Blog or Not?

Okay lurkers, de-cloak and tell me if I should call it quits with this.

In the past few months I have been really struggling with whether or not it makes sense for me and my family to continue the blog.

I need to write, there’s no mistake about that.

And I need to be truthful when I do it.

But I am starting to worry about how this all looks to outsiders.

I see the comments people leave on popular blogs.  (Not that mine is, or ever will be, popular.)

I know how critical the world is and how easily things are taken out of context, mercilessly scrutinized, and then judged unfairly.

I am hard on myself and I don’t always write about my recoveries, you know?

I don’t elaborate on the hugs and the triumphs of my motherhood as much I do on the tantrums and my parenting failures.

I can only imagine what the world thinks of me.

My mom is concerned that those who don’t know me will think the worst, and maybe even use my own writing to somehow harm me or my family.

And maybe I worry about that too.  I’m candid, and it’s usually when I am disappointed in myself.

When I’m at the school, I wonder every minute if the other parents or the teacher or the aides are reading the blog and thinking I’m the worst mom ever.

This morning, a little girl in the line next to ours was playing with a small glass stone.  She brought it to school to show her classmates, but when the bell rang she was tossing it up into the air over and over again and only catching it about half the time.

I told her to put it away.  She asked why and I explained that it could hurt someone if it hit them on the head when it fell.  She was not in the mood to have me tell her what to do.  She continued to throw it behind my back, assuming I had no peripheral vision.

I probably should have said something more to her, but I was suddenly possessed by paranoia because of the blog.  What if all of the adults on the playground read my posts and long ago decided I suck at parenthood?  Maybe none of them would appreciate my attempt at maintaining order in the chaos of the morning playground line-up.  Maybe they would even ask me to leave or keep my mouth shut.  That’s what the blog does to me sometimes.

On other occasions it makes me brave.  I meet moms who seem completely overwhelmed by parenting a special needs child and I feel lucky to have a voice and the courage and skill to use it.  I get what my son needs, wherever we go.  I get what I need.

But I don’t know from moment to moment which of those feelings outweighs the other.  Am I too paranoid?  Or am I confident in how I manage my family and my life?

My mom and I had lunch today and discussed a few related topics.  I have considered ending the blog.  My mom suggested I leave it up and think carefully about whether or not I want to keep doing it.  I asked her if she thought I shouldn’t instead take it down and consider whether or not I want to keep doing it.  I don’t recall that either of us could answer that question.

So I guess that’s what I’m asking all of you.

Should I keep writing the blog?

Should I keep telling you about the dark moments in my parenting?

Should I worry that some jerk with an agenda will one day try to make trouble for me and my family by twisting something I’ve said or judging me out of this greater context?

What do you think?

I really, really want to know.

P.S.  Happy Wednesday.

P.P.S.  I finally finished my book and passed it on to a friend.  Now I’m reading a children’s book by the same author.  It’s probably just as well that it’s meant for kids, because my brain is usually pudding by the time I have a few minutes for leisure reading.

I got both of these titles for under a dollar at the thrift store.  Happy happy smile smile.

P.P.P.S  Did I tell you that I sent my kid to school with a giant safety pin holding his pants together yesterday?  😳  He really wanted to wear them, but they were too big and all of his other pants were in the washer.  If only I had remembered to tell the aide that I’d done it, but I forgot.  I don’t know why I think the blog is such a damning source of my parenting failures.  Seriously?  Can you imagine sending an autistic eight-year-old to school with a giant pin in his waistband?  I didn’t even have to write anything to look bad for that one.  Sigh


Short Long Short Long Cold

My jeans are too short.

I hate this pair, but the other three are in the laundry pile.

Their missing length exposes my giant shoes.

It doesn’t take much to deduce that the giant shoes contain giant feet.

I feel like my secrets are showing.

And I have a love-hate relationship with my shirt.

I like the print.  I like the top half and how it fits.  It also has a good sleeve length, but over all, it’s too short.  Just like the pants.

I feel like an Oompa Loompa.  Because my face is flushed too and that’s sort of like being orange, right?

And I do love chocolate and Gene Wilder.

But not Johhny Depp.  He stresses me out.  I don’t like noticing how hard someone tries to be someone else.  😳  It’s uncomfortable to watch.

I took the little boy for a haircut this afternoon.

I had to call ahead and delicately ask if we could avoid the stylist we had last time.  She botched him up good that day.  I couldn’t let her near him again, but I needed to go to that salon.

It’s the only place close to home that has video games and movies and things to distract him.  He’s used to it and would likely have trouble with someplace new.

That’s why I delicately asked.  The manager completely understood and we had an appointment with her instead.  She was fast and careful.  The boy looks great.

We went to Burger King afterward.  I have grown to really hate fast food restaurants.  Before I stopped eating meat, I went to them all the time and truly, I never considered the consequences.

Now, I can’t think of anything else when I’m in them.  The food does nothing for me nutritionally (except fortify my inner Oompa Loompa) and I am ashamed of the pile of trash we accumulate from just one meal.  Look at this Carl’s Jr. mess from earlier in the week:

At least Burger King has veggie burgers and decent iced tea.  McDonald’s has neither.  McD’s iced tea tastes like old shoes.  Really old shoes.  That belonged to a sewer worker.

Seriously though, the thing that bothered me the most today was the cashier’s fancy manicure.  Since when is it okay for a food service employee to have long, painted fingernails at work?   This girl also had three little rhinestones glued to the tip of each nail.

That in itself was disturbing to me, but nothing prepared me for the gagging reflex I had when I noticed that one of the rhinestones was missing.  All I could think about was whether or not I would find it in my food.  Disgusting.  It used to be that trim, neat and clean was the only way to go for food handlers.  But I guess it’s kind of a stretch to call that stuff food, isn’t it?

Anyway, we survived.

On the way home, we stopped by a vacationing friend’s house to feed the kitties, then we hit the Nestle store for a couple of cookies, and called it a day.

Now the little boy is playing on the computer (in his new haircut) and I am dreaming of my warm pajamas.  It’s really cold outside tonight.  Well, cold for San Diego anyway.  How is it where you are?

Happy Thursday!

P.S.  I know I’ve mentioned my book three times already, but I have to tell you again that it’s really good.  I was so engrossed in one of the steamier paragraphs this afternoon, that I didn’t even realize the stylist was trying to get my attention for a review of the little boy’s lighter locks.  So embarrassing.  😀  It has been a while since I’ve been this captivated by a regular novel.  You know, regular, as in not written by Dr. Seuss or Sandra Boynton or Martha Stewart.  Just regular.  🙂