Simple thoughts from a simple work-at-home mom with a stay-at-home-mom complex.Semi simple thoughts.Reasonably simple...ok, not really all that simple.
We all know (or we should) that anything that is posted online is going to live forever. OK, it might not, but we should treat everything that we post online as if it were to live forever. We should also assume that the person we would least want to see it, will. Remembering those two things will ensure that online life stays fairly drama free.
If we wanted to add on another thought- we should remember Rule 34: if it exists, there is porn of it. I'm not into that, but I twist the rule around a bit to remind myself that whatever I put on here, this blog that gets only nominal hits, can be used for gross and perverse acts. I do put some pictures of my children here, because I use this space to keep far flung family and friends caught up on their antics. And some of those pictures are funny. And this is sort of a family memory space.
So I try to think of any possible outcome of my words, and I weigh the pros and cons before posting things on here. Obviously, I can't think of every outcome, but live with my choices to post.
Sometimes I look at my stats (they are on the rise, thanks for reading!) and today I found this way down the list of searched words that landed people here:
The post that linked to this one was a tale I recounted back in 2009 of a sweet older woman who helped get me into some icy Maine water. But the only picture on that post was this:
Not the older woman who got me into the water, but me in my (arguably) old lady swimsuit and sarong sitting on the beach in Maine.
Sigh.
Now I have to wonder if that is the old lady on the beach image that someone was looking for....and if there is an application of Rule 34 of it floating around the webs.
On the flip side, when I AM an old woman I will have this to look back on as me in my younger years. Maybe I won't cringe.
Today Bekah and I went shopping. It was a rare trip for the two of us, usually one, or both, of the boys come along. But today, it was just us girls traipsing through Walmart, Target, a resale shop and two grocery stores. (What? I like to spread my retail expenditures all around.)
The first two stores are necessary evils as far as I am concerned. When the highlight of the trip is a new shower curtain, you know it's low on the thrill scale. Also, the music was so horrid, I won't even comment on it.
As we shopped in the first grocery store, it was disco music that got us. This store plays 70 and 80's music loudly, which tells me that they know me. OK, it tells me that they know their demographic and I am it. My teenage daughter knows some of this music, mostly because she hangs around with me. And because she hangs around with me, she has learned to not be embarrassed. Embarrassment is futile. It won't stop me, and probably will encourage me.
Her motto: What the hell, do as Mom does.
We did our best disco moves in the bread aisle. Although, my Tony Manero saunter to the check out lines probably will appear on the Shoppers- Cam Blooper Reel at the next store employee party.
At the second grocery store they like to play more recent (last ten years) pop music. As we were leaving, pushing the final cart out of the final store into the incinerator disguised as a parking lot, we both started head banging at the same moment. And not in a subtle mature way either. Hair flying head banging. Hang onto the cart, Mama or you will fall over head banging. At the end of the chorus my daughter turned to me, laughed and said, "I love us." Heart melted like ice cream in that parking lot. Heart melt. I love us, too.
Am I blog fading? Taking a long, slow spiral to non-postland?
No.
Have I been hospitalized or have I experienced a painful demise of key electronics?
No.
Have I been working on some really exciting new project that I'm just waiting for the right time to reveal?
No, not really. Sadly. That would have been a great excuse, but no, the reason I haven't posted isn't as exciting. It's my kids. They are fine, but active. And loud. And home.
We are planning a special vacation later this summer, one of those when personal history meets new adventures meets a really beautiful location with a lot of people who are dear to us. But this vacation is sucking up all our fun money (not that we had a lot of that to begin with), and we can't really afford many fun jaunts in the meantime. So the kids and I have been home. Together. Doesn't that sound like fun? (It can be, but usually it's not. And, before you ask, it doesn't equal a really clean house either)
So I have been home and distracted by three very different children- one of them likes to watch reality shows with me (Oddities is our newest one);one likes to make videos of him playing video games; and one likes to read, and if I sit down to read my books at the same time, she smiles. To her, this is spending quality time together.
We have been hanging out at home. except when the boys played baseball. The long, hot and painful (to me) season just ended. Luke didn't have his greatest year playing wise, and Noah is starting to figure out how to play well and hates to lose. Luke was a great sport who didn't have a good season; Noah was a poor sport who had a pretty good season that ended with a heartbreaking nail-biting final game.
Luke has moved on to football, Noah has moved on to memorizing everything about Indiana Jones. And me/ I'm opening up the projects that have sat dormant for a couple of months. Re-reading them, re-editing them and maybe one of these days one of them will morph into one of those exciting new projects that I can share.
The other day I was wondering why I am having such a hard time getting work done this summer. I carried on about it in a post: I feel like I am chasing my tail, getting nothing done but being exhausted from the actions.
Then I saw the forest through the trees.
OK, THEN I mixed metaphors- which is pretty much how I have been feeling this summer, so it works. But I came to see if there are any comments (you like to read, not write, I get it) and my eyes fell to the blog header.
The name of this blog. The tagline of this blog. THAT is why I am having such troubles. If the kids are home, then I am a SAHM. That is the job that needs so much of my energy. The kids questions, wants, and presence are the top and middle of my To Do List. That's what my head is telling me, anyway. (And my wallet, too, since a lot of what I do isn't exactly a huge revenue creator)
Can someone explain this to me: My kids are now older- 15, 13 and 7. They don't require a great deal of supervision, and the older two are more than capable of taking care of the younger one for long stretches of time. They can be given complicated lists of chores and will complete them with minimal nagging.
None of them need me to entertain them, constantly keep an eye on where they are or scan the room for dangerous objects. If I provide ingredients they can create a meal and feed themselves and- on a good day- clean up their own messes. I never vacuum, and rarely do the laundry on my own any more. It's that sweet spot of time when they are still home, still look to me for guidance, still enjoy being with me but don't have to.
Yes, they make dumb choices sometimes. Rare is the day when Luke and Noah aren't sopping wet from the hose or water-ammo'd firearms by noon. They squabble and need a referee. They want an ear to share a tale of teen drama woe. But, for the most part, they are pretty self sufficient. At least more-so than they have been for their entire lives thus far.
So, how come I don't have more free time this summer? In theory I should have almost as much Susan Scheduled Work Time as I had when they were in school. I should be editing that thing I wrote a few months ago. I should be writing more posts on here. I should have ample time to research podcast topics. I should be ...I should be... I should be.
But no.
It has been a non-stop activity fest around here. Door slamming, "MOOOOOM" screaming, "Can I.." filled days. Some fun, some filled with projects, some not much more than a whole lot of taxiing kids hither and yon. Busy. And not at all what I thought this summer would be like.
Last week I took what felt like a big step. I wrote my final regular post on the site that has been very kind to me for the past couple-plus years, M2MKC ( That link will take you to my final post). I had thought about it for a very long time, weighed everything that I have going on in my life and made the decision.
When I found out that one of my friends would be taking the spot, I was so thrilled for her. It wasn't that long ago that I was in her (writing) shoes and the exposure a spot like that gets is invaluable in so many ways. And her name is Susan! It's still Susan Saturday!
But I wasn't sure how I would feel when I saw someone in "my" spot. I do have a touch of competitiveness, would I feel that way toward someone I am supportive of?I would hate myself if I did so I was worried about hating myself.
Friday, after recording a podcast, and taxiing kid to baseball I had a moment of panic that I was missing a deadline. But no, I wasn't. I used the extra time to work on another project that I have mid-completion.
Saturday morning I sat down at my computer, took a deep breath and clicked. And felt.....happy. Happy for the other Susan. Happy for the mutually beneficial arrangement she and this site that I feel loyal to now have. I feared ugly emotions, and got beautiful ones.
This past week I have gotten some notes from people asking what my plans are. I was touched, but not ready to share because I don't have anything to share. Nothing concrete anyway. But I know this: I am in need of something substantial and am willing to do the work to make it happen.
Whatever "it" is.
Change is in the air, but still off in the distance. I'm ready for it, though.
So...I gave in to curiosity and read 50 Shades of Grey. (More on that another time) (maybe)
ANYWAY...I read it, now I see it everywhere. Which is, mostly, not terrible- usually it's kind of giggle inducing (the most wonderful sound on earth, right? Yeah, you read it, too, I can tell).
Every time I take a sip of wine, I think,"it's crisp and sweet".
If I have to kneel on the floor for something (like to clean out under the sofa), I stop, put my hands on my thighs, lower my head and then I giggle because I am alone and look like an idiot.
When I'm doing the laundry, and get to my delicates, I almost hurl thinking of someone sniffing them. On purpose. Gigglehurl.
I giggle because I am immature like that.
Today, with the passing of Maurice Sendak, I took out my copy of Where the Wild Things Are.
The copy that I own was the copy that my mother read to my brothers and me as kids. When I moved out of my folks house as an adult, I swiped it along with a couple of other beloved children's book - Trumpet of the Swan, Charlotte's Web, Peter Pan, Jonathan Livingston Seagull (don't judge). When I had children of my own many years later, these are the copies that I shared with them (and will lock up when they move out of the house- Nuts. Tree. Fall.)
I took out the thin book with the sleeping Beast and the tiny sailboat on the cover, and marveled that it had survived all these years. It may be a first edition, I can't tell, but it was written the year I was born and Mom was really into books. I could see her getting it as soon as she heard about it. The edges are a little worn, but no pages are ripped. It's a miracle, really. Six childhoods, almost 50 years and no ripped pages?
I sat down to read it, thinking about what a gift this story was. How Max getting into trouble, being sent to his room for being naughty,and escaping via his imagination mirrored many a night in my own early life.
How Mom still loved him when he returned.
I read the book this morning and got misty imagining Mr. Sendak writing the story. I looked at the illustration detail of the Wild Things, and smiled at the innovation for the times.
And then I read the last sentence and cursed myself for reading 50 Shades of Grey. There are so many good books out there, and this is what I chose to spend my reading time on? I chose to put the details of 50 Shades into my brain along with such cherished memories like the ones surrounding all my childhood favorite literary memories?
I really am an idiot.
So today I am filling it with good things that have already been written, spoken, filmed. And then I will let my brain speak to me through my fingers and see what happens. My only hope is that there is more good in there than not.
