Vice

Now that I no longer smoke, and rarely drink, and don't whore around with random strangers (not that I ever did that, but I could have), I have no good vices left to me.

Sloth is not an option with three kids. Covetousness? Bitch, please. I am living the Life of Riley here, what do I have to be jealous of? Gluttony - I have been known to throw down on some chow, but with pre-pregnancy weight in sight, I'm not even doing that. Lust - yeah, no. Too tired. Greed? Despair? Wrath? (well, maybe when someone doesn't replenish the damned toilet paper roll!) Pride?

Oh, Pride. I almost forgot about that one. Pride is a hard one, isn't it? Of course I have pride in my children. I take pride in making my home comfortable and clean and appealing. I am proud of my husband, for being such a hard worker and good father. But pride in myself is tricky - how to be proud while straddling the line between vanity and humility?

Writing this blog has been a hard and fast lesson in self promotion. It is something I'm both uncomfortable with, and alarmingly astute at. I post on Facebook, I have it in my signature at my long time message board, I printed it on calling cards, I write for other blogs. When people mention it, I try to be appropriately self effacing while at the same time encouraging them to share it with others. It is a lot of fucking work.

When I entered that contest at Circle of Moms (remember that? When I asked you shamelessly, over and over again, to vote for me?), I was a little surprised that I made it into the Top 25. I had to answer a short interview and send in a picture that will be published to their membership. I worked on the questions for an embarrassing amount of time, and took close to 20 pictures to get the right one. And then, I still had to run it all by a panel of friends for approval.

Which picture is better? Is my chin too pointy in that one? I should have colored my hair. What about that shirt? Does that shirt look weird? Are my nostrils two different sizes? Oh God, my nostrils are two different sizes!

All of this for a paragraph and a wee picture that will barely get any notice.

That is pride.

Pride is not knowing your assets, pride is wanting other people to know. Which makes the entire concept of a blog a practice in pride. Because if I didn't want you to read it, if I didn't want you to comment, if I didn't want you to keep coming back and sharing it with your friends, well - I'd keep a diary, wouldn't I?