I had to think about this for a long time. Do I really want to use this as a place to open my heart and soul up? I have made some great new friends since I started this wild ride. I never thought I was very funny, but when I started my Facebook(tm) page I suddenly had this outlet. And it was fantastic! And I went from a handful of people and pages who found me amusing to nearly 3,000 fans in 4 months. All I can say as I watch those numbers slowly creep is HOLY CRAP! On my page, I let my guard down. I have my “real identity” locked down, so not many people even know who I really am. So I feel free to just be ME. Over the top, hyper, crassy, and sassy. I speak my mind. I have a set of balls on the internet. So…why can I not find them right now?
I have always, as I mention in my first blog, wanted to be a writer. I spent my life scribbling in journals a la Harriet The Spy and thinking about how awesome it would be to see my name on the cover of a book. What it all boils down to is this… I am a giant chicken. Huge. Wuss. I am such a HUGE chicken I make the big red hen on a certain kids TV show look like a Peep.
You know the show…where the little girl has a talking map instead of a GPS, who runs around with a monkey for a babysitter. She is obviously sniffing her parents cleaning supplies or huffing whipped cream. A talking backpack that has anything you ever need? Where the hell was that when I was a kid? I could have used one.
But this morning I found my guts. I was sitting in the can, reading a book by a fellow mommy blogger. She is fast becoming a friend of mine, both online and, after a crazy day of ginormous inflatable monkey camel toe crotch fuzz excitement, I am thinking we might be able to become “real life” friends. 3 hours between us be damned. She found those guts. And I am so insanely jealous of her bravery. Perhaps the elevated toilet seat I have recently been relegated to was lifting my confidence as well as my lard ass. But I am going to put it all out there. I think. Maybe….I might.
Do I really want to do this? My closest friends are the only ones who know a lot of what happened to me in my past. I managed to keep my problems a secret for 20 years and counting. My family has never heard about most of the stuff I have been through. My dad took most of my secrets to the grave with him. Yeah I know, I said we hated each other. But he also was my confidante. Nights with his insomnia we talked. A lot. He found out when I was 15 about my being attacked at 13. He found out lots of other atrocities I am still debating discussion of. He bailed me out of jail. More than once. If I put all this out there…It may explain a lot to my family but it also may cause them grief. Will they even believe me since I held it all inside me for so long? Do I want to relive the details and pain or keep it all in my head?
It is going to take some time for me to truly get the confidence I need to put it all out there. But a LOT of my experiences in my life are why I parent my son the way I do. He is the most polite, intelligent, full of “fuck you” attitude kid I have ever met. He will hold the door open for a woman then fart as she walks by and break into peals of laughter. He always says “Yes please, no thank you, excuse me, please may I” but they often superseded by “Give me my damn toy back” “Mommy I am really pissed off at you right now!” and other things that make ‘typical’ moms gasp in horror.
I get compliments all the time on his manners and his advanced speech and vocabulary. I also get comments on his bad attitude and eye rolling sarcasm a-la a future teen. What the hell kind of a ride am I on? How did he get to be this way? So full of sugar and venom? And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. He may look almost exactly like, and have the quick temper of his father. But inside, he is me. 100%. He talks too much and at all the wrong times. He never stops to think about his actions as he goes in at 500 MPH and deals with the aftermath. (Which is why for blog purposes I call him Hurricane.) And he is who is he because he is me. My sweet side, my scared side. My need to be all grown up and my desire to be snuggled and be a baby for just a little bit longer. My emotional and overly sensitive side. My naturally lacking of self-confidence side. This is a journey I am living again, through him. So maybe by putting it all out there, I can keep him from at least a little of the pain I often felt and still feel. OK. Confidence here I am. Lets do this thing.