I entered a writing contest in one of my parenting magazines. They were looking for interesting internet blogs about family life and parenting stories. I found my favorite one and sent it in. They read over 200 entries and chose the top ten journals. The winners were featured in this month’s publication.
I flipped open the magazine excited to read the entries of my fellow moms and see what kind of blogs the columnists considered worthy. Some of the articles were good but for the most part I felt as if the contest was about who could have the most traumatic story. Some wrote about the difficulties of trying to conceive. Others wrote about delivering premature infants and the struggles that come with delayed children. A couple of the entries were about the joys and problems that come with an adopted child. One man wrote about being the “mom” while his partner took on the “dad” role. Another couple discussed the woes of being a black couple in DC (because there are no other black people in DC?). Most sadly, one woman wrote about losing her son unexpectedly way too early.
After reading the competition's letters, I assume my life, children and stories are just too boring. Let’s face reality. I am a white, Christian, heterosexual woman married to a heterosexual man. I am the mother of four children who were conceived the good old fashion way, delivered from my own womb on their due dates. None of them have any major health issues, diseases or disabilities. And, thankfully, they are all still alive and with us. I guess we are just the average run-of-the-mill family.
No, I didn’t win. But if it takes a struggle, tragedy or abnormality to write an award-winning blog then I am fine with losing.
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