The thing about this blog... no matter what kind of horrendous day I've had, no matter how filthy my kitchen floor, this place is always lovely and pristine. Sure blogger may get fritzy and have the occasional Smenita, but I never have to clean up after anyone outside of the occasional spammer in the old comments section. Even that is perversely satisfying because once you get rid of it?... that particular hunk of spamola? It stays gone! No one's diggin' that bad boy out of the trash or the rag-bag, aghast look upon their angelic faces...
"Mamaaaaaaa! Dat myyy! No fwoah away inna dahh-badge!"
I love it! Once I post it it stays posted. I don't have to re-post the same blasted hunk of literary crap eight times a day to keep it comfortable and /or smelling nice.
My failures even read pretty OK in bold black print on my cheerful sunflower template of joy... sometimes I like to go back and re-read the things that I have written, because with just a joke and a tweak I have downplayed the tears and made my role as a mother seem almost comprehensible. By taking my whole-being frustrations and putting them into words have forced them into sentence structure that I CONTROL.
and I gots me some spell check... don't always use it, but I've got it when I need it.
But a blog is like a photo. While it's great that you can make your life seem interesting and pretty with some good lighting and a little bit of Photoshop, without the panoramic 360 and the smell-o-vision of reality you will never really know what it is to awaken with LaLa snugged up close to you, as you breathe in her wispy, honey colored hair. Never have a true sense of her heart thump-thumping away in her Popsicle stick ribcage... a small but valiant heart which owns me through and through.
My little Birdie. I haven't even attempted to address her odd little speech quirk, or is it an impediment?... that sometime nasal thwump and sometimes almost Yiddish throat clearing sound that she makes when pronouncing her "S's." I know that some day this quirk will be gone, and though I know it cannot stay, I will mourn it's going. Sometimes I look at her and feel like I am dying... I still go in a night to watch her sleep.
and the baby, what with the intoxicating baby smell, and the not sleeping when I want her to, and the vile game of POP that she plays when nursing... yeah Pearl, I mean YOU.
The other day Dadguy said to me, "you might want to watch it. Sometimes on your blog when you refer to the girls as the "Chaos Girls" it's like you aren't joking anymore."
I said, "how very astute of you."
I can feel all righteous and penitent by mentioning that I have been a bit of a crusty bee-hatch, and most all of y'all will obligingly assume the best... um, except for Dadguy who knows for a fact what flavor of bee-hatch I have been! But you never can tell with bee's, and it's hard to think the worst of someone you either are related to (hey there ya CRAZIES!) or that you only know cyberly. Only now Amber has met me in RL and I can only hope I didn't come off as too much of a drip. Which by the way Amber? I promise, next time I will be waaay more interesting or clean the house or something! Ha ha, or something. Can I offer you some Cheerios?
14 comments:
"wispy, honey colored hair" "Popsicle stick ribcage" "Sometimes I look at her and feel like I am dying" Love all this. It made my head hurt it was so beautifully written.
I keep reading about blog peeps meeting each other and I am so jealous. I live way out here in the middle of Canada. Not close to anyone I read and would love to meet!
YAY! I did meet you and the chaos girls and it was fab. I'm just sorry it was short and sweet. I felt right at home with the diaper changing in the living room and the naked girls everywhere. My clean house is a figment of your imagination. I only take pictures of it clean (well, mostly.) Trust me when I say I get it. I really do. I like the 'cleanliness' of the blogging and the internet. I love not having to redo things. It's a wonderful thing. My DH cleaned while I was gone. REALLY cleaned. I've not brought in any bags yet because I don't want to mess that up. How bad is that??
We CLEANED the basement last weekend - the kids don't even want to play down there because they are afraid that I'll yell if they make it a total mess...
I like my house clean, but it never is...in bloggerville - everyone is the bestest housewife, mommy, and everything.
In real life - I have dirty dishes in the sink - a pile of laundry that needs to be washed and a bathroom floor that needs to be scrubbed - instead - I am blogging...and I need to pack for the weekend - and have no desire to do it.
OK, so, in MY real life, my MOTHER paid for an organizer to come and help me out with the growing pile of landfill that is my daughters' room. It sounds uber posh, it's not -- my MOTHER hired her. I mean, who has money for that?!
And I call my babies the Agents of Chaos -- or AOC, for short. I borrowed this from another online friend -- it is entirely too apt.
When you come to my house, don't be surprised if you get frostbite from my dinner choices.
Your problem is, you know how to write, woman! You can express youself - entirely too well, I might add.
I love it! and I luves you, Mama-woman!
oh bon. don't you know how we're living seperate same lives. one of the chaos girls at my house is leaving a trail of pee and calling it potty training. heaven help me.
It's funny about blogs. I always imagine everyone sitting around in their perfect homes, sipping cocoa and patting their kids on the head. It doesn't matter how bad they describe things, I sort of romanticize other people. Seriously, it's weird.
Happy 100, BTW. I love your blog.
But, Bon, you do remember, don't you that you are the NOSE? And have been since at least age 6. There was a day when I ventured to vacume behind the couch and amoung the midden heap there found money (a tip left for the maid, no doubt) and a brand new wrapped watermellon flavored jolly rancher candy. So of courseI dusted it off on my apron and ate it. Later, probably a half hour later, you entered, sniffed the air across the room from me and announced "I smell watermellon". So when I hear you say that something about your house stinks, I have to laugh. NObody but you or a blood hound could smell it. Clutter, yes. Smell, no. Love you, the dadguy, and the caos mongers..... Mother (been there done that) Superior
Happy 100!
And as Mama D already said, your language in the above is amazing and lyrical. I love the way you talk about the girls.
And this description: "that sometime nasal thwump and sometimes almost Yiddish throat clearing sound that she makes when pronouncing her "S's." -- love it. I can almost hear her talking now. :-)
Back again to say -- you're tagged! Check out my latest post for info.
And boy am I glad you're here. I have really enjoyed getting to know you this past year.
Would you like a whiff of my baby's intoxicating smell? It doesn't smell like chicken!
Ok just shot you an email.....you won the friday flip-up award this week!! Congrats!!
What a fantastic 100th post! I love how you describe your daughter. :)
I've met a blogger friend recently too. Pretty neat, isn't it?
Thanks for participating in my "Hooray for 100!" link exchange.
Please spread the word, I'd appreciate it!
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