Assuming My Mother Can Visit A Site Not On Her Favorites List

I was trying to explain to my mother tonight why I blog. I know that people who don't have one don't understand this. What exactly would compel a person to right about boobs and shit and their sex life on the internet. And it is a hard thing to explain, but blogging is addictive. It is just such a mind dump to tell a story or just blurt out something you have been thinking and then let it go. The people in your life hear your obsessions to the point where they stop listening, but the blog just takes what you give it and spits it back out.

I don't get many commenters, though y'all it is a little pathetic how much I love every single one. Frank, who always wants me to grow my hair and talk about my boobs. Amy from NY who shares my softball obsession. Eeek who is so funny and Monica is convinced is my sister. There are not many of y'all but I just love you.

But I cannot really explain to my mother why I write some man who I have never met to explain that really my husband doesn't mind short hair and really I look better NO REALLY I DO. I mean she has never read this blog.

I've given her the address so maybe she has. I hope she hasn't. Because sometimes people do not understand that this is a vent. It is where I say stupid, petty, judgmental things. Where I complain because my husband works too much or my mother worries too much.

My mother, who now that I am an adult I realize is perfection. I see the relationships other girls have with their mothers. I can count the number of women I know who are friends with their mothers on one hand. My mom has never criticized my hair, made me think I was stupid or fat and that is a gift. She thinks I am perfect. Yes she worries about me too much and she craves grandchildren the way that junkies want crack. But she doesn't push and she is kind about it.

She came and unpacked and organized my kitchen. And told me it was fun! She looked at my tiny house and said she understood how I loved it even though I don't think anyone could.

So I could never bitch about my mother in real life. Because it is like inviting a thunderbolt of shit to strike you on your best hair day. You have a good thing going Blondie don't fuck it up.

So this is why I have a blog. So that I can complain about how my mother always says "WHAT'S WRONG!?!?!" when I answer the phone and how J plays videogames until 3 am and so that Amy from NY and I can gripe about ESPN's coverage of the softball world series.

I guess it is easy to explain after all.