This week, I was minding my own business on the commute to work, picking my nose, reading about the Beastie Boys, daydreaming about cheese, adjusting a wedgie–whatever things you do in the privacy of a packed A-train car filled with anonymous commuters.

As the train pulled up to the West 4th Street station, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to face this young woman with the sweetest smile and a fedora, who I expected to be giving directions to, or thanking her for pointing out that I had dropped my MetroCard. Instead, she blurted out in the brief second before the doors closed, that while she has no kids, she reads my blog.

It kind of made my day.

At least after I nervously replayed my train ride, hoping that she didn’t see me doing something totally embarrassing like knocking over an old lady to grab the last seat.

(But I didn’t. I only do that on the commute home when my feet really hurt.)

What stayed with me all week, though, was the email Kelly sent me later that morning. As I told her, I  think it’s too good not to share it.

If I had a quick moment, I would have told you why I was so enthusiastic (besides being a total nerd). Sometimes when I’m out with my single lady friends, who all read blogs, and I mention some mommy blog, I’m met with judgmental silence.  

You read mommy blogs?

I’m met with the same look, the look your best girlfriend gives you when you admit that you keep calling that loser ex who cheated on you.

What my friends don’t understand is that Mommy Blogs are women blogs.

If I skipped out on Mommy blogs because I don’t have kids I would be missing out on the yummy recipes of GGC or the general angst all New Yorkers have when celebrating anything on 9/11.

So, please know that lots of different kinds of people [read mom blogs] and love it. Some are mommies. Some are single, chubby black girls who live in Bed Stuy. And we could all learn from each other.

I always wonder if I would have read mom blogs, had I discovered them before I actually spawned. Whether I would find kindred spirits in the community of women writers, writing about womanly things and shared experiences–as people like Laurie White and Roo and Leah and Heather B have.

I would hope I would have. I would hope I’d have been open to the stories of women with children, and not hindered by my anxiety at being single myself, or jealous at their secret codes and inside jokes about playgroups and mucus plugs and other things I never knew had names. I hope I would have had Kelly’s wisdom and willingness to see what unifies us over what separates us.

But I don’t know.

One thing I do know: Kelly needs her own blog.