You know What? Ima Keep This Blog Alive

I know that Kate, at least, is reading this thing now.  I failed in my attempt to get words out of my own parents (slackers), so I guess it's up to me to be sure that Kate, at least, has something to read. 

It occurred to me as my the sun was setting upon my childhood, that I'd never really thought at all about my parents' lives apart from their involvement with me.  I realized, kind of unpleasantly, that it was probable that they had a great deal going on in their days and their bodies and their social circles, and various relationships that actually had nothing to do with me at all. It was like I looked up from something I'd been absorbed in reading (a little novella titled Myself) and realized they'd been in the room with me and I hadn't even  noticed or acknowledged them.  This is what it's like to realize your parents are human.  Some people think it happens when you witness your parents making some kind of mistake, or when they become ill or die.  Perhaps, for some, that's the case.  For me, it was more subtle and dependent upon my growing up a bit.

I only mention this because I assume that my daughters don't bother to think at all about what my life is like apart from them, and I'm fine with that. I do expect, though, that one day they'll wonder.  So, I've been thinking of coming back in here and sharing with them the sort of things I think about, and how I see them during these times that they are making their own assumptions about how I see them.  There are things I'd like to say to them that they aren't ready or willing to hear, but I can write them down here, and they can choose to come back and peruse it later.  Or not. I've read a lot of blog posts from other mothers that were written to their daughters - general advice on womanhood and adulthood - and I think that's all well and good but they're usually not what I want someone to say to my daughters, so here's my chance.  It's risky, of course, because as a rule, us mothers are insane, and I'm about to put my insanity down in writing (something my own mother repeatedly warned me not do), but so what? And you know what else?  I think I'll cuss.  All those years I kept this blog of my babies I never cussed because it was a family space, and the thought of hearing foul language from my sweets daughters' lips makes me cringe but the truth is, I like cussing and I do it a lot.  You've been warned.