A Startling Revelation

Becoming a stay-at-home mom was like being in one of those science fiction movies where you look down at your hand and realize you're slowly disappearing.

I had spent most of my adult years appearing on local television, first as a morning anchor in South Carolina and then as a reporter in Nashville. I was used to being recognized wherever I went, consulted on everything from leash laws to hairdressers. But when I left my job, the recognition and special treatment I'd grown used to slowed to a trickle.

By the time I had a baby two years later, no one was clamoring for my opinion. No one even seemed to notice me. I was simply a tired-eyed housewife in a t-shirt and jeans with three kids in tow. And when people did talk to me, it was often condescending; they seemed to assume that stay-at-home moms were lower life forms, unable to cut it in the real world and fit only for wiping babies' butts and scrubbing toilets.

"When are you going back to work?" my former co-workers would ask concernedly when we ran into each other.

I was speechless every time. I was working.

To keep myself from disappearing entirely, I started writing during the baby's naps. I wrote a few magazine essays (this was one of them), and worked for months on a book proposal and manuscript. I sent off my work to countless magazine editors and literary agents.

I got rejected. Over and over and over again.

Hmph. I had thought my writing was pretty good. Was I wrong? I decided to put it to the test. I would start an online journal and let the cyberworld decide whether I sucked. I got on the Internet and found Blogger. I opened an account, chose a template and filled in my user profile. I was reading the book Oscar and Lucinda at the time and decided on Lucinda as my pseudonym. I quickly settled on the title "Suburban Turmoil" after looking up a synonym for 'chaos' in my thesaurus. I started posting.

Over time, my readership slowly started growing. I discovered mommy bloggers, a whole online community of smart and talented women, many of whom felt just as invisible and undervalued as I did. I got a good review on a deliciously evil site, was nominated for and won a blog contest and realized that maybe I didn't totally suck at writing after all. I began submitting my work to parenting websites and, miraculously, wasn't rejected.

I learned to laugh at the people around me who assumed I was "just" a stay-at-home mom. I forged some wonderful online friendships with other women and even managed to start hanging out with one of them in person. I regained my confidence in myself and my ability as a writer.

And I set a new goal for myself. My dream was to write a "Suburban Turmoil" column for an actual print publication. I thought it would fit perfectly in my town's widely-read, snarky alt-weekly, the Nashville Scene. One day a couple months ago, I sent the editor the link to my blog.

She responded almost immediately. She wanted the column for her paper. It would be called Suburban Turmoil. I could write about anything I wanted, as long as it was funny.

But there was one stipulation. I'd have to use my real name. I gulped. I stammered. I took a deep breath and said it was fine with me.

Tomorrow, the column debuts in the Scene. Tomorrow, my town and anyone else who Googles my name will be able to read this blog and find out exactly what I think about the secretly-evil crossing guard, the stoner bag boy, and the perfectly toned bitches at the local gym. You can still call me Lucinda if you like. That's the me the blog world knows, and I've grown quite fond of the name myself. But you should also know something else.

My real name is Lindsay Ferrier. And this is my blog.