Glamour.com's Storked! Blogger Christine Coppa Joins Babble KidsChristine Coppa
Hello friends, my name is Christine Coppa (call me Chrissy). Some of you know me from glamour.com’s Storked! blog. I was dubbed a pregnant-turned-single-mom Carrie Bradshaw when I began chronicling my unplanned pregnancy and boyfriend’s speedy exit in July of 2007.
Jack Domenic, who will go by JD, on this blog arrived via planned C-section on August 30, 2007. (I wasn’t too posh to push and JD wasn’t breech. I had a major spinal surgery in my teen years. More on that later.) I was initially contracted to blog for glamour.com for three months, but then something happened—people liked it. I was contracted for three years thereafter.
It was a whirlwind. Here I was, 26, single, with a brand new baby boy and a steady writing gig with glamour.com I felt like the luckiest, craziest woman in the world. Lucky: I was contracted with Glamour (Does it get better? Yes, they sent flowers the size of a tree to my hospital room the day JD was born.) Crazy: I was contracted to divulge the most personal details of my life—of our lives. It was frightening, but equal parts liberating and therapeutic—it was artistic Xanax, really.
When mail poured into Glamour, my personal email and social media boxes, I realized I was doing something much bigger than writing for glamour.com I was championing single parents. I was breaking down stigmas that are supposed to shame us. I was connecting with strangers and they were thanking me, telling me their secrets and it was all very beautiful and inspiring. These people thought I was changing their lives—they were changing mine.
I got a book deal thanks to Storked! Rattled! was published in 2009 by Broadway Books. It was named a 2009 Target Breakout Book and in-store best-seller. Now it’s available on audible.com and iTunes.com—and even in Poland (I don’t speak or read Polish.) It was reviewed in The New York Times on Father’s Day 2009—kind of ironic considering my son, to this day, has never met his father. I remember Father’s Day 2009 like it was yesterday. My lit agent emailed me early: “You made the NYT. It’s good,” was all the email read. I wanted to puke. That feeling went away.
“A warm, frank, big-hearted book, which reveals Ms. Coppa’s doubts, difficulties and fears, as it attests to the success she’s made of her life—and of Jack Domenic’s.” —The New York Times. It was the second happiest day of my life—and every Father’s Day since, I have glanced at that review, then my smiling, happy, healthy boy and felt proud, excited, positive—still a little crazy and in denial this all actually happened: Baby, blog, book.
After three successful years with glamour.com I moved to parenting.com to exclusively pen the Mama’s Boy blog. I also wrote features and other copy for Parenting.com, Parenting and Baby Talk. It was a fun gig and I made new friends as I navigated the potty training and preschool years. In 2011 I was named a Yoplait Kids Spokesperson. Sometimes I interview celebs and I’ve been lucky enough to attend a few wonderful press trips with my little guy in tow.
This may all sound glammy, but like any Mommy, I’m overwhelmed and basically figuring out this parenting thing one juice box at a time. Like you, I wonder if the dishes in the dishwasher are clean and sometimes live out of the dryer because I have no time to fold clothes. I say “No, stop it, don’t do that” often and I’m the frantic Mom chasing her kid in the store after he promised to be “a good, big boy who didn’t need to ride in the cart.” I wipe sand out of my kid’s butt crack after a day at the beach and I’m most comfy sitting in the park with my mom friends, watching our kids play (hint: entertain themselves). My stomach drops when I’m at work and “Preschool” flashes on my cell. I itch reading preschool Lice outbreak notification letters, but knock on wood, we never had lice. I like an occasional cold beer or a glass of wine—on the bathroom tile floor while JD plays in the tub. Tiny blocks have injured my feet and I can identify superhero figures by name and color. I recently scraped dry pizza sauce off my jeans on the way to work. I thought they were clean—thanks JD. My iCal is full of bday parties, play-dates and T-ball games. Honestly guys, I’m just a single mom living in NJ using my craft to pay the bills, but feeling extremely lucky I wake up excited about work and never dreading another day in the office. Visual: I wrote this blog in boy short undies and a tee—in bed—after working all day in the mag office. The living room looked like a toy store exploded. JD was sleeping. My bedroom TV clicker is missing. JD hid it, I’m sure.
I’m a lover of the arts, fashion and feminists. I can admit to enjoying solitude, but think it’s a writer’s trait at best and nothing to be too concerned about. I panic (we’ll get into that here, too). I can cook a few things well. I enjoy traveling and thankfully JD is a great flyer. He prevailed on a direct flight from Hawaii to New Jersey. (No, I didn’t drug him with Benadryl. Yes, I had a 911 stash.)
Today I am a 31-year-old freelance writer and researcher. I am also a fashion and accessories Market Editor at First for Women, a national women’s publication with 1.5 million readers. I worked there on staff for a few years and I’m so excited to be back in the office PT. I have a lot on my plate and JD is my no. 1 priority. It can be tough, scary, liberating and joyful all in the same breath.
I’m alone in the sense that I am a solo-single parent. His father left in my first trimester. I filed for child support when JD was 2. Other than court ordered monies there is no contact and that is on D.A.D—and it took me a long time to realize this, but I no longer blame myself, the infancy of our relationship, my first trimester, legitimate hormones, the drunk, yet conscious unprotected sex. This is the track my life took. His took another one. He quickly married and had another child. He lives in Indiana. Sometimes I dream about him and in those dreams we are happy and bike riding, but he refuses to see JD. We’ll dissect this more too. I breathe easy knowing I can wake up from these fleeting moments, hug my kid and make coffee. Another day starts. Another day ends.
JD and I are fine and we are not alone.
You’ll read a lot about my insane Italian family on this blog. My parents are divorced. Poppa Coppa (my Dad) is known to visit my condo when I’m working and leave an abundance of food in the fridge. Mema (my mom and the name JD gave her) was the ultimate mom and still is. She baked. She carpooled. She volunteered. She worked. She led the Girl Scouts into the woods and today JD calls her his “best friend.” GF Carlo (my overly-protective big bro and JD’s godfather) texts me 1000 times a day. He came to Hawaii with us in January and proved to be the ultimate travel companion. Uncle Bri (my little, yet linebacker-looking, hippy-ish bro) considers me to be his life coach, yet I learn the most from him. He would give his shirt to a stranger on the street. My family operates on a state of dysfunction that I find normal and funny. There’s best girlfriends that JD calls Aunt [insert name] and bestie parent friends like Amy and Ed who I plan to expose to my full potential on this new blog.
Deep breath…And in a new twist, you’ll probably read about *Joe—a person that came into my life and makes me happy—and that’s all I’ll divulge at this time. My longtime Storked! readers are happy dancing. For the first time in Christine Coppa blog history (haha) you’ll get to read about dating and relationships and everything in between. Well, fingers crossed.
After 5 years of blogging I didn’t think I’d have more to give, but to be continued seems to be a reoccurring theme.
I’m so excited to be here! Pretty please introduce yourself in the comments.
Disclosure: *Joe is a pseudonym for the hot, kind man I am dating. He always smells good and has nice arms. JD finds him entertaining.