deconstructive criticism

My ex recently had some lovely things to say concerning my blog.  I considered the source and in the end took it as a compliment that he chose to spend his precious time reading what I had to say.  In a day and age of racey magazines and internet gossip, I guess I should feel honored that anyone choses to reading about my boring ol' life.

I think all of us (and I assume if you found this blog you participate, if even just a little, in the great and powerful social media network), have to be prepared for what others might say or think.  We put our lives out there "on the line" (The Internship reference) and allow almost anyone into them.  They know when we break up and make up, get married, divorced, have a baby, get a new job or lose one, who our friends are and what we had to eat at the restaurant we just "checked into."  Class reunions are almost obsolete now because they happen every day on Facebook.

I don't have a problem with social media because I don't have a problem talking with complete strangers and chatting with them about basically anything.  The other day at Costco I met myself in the form of a man in his late seventies.  He talked to my husband and I about vacuums for over a half hour and ended our conversation by telling us how he was the orchestration behind some random couple getting married.  What does that have to do with anything? Some might say nothing, but I disagree.  To me what was impressive, was his ability to reach out to us and help us make a choice (he talked us into the Electrolux Cordless 2-in-one) via his ability to make a connection.  For once, I was pretty quiet during this chat fest (it was the day I sent off Savannah and Sam and I was emotionally and physically spent), but I took the opportunity of seeing myself in someone else, like an out of body experience.  I was okay with what I saw.  I later told my husband, now I know what's it's like to talk to me... (grin.)

Mom in socks in crocs!

People are going to criticize you.  It's inevitable in this thing called life.  However I choose to continue on with my life anyway.  This may be your first time reading this blog and if it is, you can see I don't post about the latest fashions (in fact my daughter Savannah thinks I need to be on an episode of what not to wear) or a new beauty tip. But, you might get the courage to voice an opinion of your own or learn to not take life too seriously and give yourself a break.  After all, if you need to feel better about your life, you can just read about mine.

Side Note:  This morning my two year old comes in to my bedroom, quite early and is sporting a chocolate mustache.  I ask him (not how he got out of his crib... a new venture of his... he finally has the courage since his leg broke last year) but what he had to eat.  He tells me "nothing" with a straight face and asks for a cheese stick.  I go downstairs and prepare myself for the worse (he's taken lessons from his older siblings on the ability to "seek and destroy.")  However, all I find is a carton of muscle milk and a small glass neatly poured.  Nice job Max!