silly and trivial. While I know not everyone shares my distaste for the word “mommy”–and I definitely don’t stand in judgment of people who like that word–I don’t appreciate how it’s applied across the board to mothers who blog. And as much as I’d like to think they are, I don’t imagine that the non-bloggers people using and hearing the term are doing it as some kind of pro-mom-blogger political statement.

The sound of the title aside, I feel like my writing and blogging stands on its own without having to be linked with my maternal status–yes, I am a mother even when I write, but I come to the page as a complex individual, not just a “mommy”. Also, I spend my whole life being a mom; writing is something I do for myself, even when I am writing about my kids; and even though I don’t completely remove my “mom hat” when I write–I just kinda slide it over and make room for the “writer” hat–I write as a writer, not a mommy.

And what about those of us who blog, and are mothers, but don’t write solely about our kids, primarily about our kids, or at all about our kids? Would you call Guy Kawasaki, who also has four children, a “DaddyBlogger” if he mentioned his kids from time to time? Does the term “daddyblogger” regularly get used to describe men who, just like we mothers, write about their kids in addition to their lives and their jobs and their interests?

I’m not generally one to get my knickers in a knot over terminology. Though I can see why it might bother some, I really don’t care if somebody calls me “hon” or “girl”. But “mommyblogger” gets me fired up, maybe partly because it just seems to be used so unquestioningly. I wonder why we accept this term so readily and why there doesn’t seem to be more debate over it (maybe there already was and I missed it?)

I have yet to refer to myself as a “mommyblogger”, but more and more, other people are referring to me as one. I know it’s done with positive intent, but the fact is, I just don’t like it. I’m a mother who blogs. I’m a writer with children. I write about my husband sometimes, but you don’t call me a “Wifeblogger”, do you? The title of “mommy” is only appropriate in the context of my relationship with my kids. In other words, my sons can call me Mommy. The rest of the world, on the other hand? I’d rather they didn’t.

…Mom is the only person who will be the least bit concerned when the toilet paper runs out.

This is my latest column, but it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately so I wanted to re-post it here.

When my 8- and 10-year olds were 3 and 1, we lived on the third floor of an apartment complex. That meant that every time we wanted to go outside, I had to schlep two kids up and down two flights of stairs, plus another flight of stairs on the outside of the building.

If we were going to the pool, I also had to carry towels, floaties and other water gear. If we were going for a walk, I had to get the stroller down those same stairs.

And I did this several times a day, every day, because my kids wanted so desperately to be outside. They’d stand with their noses pressed against the sliding-glass door overlooking the courtyard, looking depressed. Or they’d go out onto our little balcony until they made me too nervous because they seemed to be plotting a way to jump over the edge.

Something has definitely changed. As my kids have gotten older, they seem to have lost the drive to go outside. Not only does it almost never occur to them to go out of their own accord, but they frequently act as though I’m torturing them when I boot them out the door.

I know I’m not alone. Think back to your childhood: like me, I’m guessing a lot of you ran out (or were thrown out) the door shortly after breakfast on a sunny summer morning, not to return until lunch (or for a Popsicle break or to beg for ice cream money). Then you were back out until dinner.

After dinner you might get a couple more hours of play, finally turning in when your parents called you at dusk. Mosquito-bitten, scabby-kneed and filthy, you’d stumble home just to start it all again the next day. And if you were like me, you loved it that way.

But plenty of research has shown that not only do kids not play outdoors nearly as much as they used to, that that lack of physical activity and connection with nature is having a negative effect on their physical and mental health.

So what’s happened to kids? Why don’t they want to play outside?

A few theories have been thrown around. Kids are less likely to be at home during the day now, and are more likely to be in child care or after-school activities. When they are with their parents, their time is likely to be scheduled with sports, lessons and tutoring. That leaves less free time for riding bikes or playing kickball.

And you can’t underestimate the pull of the screen. Sure, when we were kids, there were cartoons on Saturday mornings and after-school specials to watch, and the occasional Disney movie that would keep you in on a Sunday night. But there were no 24-hour kids’ channels, no Internet, and not quite such an extensive array of game systems to keep you glued to a screen for most of the day.

The truth is, we parents are to blame for a lot of this. We let the kids zone out because it’s an easy way for us to keep tabs on them, we don’t want to argue with them. And it feels “safer” than letting them roam around outside.

We let them stay in because that’s where WE want to be - glued to our laptops and favorite programs. Kids aren’t just naturally losing the drive and desire to be outside. They’re learning it from us.

What’s the answer? There are a lot of little changes I’ve been implementing in our house to get the kids back into the great outdoors, but I’ve discovered that though I can lead the children to the yard, I can’t make them enjoy it when there’s nobody out there sharing it with them. The only way to do that is to get other kids playing outside, too, and make it seem like the happening place to be rather than in front of the computer or TV.

And the only way to do that might mean unplugging MYSELF, heading into the front yard with them, getting to know the parents in my community, and helping to create the kind of neighborhood I want my kids to grow up in.

It might mean going more than an hour without checking my e-mail sometimes, but I think I can deal. Our kids don’t know what they’re missing, but we do - and we may be the only ones who can help them discover it again.

What do you think? Are your kids playing outside less than you’d like? Have you come up with any creative ways to get them out the door again?

Over the past several years I’ve experienced a lot of blog angst. Some history: I started my first blog in late 2000 or early 2001. Back then, I had no blog angst. Not that many people were reading or writing blogs yet, so I didn’t feel overly competitive or vulnerable through posting. I posted under my first name only and didn’t tell people IRL about my blog. My posts were funny, often raw, and very personal.

Somewhere along the line, I also started writing professionally, contributing to magazines and also writing a weekly parenting column for a couple of newspapers. In an attempt to streamline my online time, I decided to do away with the anonyblog and attach my blog to my website, writing under my full name. Since I was directing editors and those who read my parenting columns and magazine stories to my site, my readership went up. And as a result, I found myself really backing away from highly personal posts laced with cuss words and biting observations.

What I found is that–FOR ME–the sort of thing I’m comfortable saying to ten of my closest friends is not necessarily the kind of thing I’d be OK with shouting in a room full of people who know me by name only. I’m an extrovert, but a reserved one. I was also a little worried that overly in-your-face posts might turn off editors, whom I need to impress–or at least, not completely disgust–in order to make a living. Besides that, I’ve never been someone who goes out looking for controversy: in fact, I don’t much like it unless I feel very passionately about a topic. And when I do want to make a strong statement, I spend a lot of time mulling it over so I can make a logical argument rather than jumping while the issue is hot and filling in any holes in my argument later.

None of the above traits–mulling over an issue forever before posting about it, avoiding controversy, and trying to keep from offending editors (or, for that matter, my family and friends)–is likely to make me a superstar blogger. And while I can deal with not being a superstar, comparing myself to lots of talented, funny, in-your-face bloggers sometimes makes me wonder if I’m not being “authentic” enough. Should I talk more about my failings as a parent or my kids’ annoying habits? Do I paint too rosy a picture of my life, or worse, am I too shallow, not digging deeply enough into my fears and issues and laying them all out there for the world to see? Am I perpetuating myths about motherhood by not being “radical”? Or am I just plain…boring?

Whether my somewhat conservative approach to blogging is wussy or wise, I haven’t been able to decide. But I’m beginning to think it doesn’t much matter. For better or worse, I am who I am–if I know and trust you, I’ll tell you everything there is to know about me; but I’m much more reticent to spill my guts publicly. I love a good debate, but am wary about wading in unless I feel like I know enough about the topic and have enough time to present a solid argument. I’m a polisher; scrubbing and shaping posts for a long time to make sure they say exactly what I want them to say. When I decide there’s something controversial or highly personal that I want to share with a larger audience, I put a lot of time and thought into how I want to present that thought–and then, yes, I sometimes stress out over how it’ll be received. I could punch things up and get way more raw and controversial all the time, but I’d be stressed out all the time. Moreover, it just wouldn’t be me.

It’s easy to come away from a gathering of popular and talented bloggers and think that maybe you aren’t doing it “right”. But the thing is, there is room for all of us out here–the controversial blogs and the quieter blogs, edgy voices and gentler voices, those who write frankly about the rougher side of parenthood and those who decorate posts with jaw-dropping photos of angelic kids or their latest gorgeous handicraft. It helps us remember that everyone’s life is a balance of the polite and the raw, the public and the private, success and failure, and joy and hair-pulling frustration. The “mommy porn” blogs inspire me, and the “raw reality” blogs remind me that nobody’s life is in soft focus all the time.

As for me, I’m somewhere in the middle, and that’s okay too.

We’ve been busily documenting our adventures and misadventures on the road over at http://www.momroadtrip.com. We’re heading from Denver to Salt Lake City today, and we’ve seen nothing but hills and shrubs for the last two hours. I’d love to write more, but we’re about to stop for lunch–so just head over to the Mom Road Trip site!

I’m leaving tonight for my week-long journey cross-country with the Mom Road Trip.

Here’s what I’ll miss:

*Impromptu hugs from my four-year-old
*”I love you, mommy!” from my two-year-old
*A much cooler, “Love ya, mom” from my bigger boys
*Early-morning snuggles…sometimes with all four of ‘em at once
*Watching the two little guys play together. Half the time I can’t even make out what kind of crazy game they’ve come up with.
*Watching the older two talk in circles around each other. They spend 90% of their waking hours together–fight bitterly sometimes, but are crazy close just the same. I know each one would be lost without the other.
*My two-year-old’s cheek on mine.

What I WON’T miss:

*”Mommy, he called me “poopy”
*”Oops–Uh, Mom? You may want to come look at this mess…”
*The morning scramble
*The last ten, hellish minutes of bedtime when everybody is trying to revolt before they finally give in and pass out.

Notice that my “what I’ll miss” list is longer than my “what I won’t” list. But, I’m looking forward to the break anyway!