On the Record

Yesterday, I wrote a post about a conversation that took place between my friend and I. Fearing E.O. would appear at my doorstep with flowers and candy, I decided to pull the post within an hour of publishing. After all, I’m an ice cream kind of gal. Flowers and candy do not impress me, and I didn’t want to risk finding out E.O. is lactose intolerant.

I’ve written and published 290 posts since beginning this blog in January 2010. Prior to last night, I had not pulled any posts.

When I tried to go to bed last night, my mind went into overdrive. I had visions of me walking around with a notebook and cassette recorder, talking with friends and family. During discussions, my friends and family would ask, “Are you putting this conversation on the record?” As the scenes in my head played out, I noticed conversations began to come to a halt whenever I walked into a room. Continue reading “On the Record”

Regrets Possibly Pending

I have received many comments about my blog. Not surprisingly, some people worry that I share too much. When I started writing the blog, my husband’s main request was that I maintain a line of privacy – of sorts – with regards to how much information I share. And, according to my husband, I have not yet crossed the line (though I’ve come close); but recently, my husband did ask me to delete one picture I included in a post, and I deleted the photo without hesitation.

Earlier this week, I read another blogger’s post about things best left unsaid or unpublished. In fact, I read the post several times. And, though I do not fully agree with the author, I understand the points she is trying to make. And, I do believe her words should be heard, if only to keep things in perspective. So, I made myself hear her, and I made myself reflect on my writings. Are my regrets pending? Will I look back, when my boys are teenagers, college students, etc. and feel regretful for exposing my life (and the lives of my family) to countless people? Will the feelings of my sons be hurt, because I wrote about a day (or month) when they drove me crazy?

No, the boys do not have a say in what I choose to share. No, I am not asking them for permission to write about their life. Does this make me a bad Mom? Some may answer ‘yes’, but I answer ‘no’. I don’t know what my boys will think about what I have written and what I will write. I hope the boys find my writing funny and entertaining. And, I hope my boys find the serious posts heartfelt and honest, even if it hurts. [Note to self: Be prepared to read the previous sentence directed at you, when the boys release their ‘Tell All’.]

This life of mine is my reality. I am living my reality. And, I am doing the best I can for myself, my husband and my kids. There is not a doubt in my mind that my current reality is manageable because I write about it. This blog was created the beginning of this year, and though the I still run into speed bumps, I am in a far better place today, in part, because of my writing.

Today – October 20, 2010 – hundreds of thousands of young people across the USA are wearing purple to call attention to the deaths of six youths who committed suicide after they were bullied or harassed because they were gay or were thought to be gay. I mention the ‘day of purple’, because many of the bullying takes place in cyberspace via YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, etc. One need not be gay to be bullied; moreover, one need not be bullied or gay to consider and/or commit suicide.

What does the above have to do with my writing? I believe one benefit to writing is letting others know they are not alone. In the past, I’ve written about my own suicidal thoughts. In fact, when I wrote my blog about that dark period, some of my friends reminded me they didn’t like it when I went through that stage the first time, and they didn’t like reading about it again. Why? Because it made them uncomfortable. Words are powerful, whether spoken or written. Words are supportive, whether spoken or written. As cheesy as this may sound, words can be used for good or evil. When I write, I am trying to use my words for good. And, I hope my boys will learn something from my experiences, regardless of the actual experience. [Note to my boys: The previous sentence is not to be used as an excuse for you to feel it is OK to experience everything you want to in life, not while you are living under your parents’ roof. Keep it legal and safe, boys; and, follow directions.]

The blog I read earlier this week, that inspired my post today, dealt with a girl stumbling across a Christmas letter her Mom had written. The girl was hurt by the words her Mom wrote. I think it is important to add that this person found her Mom’s letter by accessing the Word document and figuring out the secret password. This was not some random letter her Mom left out for all to see; although, it was the Christmas letter . . .

Still, it brings me to another point, when your feelings are hurt because you went out of your way to find the meanness, you looked in nooks and crannies that did not belong to you, you picked the locked which was intended to keep the thoughts private – is it fair to attack the writer? And, that is a question I ask myself, because I wrote You are what you seek after I felt bullied by someone. But, in my post, I made the point that I was responsible for going out of my way to find the mean words. I sought it out – found it – didn’t like it – and wrote about it. In addition to calling out the person, I was calling out myself. I was holding myself accountable for actively putting my nose where it didn’t belong.

Being a bully is wrong. Using words (spoken or written) to hurt is wrong. Again I ask myself, will I regret these posts in the future? I don’t think I will. And, I don’t think my boys will react negatively to what I have written or may write in the future. Time will tell. In the meantime, I will continue to live this reality as I know it, making sure my husband and boys know I love them with all my heart, even when I have bad days.

Then again, aside from knowing I love my family, what do I know? I currently have two part-time jobs, one of which is from 11pm until 7am, two nights a week. The lack of sleep is turning my brain to mush. When I started this post, I am sure I had a point, but the point may have been lost – like my sleep. Oh, and if you are interested in reading the post I mentioned titled “Things best left unsaid (or at least unpublished), you may do so by clicking here. Good night. Oh wait. I’m working tonight. *sigh*

Fun’ny’ Friday

While enjoying the morning of Mother’s Day, Joe scurried around handing me cards and small gifts. One of the lasts gifts he gave me was his Leapster. “Mommy,” he said. “For Mother’s Day, you can use my Leapster whenever you want today, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. But, you have to stop using it on Sunday.”


Last Thursday, Rob and I learned a neighbor was struggling with financial issues and house repairs. In an attempt to to fund the house repairs, the neighbors were having a yard sale and looking for donated items to include in the sale. We immediately went through our things and pulled out items to include in their sale.

While in the kitchen, I opened the cabinet where we keep most of our pots and pans. I asked Rob, “What can we do without in here?” Without skipping a beat, he answered, “All of it.”

We laughed. Though we have several pots and pans, we use the same two pots nightly: one pot for the canned vegetable, and one pot for boiling water for the mac n’cheese. Go ahead, send your condolence cards to Rob, as his wife neglects him, culinarily speaking.


As I have said, driving to swim lessons makes for fun times in the car. I enjoy hearing Joe and Charlie chatting back and forth. Joe, true to his big brother role, tries to teach Charlie many things. Last night, while tucking Joe in bed, he said “Mommy, tomorrow we need to teach Charlie the difference between today, yesterday and tomorrow.”

Earlier this week, both Joe and I were trying to teach Charlie right and left. While driving down a curvy road, Joe said “Charlie, now the car is going left.” “Well,” Joe added, “the back of the car is going right.” Something tells me, Joe may have lost Charlie with that added bit of info.


On my way to work, I drive by a high school. As one might expect, traffic is slow around the high school in the morning. I don’t mind the slow pace of traffic, because it gives me a chance to check out the latest clothing styles, based on high school students. And, it is quite entertaining to observe the various styles or lack thereof.

Good shoe fashion, especially the style on the right.

I am not hip to fashion or style. My dressing attire is often bland and ordinary. Come Spring and Fall, I get kinda crazy and wear socks with sandals. [Happily, my boys have picked up on my socks and sandals fashion sense.] I understand socks with sandals are frowned upon by many. That’s fine. And, though no one asked for my opinion, I believe the socks with sandals look is far better than some other shoe styles I see.

Flashy sneakers, untied and too big – this is a hip look? Really? Worn-out, flattened flip flops dragging across the ground. Really? That’s a stylish look that is better than socks with sandals? I don’t get it. Though, I do remember a guy in high school, Ben. He was (still is) older than I, and he wore flip flops to school. I remember thinking his flip flops were cool. Unlike the flip flops I see on kids today, Ben’s flip flops were thick, leather flip flops. [Why do I even remember Ben, Class of ’85? Goodness knows, he doesn’t know me. *sigh*]


Well, that about does it for me today. I hope you all have a lovely weekend. We have a great deal planned here, which may make for some interesting babbling next week. Or not. I’ll end with a joke I heard on Sesame Street this morning [don’t ask].

A bone shares a joke with Matthew Fox and Elmo:
“What do you call a bone with two scoops of ice cream on it?” The bone asks.
“I don’t know,” answers Matthew. “What?”
The bone responds, “An ice cream bone!”  ba’dum bum. (No, I didn’t get it either.)
Then Matthew says, “Oh, that must be a funny bone.” ba’dum bum, ching!

Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all weekend. Toodles!