Blogs Are Stupid

Doesn't anyone believe in Dear Diary anymore? What happened to the joy of putting actual pen to paper? And why does every ordinary Jane and John think they can write well enough to burden the world with their scribblings? It’s a mystery that badly needs solving. My first entry contains my thoughts about blogging and will set your expectations. The rest will probably be stream of consciousness garbage, much like you’ll find on any other blog. Perhaps we will both come away enlightened.

Saturday, June 25, 2011


As you may have surmised, I was pretty tightly wound yesterday.

I tried not to think about the number on the calendar and the celebration that wasn't taking place. I didn't want to cry. Friends, I tell you, I am so very, very weary of tears. So I wrote yesterday's entry and then I tried to pretend it was just any other day. The funny thing about's easy to pretend to other people; not so easy to pretend to yourself. And heartbreak doesn't go away just because you refuse to acknowledge it.

Later in the day, a friend called, needing a favor, which was a good distraction and allowed me to further distance myself from the pain of wanting of my Mommy.

Isn't it peculiar how that never leaves us? We bring babies into this world, battle sickness and banish darkness and brave ever new frontiers as parents and as people...and yet...when we are afraid and unsure and a little bit's our Mothers that we think of and long for. When I was giving birth to my first child, lost in a haze of pain nearly unbelievable and almost certainly unbearable, though my husband held my hand and bathed my brow and even held the basin as I was my mother I wanted. Then, as now, I knew it was impossible, but it didn't stop the wanting. I don't think it will ever stop.

So though I went through my day dry eyed and efficient as always; chauffered my children, tended to my friend, taught my was all a charade, and a fairly tenuous one at that.

I came home from my class exhausted and sweat soaked. Husband had prepared dinner while I was gone, which has become the custom on nights that I teach. The meal was delicious and the hour was late; we all ate heartily. Husband cautioned us to save some room, as he had bought a special treat for dessert. I sighed and ran a hand through my still damp hair, trying to summon the energy to drag myself upstairs to bathe. It was then that husband placed this in front of me with a small flourish:

Of course you know what happened then. Taken by surprise, I could do nothing but bury my face in my hands and sob. While I cried into my palms, Husband and the boys each shared with me their favorite memory of my Mother and vowed to celebrate her life instead of mourning her loss.

And so I ask can I bitch about toothpaste splatters on the bathroom mirror when he does crap like this?????????

Do you SEE the problem here? The man leaves me with a woeful lack of ammunition for future marital battles.

Goddamn him.


  • At 8:57 PM, Blogger Fi said…

    Oh your man should be bottled and sold. This bought tears to my eyes too.

    What a special way to remember your mum and what a wonderful family you have.

    Don't you love when they do infuriatingly endearing things?

  • At 8:54 AM, Blogger Amy Sue Nathan said…

    I'm so happy to find that you're blogging again. You haven't lost your touch -- not that you could lose that writerly thing you've got going on.


  • At 10:57 AM, Blogger Amy Y said…

    He is so awesome... He would have to be, to catch a girl like you :)

  • At 12:33 PM, Blogger Just Words On A Page said…

    What an utterly lovely, and amazing thing to do for you. And you know what, tears are for a purpose, it's okay to be sad, it's okay to cry. It's really okay to miss your mommy.

  • At 7:56 PM, Blogger heidig said…

    Yup, he made me cry too. It'll get easier - hard to believe but it will.


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