Job application
So Babycenter, my favorite kid website recently was looking for new bloggers. I sent the following letter and sample column in. I haven't heard back, so maybe the job is gone, but I put a little effort into this writing so I thought I would post it...
My name is Kim Mordecai and I am a freelance writer based in Northern California. Three years ago I quit a great job as a staff writer at the Sacramento Bee after my first son Mordecai was born. Cai is now 2 ½ and my second son Solomon was born this past summer. In June I began a blog to keep a record of my kids growing up and to give myself a place to rant and chant about the beauty and drudgery of motherhood. The blog is called Beautiful Bluehaven Boys and is an unedited day-to-day diary which was recently featured in a Sacramento News and Review article about bloggers.
I have been a huge fan of Babycenter and Parentcenter since my first pregnancy. I’m a research junky and have found your sites packed with great information and ‘Bringing Up Ben and Birdy’ is a gorgeous and well-written journal. I understand you are looking for a journalist with a child who is approaching his first birthday. Solomon, aka Lolo, is nearly 8 months old and would be the perfect muse for a column like this.
I am a natural first-person writer and I have an addiction to the truth. I write about the days I have two hour tea parties, wipe noses, do puzzles, breastfeed and make lunches with the four food groups. I also write about the days I give time outs to the two year old and the baby, the days I fantasize about hopping a Greyhound to Baja and the naptimes I spend crying. In addition to documenting highs and lows, I also write about my many mama phobias and neuroses. One of my greatest hang-ups is my children growing up and leaving me with an empty nest and a broken heart. If I had my way, I would keep them babies forever. And while I am trying to avoid becoming the mother who makes her 16 year-old hold hands with her while crossing the street, I've made no promises.
Like many parents, my other fears have to do with my kids’ safety and include but are not limited to: natural disasters (including earthquakes and fires but excluding floods because I’m a strong swimmer), car accidents, dog attacks, snake attacks, and crocodile attacks. I am afraid of swimming pools but I love the ocean, I hate motorcycles but I love driving fast, and while I think illegal drugs are to be avoided at all costs, I’ve been known to take my kids to Red Robin for lunch and down a pina colada like a Hollywood groupie.
I believe in the complexity of mothers, we are terrified and brave, flawed and beautiful, we love our children more than life, but sometimes we don’t like them very much. That’s what my journal would be about, the honor of watching my children grow, the amazing humor they bring to my life and how hard it can be to make it through the day with my sanity in tact.
I am like most moms, striving for balance, fighting for composure. And while domestic life is not exactly Vegas when you’re rich and single, I make a great effort to soak up all the glory of diapers and sleepless nights, because I am very aware that one day I will look back on this time in my life, full of vomit and crying and chaos, and long for it like no other.
I would love the opportunity to write for your site. Below I have included a sample journal entry I wrote and some blog links. Please know that in addition to being sappy and goofy I am also a professional, I always meet my deadlines and am easy to work with. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Kim Mordecai
They grow up so fast.
In need of dentures and mumbling to himself, Solomon is nearly 8 months old now. No longer in the world of newborns, he has become a full-fledged baby with his first two teeth to prove it. Like most babies, he’s started with the bottom two, and if drool is any indicator there are plenty more on the way. And while this natural stage is charming in a slobbery kind of way, my boy is becoming a bit of a liability.
At the grocery store he gives the passing ladies his trademark goofy grin and as they stop to admire his flirty nature and fat cheeks I’m forced to step in. They are baby talking and reaching in for a cheek pinch and he’s gooing and gaaing and waving his fat little arms like a hypnotist. Like a cult leader he lures them closer and as soon as one of these unsuspecting admirers gets too close, he snags their hand, or worse, their hair or face with both hands. The child has superhuman power, he puts Bam-Bam Rubble to shame. With a satisfied “Ahhhh” and ‘Jaws’ music playing in the background, he slowly drags his prey toward his deceptively sharp little fangs. The other day he actually drew blood on a naïve young stock boy in the cereal aisle, I kid you not. Suddenly when he coos at the elderly cashier at the hair salon I feel as if I have a mini criminal in tow. It’s kind of like taking a rabid poodle to run errands.
And while there is no end in sight for this dangerous vampire stage, I am taking little mental Polaroids of every assault my little boy-wonder commits. It’s all in the teeth you know. Before the teeth come in our babies are soft, buttery little toothless wonders only capable of consuming warm liquids, no appetite for wristwatches or the dimpled elbows of unsuspecting shoppers. But the teeth are the first sign of the little meat eaters emerging. Way beyond rice cereal, I look at Lolo and it looks like he’s thinking, “The breast milk was nice Mama, but how about a nice New York strip, medium rare?” And it’s all down hill from here. Two teeth lead to three, and soon he will abandon these to the tooth fairy for shiny quarters and his adult teeth will be here, big and strong, all grown up. Adult, soon my little double-toothed bundle of joy will be an adult, a man and that is so tough for me to wrap my fragile mama-mind around.
So while those teeth are a bit dangerous, when I have spare moment and a clean hand I relish letting him gnaw away on my fingers to soothe his tender gums. I revel in the placid way he looks up at me and I only flinch a bit when he manages to get a good chomp in. I’m living in these moments now. At night in bed when he falls asleep between Jaya and I, we whisper shared awe of how quickly he is growing up and away. We hold hands over his tiny chest and giggle about bloody grocery workers and marvel at what tomorrow will bring.
My name is Kim Mordecai and I am a freelance writer based in Northern California. Three years ago I quit a great job as a staff writer at the Sacramento Bee after my first son Mordecai was born. Cai is now 2 ½ and my second son Solomon was born this past summer. In June I began a blog to keep a record of my kids growing up and to give myself a place to rant and chant about the beauty and drudgery of motherhood. The blog is called Beautiful Bluehaven Boys and is an unedited day-to-day diary which was recently featured in a Sacramento News and Review article about bloggers.
I have been a huge fan of Babycenter and Parentcenter since my first pregnancy. I’m a research junky and have found your sites packed with great information and ‘Bringing Up Ben and Birdy’ is a gorgeous and well-written journal. I understand you are looking for a journalist with a child who is approaching his first birthday. Solomon, aka Lolo, is nearly 8 months old and would be the perfect muse for a column like this.
I am a natural first-person writer and I have an addiction to the truth. I write about the days I have two hour tea parties, wipe noses, do puzzles, breastfeed and make lunches with the four food groups. I also write about the days I give time outs to the two year old and the baby, the days I fantasize about hopping a Greyhound to Baja and the naptimes I spend crying. In addition to documenting highs and lows, I also write about my many mama phobias and neuroses. One of my greatest hang-ups is my children growing up and leaving me with an empty nest and a broken heart. If I had my way, I would keep them babies forever. And while I am trying to avoid becoming the mother who makes her 16 year-old hold hands with her while crossing the street, I've made no promises.
Like many parents, my other fears have to do with my kids’ safety and include but are not limited to: natural disasters (including earthquakes and fires but excluding floods because I’m a strong swimmer), car accidents, dog attacks, snake attacks, and crocodile attacks. I am afraid of swimming pools but I love the ocean, I hate motorcycles but I love driving fast, and while I think illegal drugs are to be avoided at all costs, I’ve been known to take my kids to Red Robin for lunch and down a pina colada like a Hollywood groupie.
I believe in the complexity of mothers, we are terrified and brave, flawed and beautiful, we love our children more than life, but sometimes we don’t like them very much. That’s what my journal would be about, the honor of watching my children grow, the amazing humor they bring to my life and how hard it can be to make it through the day with my sanity in tact.
I am like most moms, striving for balance, fighting for composure. And while domestic life is not exactly Vegas when you’re rich and single, I make a great effort to soak up all the glory of diapers and sleepless nights, because I am very aware that one day I will look back on this time in my life, full of vomit and crying and chaos, and long for it like no other.
I would love the opportunity to write for your site. Below I have included a sample journal entry I wrote and some blog links. Please know that in addition to being sappy and goofy I am also a professional, I always meet my deadlines and am easy to work with. Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Kim Mordecai
They grow up so fast.
In need of dentures and mumbling to himself, Solomon is nearly 8 months old now. No longer in the world of newborns, he has become a full-fledged baby with his first two teeth to prove it. Like most babies, he’s started with the bottom two, and if drool is any indicator there are plenty more on the way. And while this natural stage is charming in a slobbery kind of way, my boy is becoming a bit of a liability.
At the grocery store he gives the passing ladies his trademark goofy grin and as they stop to admire his flirty nature and fat cheeks I’m forced to step in. They are baby talking and reaching in for a cheek pinch and he’s gooing and gaaing and waving his fat little arms like a hypnotist. Like a cult leader he lures them closer and as soon as one of these unsuspecting admirers gets too close, he snags their hand, or worse, their hair or face with both hands. The child has superhuman power, he puts Bam-Bam Rubble to shame. With a satisfied “Ahhhh” and ‘Jaws’ music playing in the background, he slowly drags his prey toward his deceptively sharp little fangs. The other day he actually drew blood on a naïve young stock boy in the cereal aisle, I kid you not. Suddenly when he coos at the elderly cashier at the hair salon I feel as if I have a mini criminal in tow. It’s kind of like taking a rabid poodle to run errands.
And while there is no end in sight for this dangerous vampire stage, I am taking little mental Polaroids of every assault my little boy-wonder commits. It’s all in the teeth you know. Before the teeth come in our babies are soft, buttery little toothless wonders only capable of consuming warm liquids, no appetite for wristwatches or the dimpled elbows of unsuspecting shoppers. But the teeth are the first sign of the little meat eaters emerging. Way beyond rice cereal, I look at Lolo and it looks like he’s thinking, “The breast milk was nice Mama, but how about a nice New York strip, medium rare?” And it’s all down hill from here. Two teeth lead to three, and soon he will abandon these to the tooth fairy for shiny quarters and his adult teeth will be here, big and strong, all grown up. Adult, soon my little double-toothed bundle of joy will be an adult, a man and that is so tough for me to wrap my fragile mama-mind around.
So while those teeth are a bit dangerous, when I have spare moment and a clean hand I relish letting him gnaw away on my fingers to soothe his tender gums. I revel in the placid way he looks up at me and I only flinch a bit when he manages to get a good chomp in. I’m living in these moments now. At night in bed when he falls asleep between Jaya and I, we whisper shared awe of how quickly he is growing up and away. We hold hands over his tiny chest and giggle about bloody grocery workers and marvel at what tomorrow will bring.
