OK to Blog?

Using the term "blog" as a verb here . . .

So when is it okay to blog about your life when it involves someone else? That's the question on my mind at the moment. There seems to be a line that must be invisible, because I swear I can't see it sometimes.

For example, I'm sure it's okay to blog about my grandmother, if she falls down and breaks her wrist, as she actually did last week. It's one of those things that happens, maybe that person is upset but not embarrassed about it, and it is an event or happening that is on my mind. I worry about her, worry how her surgery went, how she'll heal, how she's handling the anxiety afterward. It doesn't seem to be something in the "gray" area, although I'm sure if I really thought about it, there would be some reasons not to mention it.

What if I'm worried about someone? What if those worries keep me up at night, make me feel depressed and helpless, but involve things that other person may not want to make public? Even if I don't say who it is I'm worried about, that person might feel uncomfortable or even feel betrayed that I discussed them on the internet. I'm guessing that situation is just one I have to bear, since that really isn't fair to someone to discuss their personal business, even if it's an all-consuming anxiety-fest for me.

But here's what I see is a gray area I'm not to clear about. What if, for example, I've done something that affects someone else, but the other person might be embarrassed? What if they've done something to me, but wouldn't want it discussed? What if something someone else does affects my own life, but is really their own business? When are those topics mine to discuss, or off-limits?

I can use the example of my son. I know this is a motherhood blog, in part, and there will be times when I blog about him. But I know I have to protect his privacy as well as his safety, as a parent, and to think about his future. My own mother never had to worry about the details of my life floating about in cyberspace to come back and haunt me in my adulthood. But this is a new century and a new era of technology and communication. How can I bond a public life with a private one? How am I supposed to know when it's acceptable to discuss potty training, for example, a subject that might help other moms out there who might be reading this, and when it's really something I ought to keep to myself? Would my son want me to write about this? Probably not. Should I? Could I? Would I? I don't know. If it might help someone else, maybe it should be all right. But am I wrong?

Of course, my therapist has a way of putting things that simplifies my life to a nutshell at times. Bookended by numerous "qualifying" statements, he said, "You tend to think too much." I think he's right, no pun intended! Then I can drive myself crazy trying to figure out when it's okay to think to much, and when it's not . . .

R

Little things I didn't know . . .

The things that people who do NOT have kids don't realize about those of us who do . . .

Well, I was one of those people without children not too long ago, and I think I really had no clue. I think parents (especially moms) have a way of complaining to their non-parent friends, telling them how HARD it is to have a child, how much work it is, etc--so much so that non-parents tune it OUT--just to make sure that the work they do is appreciated and valued. But it's not something that you can just TELL someone to appreciate or value. And, truth is, it's also a lot more fun than the moms and dads doing the complaining make it out to be, or else more people would be wanting to have children.

But one of the things I've recently learned is that potty training is not just a "when the urge comes" endeavor. It's an all-day affair! Let me tell you, it's a day-long string of potty-related chatter, including phrases like, "Do you need to go yet? Is that a potty dance? Do you need help? I'll sit with you!" and "Good job! All right! Big boy! You're so smart!" Then there's the laundry, the carpet and furniture clean-up, the re-assurances, the coaching, the constant hand-washing! That's not even the half of it! There's negotiating, praise, and a backlog of all of the other tasks you've been unable to fulfill without being interrupted by potty-related business. Just try taking a shower without hearing the phrase, "Uh-oh!" somehow through the spray of water! Unlikely. I'd hear it even if it weren't there, I think!

But then on to the other little thing I didn't know, and that is "why I haven't had a good shave in years!"

I don't think I realized this before, but it's not the razor's fault, the shave gel's, the water's, my lotion's, my cleanser's . . . You see, I finally had a good shave about two days ago. And this was a total surprise to me. I don't think I even totally realized how bad my shaves WERE until this day, but then my legs felt completely smooth, no nicks, and just looked great! Well, my legs would look even better if I hadn't already had a couple dozen nicks and bruises from running into furniture all the time, but I digress.

Anyway, so how did I get this wonderful shave? Simple. It'll never happen again, I'm sure. But this ONE shower, my son just happened to avoid opening the curtain and asking me if I was finished showering. He usually does it repeatedly during the shaving portion of my shower, causing a blast of cold air to prickle my skin with goosebumps, and then ruining my shave! If only I had known it was that simple to get a good shave . . . But will I be able to shower after he goes to bed instead? No. I'm usually cleaning house, washing dishes, and then too tired. In the morning before he wakes up? Ha. Forget about it. In the middle of the day, when he's napping? Surely you jest. He never naps! So I guess that'll be my last good shave for a while. Too bad it's rainy, and not even good weather for shorts.

Well, I'd better return to the many chores of the day. I will be back soon for more tales of motherhood and the observations that come from being mentally ill. I mean, who else notices this stuff? Anybody? But then, aren't we all weird in our own ways.

Take care, all!

R

Still no sleep.

I keep trying, but I guess I still have some anxiety over the pain in my abdomen. I just don't know what it is, and it's starting to make me panic a bit, I think. When it hurts as I'm trying to fall asleep, I start thinking of all of the things it could be, and then I can't sleep anymore. It's easy to let your fears get out of control, just as easy as it is to let your sadness take hold.

But I can try to get an appointment with my doctor soon, I have to wait and call the office tomorrow. Then lose sleep as I wait for the appointment, then panic as I wait for test results . . . I'm sure I won't be sleeping for a while.

Then I think I hear my son cry during the night, like his injection site is bothering him. I think maybe the Tylenol wore off, and he needs a new dose. But he slept fine, and took some Tylenol this morning. He's playing and rambunctious, as usual. But the mom instincts don't stop, the worry finds it's way into my daily life for a full 24 hours a day.

This is my definition of motherhood, by the way. Motherhood: A state of constant and intense worry, punctuated by moments of unimaginable emotional bliss. That's really what it is to me. The unprecedented bliss is what I live for, and it's worth all of the worry.

Well, that's my rambling for the day. Hope to hear from some people out there, just so I don't feel like I'm talking to myself or lost in cyberspace. No pressure, though. When you're ready. :)

Till then, take care. Blog ya later.

R

Getting some sleep . . .

. . . finally!

My son got the immunization that he was supposed to have gotten on Monday, and now I can stop losing sleep over it. I really hate when he has to get shots, partly because I have to stand there helplessly while someone injures my boy, and partly because I never know what kind of reaction he will have afterward. Will there be fevers, pains, fussiness, lack of appetite? I don't know. And it could make my week a lot tougher, caring for him and trying to care for myself in the meantime.

Well, it went fine. He got a lollipop and all was well. He has had soreness and lack of appetite, but that's about all. Some Tylenol and he's fine. I hate hearing him cry and even beg for medicine, it just seems very sad. And I feel like an evil witch for having subjected him to such torture quite voluntarily, no matter what the benefits of immunizations are. I still feel evil after that. So then I spoil him with a happy meal and a book from Half Price. He was very excited about that.

And my other errands got done this week, too, including getting my prescriptions set up with the new insurance and talking to the doctor about my abdominal pain. He pretty much passed the buck on to my ob/gyn, but at least I talked to him about it. I hope the gynecologist knows what to do. I really dread another health care battle like I had with the hypothyroidism. I hope they can figure out what's wrong without my having to beg them, and plead with them to believe me that something is indeed wrong with me. I hope. I will probably lose sleep over this, now that E is fine. I guess there's always something.

Well, I guess I can hit the hay, or at least try. Until next time, g'night.

R