I've had this here blog for three years and almost four months. In that time I've had two kids, bought a new camera, moved twice, and spilled more than a lot of shit. All from the safe, mostly anonymous space behind my monitor. Sure, a few of you know my face, but judging from my site meter thingamajig most of you wouldn't know if my eyes are green or blue or brown.
(They are a greenish hazel, BTW.)
Recently, though, my readership population dynamic shifted a little. I've been seeing more and more little dots in the south western corner of PA, and a few dots in central Florida, and some over in the UK.
What I mean to say is, my family is reading.
(Hi mom and dad! And Danny! And Uncle Rick!)
I never sought to hide my blogging from them, I just was never one to shout it from the rooftops. I always assumed that they would find it eventually. Because of that (and because I was raised by the 'if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all' school of thought) I try as hard as possible to never write anything here that I wouldn't want to read aloud in front of a roomful of elderly relatives. Mostly. I've always thought that, aside from a few diatribes on my father-in-law, I've been mildly successful.
But.
Now knowing that my father is clicking by every now and again, I cringe at the number of times I've written about my boobs. And my period. And did you know that I have one hundred and thirty-two entries with the tag 'mental' on it? That should make the parents proud, right?
And what about this?!? Seriously, what does this say about me as a person?
The good news? They like it. Well, at least my mother does. And my brother does too, I think. (He does, however, want to write a guest post about himself because he thinks I made him sound too much like a rock star.) My mother called last night to tell me how much she enjoys reading about my boring, mundane life. Even though she probably couldn't tell it, I was a little misty on the other end of the line. Why? Because what little girl doesn't want her mommy to like the picture she drew/song she sang/story she wrote? Just because we're all grown up doesn't mean we don't care about what our mothers think.
(Note to self: Remember this in about twenty years.)
Thanks, mom.
6 comments:
My mom called me today to tell me that she liked what I wrote about gay marriage. I was all squishy inside. You're right, all i want at the end of the day is the same thing I wanted when I was five.
Most of my family doesn't read because they think what I write is disgusting or inappropriate, so consider yourself very blessed.
My sister reads mine on occasion, which is fine. But my super-Catholic aunt reads mine, well, religiously. I forget that sometimes until she brings it up. It kind of weirds me out even though I don't write anything family couldn't know.
my Dad and Sister and some aunts read it....which is why I keep another xanga blog! ;-) Who would have ever thought we'd want our parents reading our journals!
Oops, deleted that by mistake! What I said was:
My parents are still using dial-up *gasp*, so while I don't mind if they read my main blog, I don't really think of that as a probability. My sisters, however, do read my crap, and I'm fairly certain that the other "AZ" connections that show up on my sitemeter are in-law related. Which keeps it all very nice and PC. Most of the time. Which may go a long ways towards explaining why I'm now in therapy...
Yes, its a dilemma but I don't want to alienate my only really regular readers!!! Thanks Ma.
Post a Comment