Husband of a Blogger

A Blogger's Better Half

Yep, on her phone again.

This was a sweet message sent from me to my wife. Ten minutes later I get a notification I was tagged on Instagram.

This was a sweet message sent from me to my wife. Ten minutes later I get a notification I was tagged on Instagram.

Why was this (and several other) images not used? She looks nice. It shows off the dress well. The atmosphere is great. Oh, there is a light coming out of her head. Bummer.

Why was this (and several other) images not used? She looks nice. It shows off the dress well. The atmosphere is great. Oh, there is a light coming out of her head. Bummer.

Me. Dressed as a Rabbit. For the world to see. YAY.

Me. Dressed as a Rabbit. For the world to see. YAY.

Jenni used to be an editor at a newspaper. I think the journalism blood is still pumping through her veins. She’s been blogging for most of our marriage, and, at times, I worry that she might have an addiction. I’m not sure there’s a cure.

These are the times I’m reminded I’m the husband of a blogger

  • Bloggers often get solicited by companies and marketers, trying to reach the blogger’s audience. This can manifest as an invitation to dinner at a hip, Portland restaurant. I hear Jenni gush about the delicious, free food she’s given for review. They should have blogger-husband-to-go-containers for that kind of thing.
  • She has an all day blogger event, putting me on single daddy duty. Not that I mind being with my own kid, it’s just that he’s easier to handle when you get to say, “tag, you’re it; he just poured his milk in my shoe.”
  • I do get invited to join her on some of those events. I feel like she’s a celebrity when people say, “oh, you’re Jenni’s husband! I love her blog.”
  • Sometimes we have to stop the car so she can get out and pose next to a warehouse. But then none of the shots show off the outfit just right.
  • Random text conversations of ours get posted to her Instagram. My photo has been seen pinned on Pinterest.
  • Our car’s interior is currently covered in glitter – and she knows how much I hate glitter. When a 3-year-old girl needs a birthday gift wrapped, however, I’ll suffer through.
  • Craft projects litter every surface of the house.
  • Whenever we go out to eat, and the server brings our food, I have to wait until she gets it on Instagram before I can dig in. In all honesty though, I do the same thing with beer.
  • She experiments with recipes, and I’m the guinea pig. I can’t complain. My co-workers ask me who’s always making me so much good food.
  • We have email addresses that just contain our  first names and our domain name. It’s pretty cool. I don’t even need numbers after my name!
  • I can drop phrases like SEO, printables, WordPress conversion, etc., into conversations.
  • I recognize people from their blog. I feel like I know their superhero alter-ego, since I know them in real life.

So, it’s not all bad. Her foray into the blogging world has allowed us to meet some great people, who are also bitten by the bug. We’re part of a larger community that’s developing ways of sharing life together, online, and in person.

Happy blogging, honey.

6 Comments
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