The Honeymoon is Over

Way back, at the end of February, on Day Two of this baby blog, I had written "Hey! I blogged! And no one commented that I was an idiot and self-loving! I think I'm going to be OK! Gee, I'm glad I finally worked up the guts to start a blog. This.is.awesome.!"

Well, that lasted, what? 30 odd posts total.

I deleted a post I had up for a few hours yesterday. I had poked fun at living with a teenage son. I adore him, he is my first born, my life began with this boy, but life with someone this age can be funny. I had written some dialogue tidbits, of what it's like, all tongue-in-cheek, about mornings with a surly 14 year old. For me, my life coping skill is humor. If I can find a way to make it funny, I'll be alright.

The first few commenters realized the jest of it all, and smirked along with me, wishing me luck. But, then, the comments turned, and they criticized my son. Another commenter told me few bloggers can write, and I was among those that can't. Yet another felt it pressing and urgent to let me know that she had read the past posts, and they were a waste of time and about nothing. Now, when I visit a blog, and see something that I can't relate to, I just "X" out. Nice and quiet.

My gut reaction was alarm. I didn't want that post up anymore. My son is fantastic, the best there is...what were they saying? So, I deleted it. Then I went to bed, developed a migraine, and spent an hour laying in bed this morning. Do I just take a break? Do I just stop, say I tried it, not for me? And then I thought of all the fantastic people I've met because of beginning this blog. I had to think of that. I also began this blog for me. I really do like to blog.

And my take on life is different, in the same way that the commenters way of providing feedback is different.

Perhaps these commenters think that I actually think I'm an Empress. I don't. Or think that I'm bragging that I have an empire. I don't have an empire. I am a woman, who stays home with my children during the day. I work evenings for a caterer, so I can be home during the day with them. I have a house, with a small backyard; no empire.

Do they think that I imagine myself a fantastic writer? I don't. I am not an English major, I graduated in Special Education. I take care that my posts are literate, and I prepare them, I don't type off the cuff. What I have learned, in my life, is that humor saves me. And kindness unto others, saves me.

Without an excessive amount of detail, I will just say a few things. I feel rushed bringing up these issues, but the commenters have made me think that perhaps I've been misread, with my "Empress" title. I am anything but.

I grew up in the proverbial unhappy household with a verbally abusive, sarcastic mother (let me tell you, those commenters put her voice right back in my head) and the parental suicide. All of my siblings and I have developed a sense of humor to cope with this. People tell us that we are funny, we make them laugh. It's as if we are survivors of something, which, in fact, we are. I work hard to bring humor into our home, and make our children laugh, because I grew up with a mother that did not laugh, or smile, or talk to us, or make eye contact. I'm trying to make up for a lot.

With my traumatic childhood aside, I am now an adult who also has lived through alarming situations that each have shortened my lifespan with every occurrence. Each of my pregnancies were high risk, and I was hospitalized and on bedrest with each one. Despite all these efforts, we have children who were all born early, and each were in NICU, unable to breathe on their own. Once we survived the bedrest, and the preterm labors, our children then developed serious food allergies and asthma. We've come too close to some very serious turn of events in Emergency Rooms that I don't even like to remember. I treasure every day that they're here because of how hard we worked to get them here, and keep them here.

This is all part of my life, but I've forgotten about all these life happenings, until now. This is what I'm from, I don't think I'm an Empress. I'm just joking along, because if you don't laugh, then you'll just stay under the covers.

So, all this to say: I won't close up the blog. The mean lady did come knocking at the door. But so did all the really great friends I've made. So, I'm sticking around. So what if I can't write. Big Deal. It's not awful stuff, it's literate. And from now, I will place a disclaimer at the beginning of my post stating that I love this particular child I'm writing about to the moon and back, but I'm still going to tell you what he did today.

Now, please excuse me, while I go bury my face in their hair. Because I love them, they are everything to me, and I want to be sure they know that.