Sunday, November 7, 2010

I'm Changing My Name

Apparently, I decided to reward myself for my one-year blog-o-versary by taking a month off from blogging. My bad.

Really, I've been doing you a favor. For the past month, my thoughts have been more jumbled than coherent, more intense than lighthearted, more fall than spring - and I am so not a fall. So consider yourself spared a bunch of self-indulgent, melodramatic poetry full of cliche' metaphors about changing seasons and dying gardens and blahblahblah. You're welcome. (Note to self: buy Seasonal Affective Disorder lamp stat.)

Also, I hate to admit this because it goes against everything I believe as a writer, but for the past month, I have been self-editing my work before it ever hits the page. I once had a friend suggest that I write an anonymous blog, that I'd be more free to truly express myself if I didn't worry about what family members, friends and colleagues thought about my work. Puh-lease. I haughtily asserted that at 40, by damn darn, I am entitled to express who I am, without reservation. I don't respect people who hide under pseudonyms, and I've earned the right to write my story, my way.

Then I discovered my daughter's middle school friends are regularly reading my blog. In class, no less (Hey, this is Kentucky. At least they're reading!).

Well, shit shoot! See? Now you understand my dilemma.

Oh, it gets worse. Cool mo-fo Mom that I am, I drive a minivan (whatever. Haters gonna' hate). So each time I pick up my daughter from school, I end up with at least five other kids in the car asking for rides home or trips to Starbucks. Truly, I don't mind driving the short bus. In fact, I welcome the opportunity to know the kids my daughter hangs out with (who, I'm sure, are very, very, very good kids, who would never, ever, ever do anything remotely immoral, illegal or unethical around my daughter ... or ELSE).

While I'm happy for the readership (hook 'em while they're young!), my blog now lends itself to unfortunate conversations like this:

Daughter's male friend: Hey, Mrs. Reese! Thanks for the ride.
Me: No problem.
DMF: By the way, I just love your blog. That post you wrote on vajazzling? That was hi-larious!
Me: [Awkward silence]
Daughter: [palm to forehead]

So, so sorry, dear daughter. If it makes you feel any better, I just had a conversation with my mother that went like this:

Mom: What did you guys do this week?
Me: Nothing much. The football coaching staff and spouses had a get-together the other night.
Mom: Any special reason?
Me: Not really. Just trying to blow off some steam after a stressful season.
Mom: So did you all get naked in a jacuzzi?
Me: What the hell heck, Mom?
Mom: Isn't that how everyone blows off steam? They get naked in jacuzzis? I mean, that's what your dad and I do.

I learned a few things from this conversation. One, my daughter isn't the only one with an embarrassing mother (yet I doubt that discovering she also has an embarrassing grandmother makes her feel any better). And two, I am 99 percent sure my mother was kidding, but if she wasn't, my brother needs to bleach his jacuzzi post-haste.

Three, I just remembered that my parents read my blog. I am so screwed in trouble.

Look for a new blog coming soon to a pseudonym near you!


  1. I agree with your friend that somehow, consciously or unconsciously, you will consider your audience when you write. And ahm... I'd love to read some of that melodramatic poetry, just in respect of the fall season; my favourite season by the way :)

  2. Laughing my head off right now! Wow. Your kids read, huh? I should be so lucky.