I have realized that this blog has become something akin to the Strawberry Shortcake diary I had when I was 11. It even had a little lock with a little, tiny key. I hid it under my mattress because I was such a SLY 11-year-old. (I hope my mom enjoyed the reading. My brother told me years later that he certainly did. Brat.)
Like the diary, this blog has become a place to record my extremes. I seem to turn to it when I'm in a mood of some sort- frustrated, or exasperated, or depressed, or just full of myself.
Dear Blog, My husband is gone all the time!
Dear Blog, This has been the worst day!
Dear Blog, my toddler won't eat his vegetables!
Dear Blog, My mom won't buy me the Benetton sweater! She's so mean! (that one is actually from the Strawberry Shortcake diary... vintage 80's)
Waa waa waa...
And I guess that's OK, because this blog is for me anyway, and maybe I have regressed to my 11-year old mentality of needing a place to vent all my strong emotions. Hanging out with a 1-year-old and 3-year-old all day, every day, will do that to you. I've got more strong emotions than stubbly hair on my legs at this stage in my life. (And that's a LOT.) Aside: Brother actually rubbed my leg the other day and said "Furry" in his sweet little voice with a big smile on his face. And then, with an even bigger smile- "Momo!"
Yes, sweetheart- fur. Just like Elmo. At least one male member of the household likes it.
As I was pondering my little blogging revelation, I came across this blog entry. It hits the nail on the head. So go read it, why don't you.
Anyway, I would just like you to know, for the record, that I'm actually a normal person. And that if we were friends, you would find me one of the most laid-back and even-keel women you know. (I hide my feelings very well.)
Happy weekend, and enjoy your glimpse under my mattress.
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About Me
- Susan
- I'm a mama to two little ones: daughter known here as Sister (3 and 1/2) and son known here as Brother (1 and 1/2.) What's the mission? To feed, clothe, and keep the children alive, while also managing to nurture creativity, develop spiritual faith, and have some fun. (And somehow manage to keep the house clean enough to avoid an investigation by social services.)For this blog the mission is to document the daily adventures of life, and hopefully to share and connect with other like-minded mamas. Email me at amamaonamission@gmail.com
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3 comments:
This is great, Susan. And for the record, I never got a Benneton sweater either.
Although, I have to admit that my diaries were filled more with romantic longings that lust for wool. "I love Luke. Luke and Kelly. He's so hot!"
I still have my old journals. I can't quite bring myself to burn them.
This is so funny!
I was never able to keep a diary growing up, I could never make the commitment to write entries with any regularity AND I was the harshest editor, I would come back and read an entry from the week before realizing what a moron I sounded like, I would immediately rip out the page and throw it away for fear that someone else might discover my moronic ramblings!
For this same reason, I can't go back and read old blog posts.
Your furry legs aside is too funny. Caleb loves to do the same thing, although I am his personal cactus, I think I'd rather be elmo :)
Actually, you're the one making ME feel normal. Makes you wonder what's real some days.
Tonight I felt sad and a tiny bit "rejected" by a friend, taking me back to high school, even while my rational, adult self was saying, "it doesn't matter... and anyway, you're doing it again... wildly attributing motives..." And tomorrow I probably won't give it another thought.
I just finished reading Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolfe. I picked it up randomly at the library. This volume had diary entries and letters by the author, along with letters and reviews from friends and admirers. The entire book was just exactly what you wrote here - every single character, all in one day, swung from one extreme in their mind to another with each passing circumstance. It was a weird book in a way, yet reading the thoughts of all these people sounded a lot like the thoughts in my own head from morning to night.
I'm SO glad no one can read MY thoughts! (unless I want them to...) :)
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