More than me(me)

(I will warn you now - this post is long. Sorry but it's about my feeeelings and I tend to ramble when it comes to my feeeelings.

If you've already read this post then you know that that last sentence is totally laughable.

If you haven't you'll just have to read to find out why.)



I've been composing this post in my mind for days, mentally writing and then discarding each draft. Not one word actually made it on to the computer screen in front of me until now - such as they are.

Julie tagged me for the "Evolution of Blogging" meme, or more specifically the "Evolution of your blogging" meme. At first I was thrilled by the idea - finally, a meme that had nothing to do with how I fell asleep every night (rubbing my ankles together like a cricket, just so you know) or what was in my bag (diapers and cracker crumbs mostly) - but the more I thought about it, the more I realized what this particular meme meant to me (and, yes, I was over thinking - again), the more terrified I became of the question how has my blogging changed and evolved.

I don't know if it's evolved. To the contrary, I think it may be going the other way. Because, you see, if you think about it I don't really talk about me on this blog.

(Go ahead, mull that one over for a minute. I'll wait. But first read the next paragraph.)

One of the things that fascinates me about blogging is the perception we have of those we read on a regular basis gathered from the nuggets of information that can be gleaned from one's blog. I've never met many of you but I have a mental picture in my head of who you are: what you sound like, how tall you are, how you walk, hell even how you laugh. It's all crap, I'm sure, and when I finally meet some of you this summer in some cases my mental image will be shattered. Yes, I have drawn assumptions. Will I be disappointed? I don't know, but that could certainly happen, and you, in turn, could be disappointed when you meet me.

(It's okay. Just keep it to yourself and I won't be hurt.)

(I wound very easily. Have I ever told you that? Probably not.)

From reading this blog, having never met me, you know that I like a good joke. You know that I love wine. You know that I work with dogs and I have two of my own that drive me crazy, that I have one (devastatingly adorable) toddler whom I love, and that I have a husband who occasionally does stupid things but whom I also love. You know that I lost my mother to cancer and I miss her very much. You know that I can overreact to things and then overreact about overreacting. And you may know that women, as a group, usually freak me out. But is that it? Is that all of me?

I'll answer my own question: No.

The reason why you, as a reader, don't know more about me from this blog is because by nature I am an incredibly guarded person. I really do not share that much of myself with others. I keep my cards close to my vest, I rarely wear my heart on my sleeve... Blahdee blahdee blahdee.

Which leads me to the evolution - or the de-evolution of this blog.

(And for the record I know the opposite of "evolution" is "regression" or "deterioration" but that seems a bit extreme, don't you think?)

(And and... Don't you think it's about time I got to the reason for this post? I mean c'mon... get to the point already.)

When I began Chicky Chicky Baby I had hoped that the (perceived) anonymity of the internet would help me open up about certain pieces of my life - and it has, a bit, but it has also made me more aware of what I talk about and, in turn, even more guarded. For one reason - I let my husband read this blog. And then I shared it with my sister. The two people, besides Chicky, who mean the most to me in this world now have access to my inner-most feelings. And speaking of Chicky, she could read these posts one day. Do I really want them to learn certain things about myself - things I might not feel comfortable bringing up to them in person - through a blog? Where complete strangers can read it first? Uh uh, don't think so. That's not fair.

And I will not even think about other parts of my family or friends who may stumble upon this one day. I've said a more than a few embarrassing things but so far nothing too damning that I couldn't recover from.

But I have to admit, I sometimes long for total anonymity. I do wish that no one I knew had learned about this blog. Not that I would share stories of elicit affairs or second lives (if you knew what my life was really like right now you'd laugh at preposterousness of that last statement. Affairs? Who has time or energy for affairs??) but because I really have no trouble with people knowing that my life is messy. To what level of messy is what I have trouble with, but I would like to learn how to open up more. Therapy without the co-pay.

And lest I forget, for some reason there are people out there who seem to like this blog. People (you?) who read what I write on a regular basis. How bizarre is that? I'd be lying if I said that my stat counter has not affected my way of writing one bit.

I'd like to open up more. I'd like my voice, my true voice, to be heard through the din. But not now. At least not today.

The bottom line is I have to remain true to myself, on this blog and in real life. If I'm not going to sit on a playground picnic table and share my innermost thoughts and feeeelings with you then why would I on an internet page?

However...

(I said bottom line, but I didn't really mean it. Do I ever?)

I know that being guarded is not necessarily healthy. I've made things very difficult and unpleasant for myself these past few years in the name of privacy and I need to fix that. So you may just find yourself on my site one day learning about any manner of juicy details about me.

Especially if I'm drinking and blogging. I've been known to do some silly things when I've got the drink in me.

Just don't tell my husband or my sister that.

Shit, I guess I just did. Hey! Maybe I'm evolving!

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Now I have to tag people for this meme. This is the part that I hate the most, even more than talking about my feeeelings (whoa whoa whoa Feeeelings). Let's see, who can I piss off with a tag... How about Redneck Mommy, Motherbumper, and Jen. Have at it, betches.