Chewymom

How many of you keep a diary? I used to keep one as a kid. It was VERY private. In fact, I found an old diary recently, and I was surprised by it. There were a few entries that said, “Got up, went to school, nothing happened.” Quite a few, in fact. But there were other entries where I talked about boys and crushes. Still more where I wrote about sneaking to a movie with some friends while my parents thought I was at the mall. Yet a few more about my friend M who stole things from a store while we were shopping. Repeatedly. She would steal Barbies and their accessories. If anyone–friends, my parents, my brother–had read my diary and discovered my secrets, I would have just wanted to die. Or kill that person.

And yet, here I am blogging. Most of the stuff I am fine with people knowing. But there’s a certain anonymity with most of my blog readers. I have never met most of you in real life, and I can say whatever pops into my silly little head to say and not worry about it. But then there are some real-life friends who read my blog. My college roomie, who probably often scratches her head and wonders, “What in the heck has happened to my once perfect roomie who is now off the deep end?” That is what you think, right Rutatita? And then there are my current friends who probably gasp and think, “Oh my! Chewymom thinks THAT? And she goes to OUR CHURCH??” Yeah, those things are weird to me. They sometimes make me want to be less than real about who I am and what I think.

Even weirder, though, is my own children reading my blog. Growing up, my parents were not very communicative about their thoughts and feelings. It was only in my adult years when I felt like I really began to understand them as people. In my middle and high school years, they were, you know, parents. Not real people at all. And yet, some of my children read my blog. They know what I think about issues. They see me act silly, and they see me struggle right here in front of everyone. They know when I mull over a current issue, and they see me hash out ideas. They watch me handle kind and unkind commenters. And it feels a bit like they are reading my private diary. It’s a little strange. And intimidating. And yet, I am glad, I think. They are getting to know me as more than just “boring Mom,” but as a person. They are seeing how I process things and how I try to think biblically and compassionately about current issues.

It’s weird, definitely, but overall I’m thankful. Hey, maybe they’ll think of me as a person, rather than as a three-headed monster, which is definitely how I saw my folks much of the time.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 5th, 2007 at 6:17 am and is filed under Mommy Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.