This? This is wonderful

At first, I wanted to put my giant, wonderfully clunky pink suede platform wedge heels right up on my desk somewhere in between the seven notebooks of to-do lists, three half-empty cups of coffee with puddles of sugar and cream at the bottom, and very disorganized-looking pile of thumb drives with a meticulous catalogued system of saving random things on them. I wanted to lean back and close my eyes for just a minute too long and then just stare back at my computer screen and nod knowingly. Yup, yup. That's what I'd be thinking.

Or I wanted to force out a few tears and thank God, my manager and all my mother's friends in the audience who read my blog.

If not that, then maybe just a a little double-fist pump in a half-squat position, a Mary Tyler Moore wink at the camera and then back to work straightaway.

Those were the scripted reactions that ran through my mind when I heard the news that I'd been placed on a list of bloggers. Not an adorable made-up meme that someone hilariously made up an ironic badge to pass out to strangers. A real, live, pretty fucking awesome list of bloggers who I love and adore and am inspired by and have read forever and ever and know and call friends and great admire.

It's Babble's Top 100 Mom Blogs and this year, I am on it. When I heard, I didn't do anything suave or funny or even entertaining. I probably squaled. I certainly teared up. I felt overwhelmed and very happy. (There are an estimated FOUR MILLION mom blogs? Holy oh hell, friends.)

Part of this emotion is that I've had a tough time with these lists. They used to be narrowed down by half and many of those bloggers -- wonderful writers and incredible women -- recurred year after year. I often read through the names and studied the smiling photos and wondered where the smaller bloggers were, where the up-and-coming women writing their hearts out could be placed, hunted for the moms who aren't social networking power players or A-listers or invited to all the parties at BlogHer but still are committed and clever and leave me with thinking "wow" after I read their posts. I wanted more. I wanted to see more diversity, I wanted to feel represented on that list, even if I knew deep deep down in my blogging heart that I'd never be nominated to be on one.

And then the list expanded. And there I was, a silly photo I love from last New Year's Eve of Lil wearing his third-googly-eye and me in a frilly apron, staring out from a seat right in the middle of that list.

I am so thrilled. And one of the reasons I am so happy is because the company kept here is exactly what I have sought in scanning the lists of years past. I am very proud and thankful to be where I am with the ladies I see all around me.

It was a dizzy kind of fun to see the links for this list spinning by through Facebook shares and on Twitter. And what meant even more was the sweet intro written thoughtfully by the delightful Mommyfriend, the kind emails from those people in the balcony (yes, my mother's friends) and the cheers of the people who have know idea what in the cyber-world this list means to mama bloggers.

When I shared the news with Lil E, his own immediate reaction was very...seven.

"What number are you?" he asked pointedly.

"It matters not," I said calmly, conjuring up the next part with all the Meryl Streepness or Helen Mirren I could portray convincingly to a first grader. "I might be 99. But who cares? It's so great to be named."

You know this couldn't just be a HELL-YEAH-MOMMY! moment, right? It had to be a Sunday school lesson, too.

"Yeahhh," he nodded, trying really hard not to interrupt me. "But what number are you?"

At the time I didn't know. But when the list was released, his enthusiasm was still on hold for that magic number.

"The list is out! I am so excited! This is a big deal to me!" I squealed and cried and double-fist-pumped.

"MOMMY!" he shared in it with me. "SO DO YOU KNOW WHAT NUMBER YOU ARE NOW?!"

I laughed. I did know. I felt the same about the number as I (once) did the list itself. But I answered anyway.

"51," I told him this time. "I am 51."

"THANK GOODNESS," he said relieved and then walked away.

A moment later, he peeked his head up and smiled just the way he once looked at me devilishly like he might spring out of his crib and run out of the apartment in his diaper to support himself as a motorcycle stunstman and by working at Taco Bell to never return to my arms...orrrrr, he might just lay back down and sleep in for seven more hours.Either way, he was thinking about all his options.

"I'm happy about that for you," he said. And then in his fakest, most courtesy-voiced way explained best by the French word douceatre, he said.

"It's SO GREAT you are 51," he went on, then quietly said in a much lower octave and volume, "...and not 99."

Oh, 51. Oh, very top of the super top of the top-top 100. Oh, 99 and 100. Right now, I love it all.

What I'd love most is if you do click through to these 100 ladies and give their savvy, smart, sassy, soulful writing your love. Then tell me what blogs you think should be on the list of Top 100 Mom Blogs.

Because no matter how I reacted or where I am on that damn thing, I know I will want to read the blogs you hold in the highest regard. That list? That's wonderful, too.