First, I’d like to explain that I am perfectly aware that me linking to Dooce is kind of an absurd thing. I know that I am just a leetle blog currently read mostly by my husband, about 10 friends, and two nice girls who live in London (hi!), whereas Dooce is sort of like The New Yorker, and you wouldn’t catch me being like, oh hey have you ever heard of this cool little magazine, it’s called The New Yorker, let me just introduce you to the website. But I am not introducing you to Dooce. I just want to point out a certain post, if you haven’t read it yet.
Because I was at “dinner” (mostly beer, interspersed with a moule or a frite here and there) with the bridal party yesterday (see post below), and we were talking about why I’m blogging, and also the implications of sharing information about my child in such a public setting. And I thought, just read this, because I can’t say it better. It’s a perfect, beautiful statement of purpose for women doing what we (me and my buddy Heather B. Armstrong, you know) are doing. Just have a tissue handy, because if you are anything like me, it’s gonna make you bawl.