now see here.

Look.  I know, I know.  Blog etiquette, blog shmetiquette.  I don't have an obligation to visit people who keep blogs.  I don't have an obligation to leave a comment if I *do* read. 

But.  I am guilt-ridden when I haven't had the opportunity to visit people who take time out of their busy schedules, time spent avoiding the pants-leg-tug by a toddler (or a gaggle of 'em) in order to read my thoughts, my words, my selfish internet vacuum; I feel, in my stomach, in my gut of guts, that I owe.  I am indebted to those who warm my blog with their company, their words of humor, of kindness, of response to my vacuum, making it far less vacuous. 

Right now?  I'm in the red.  My checkbook is so unbalanced it's like a knife in my brain, twisting slowly.

You know what else feels knife-like?  My arm, beginning at the pinky, and running all the way up to my hairline.  My entire right side is lit like an electrical wire, with a red-hot center coursing through its length.  I have been working almost non-stop on designs for the shop we're about to launch, and stealing away from that to watch my son and do laundry and slop some food together and clean up the food detritus in between times. 

It makes a girl want to grab hold of Mama Tulip's hand and jump, jump off this busy, hectic bridge of words and URLs and cute pictures and witty dialogue and comments and concern and affection and whirly whirl whirl.

But I won't.  I'll resist the urge, like the bright Sunshine Scribe, and instead stay focused on the little red dot in the middle of the screen (that I won't allow to freeze me up, like Cindy Brady, when she and Bobby were contestants on the trivia game show and Cindy couldn't respond to anything once she saw the little light on the top of the camera switch on; she simply froze, dumbstruck).  I'll post when I can, and I'll visit and read blogs when I can, and I'll comment if I have time, and I'll try to fight off the guilt when I can't.  I have to prioritize, and I know I don't need to provide apologies for doing so; we all have busy, multi-task-required existences, and sometimes more opportunities for blogging are afforded than others, etc.  But my feelings are still there, the ones that urge in a stage whisper to read! and comment!  and I!  want!  to!

And I will.  When I can.  I am going to be available far less than I was these last several months, because of a confluence of events - my son is running, and climbing, and opening doors and drawers and Pandora's box is always just out of his reach, I'm afraid, and that requires my almost-constant supervision; the webshop, once I've finished working with my husband to establish it, will require my attention to fulfill orders and sundry; and my house will continue to beg me to take a towel to it once in a while (and I'll continue to blithely ignore it most of the time -- that's one guilty feeling I've managed to almost totally silence, a knowledge that fills me with a shiny, squeaky sense of relief).

I'm not gonna quit; I'm just gonna downsize.  I know I don't owe this manifesto on my status as blogger, but I feel that I do.  And I like to acknowledge my feelings.  It's one of the things in life that inspires me, after all.

It's sure to get a little lonely around here, now that I've declared my intentions.  I'm trying to tell myself it won't hurt.  It will.  But my feelings haven't changed about all of you.  Only my schedule has interfered.  Unlike my mom (and my dad, too, but it's never bothered me quite so much about him), I refuse to allow something like this to take precedence over my son in the scale of priorities.  My mom has always chosen church, and church-related activities, over me and my brother.  Just today, I asked her if she could help me with the baby kidlet a little more than usual this week, so that I could really throw myself into the last push to get the shop ready for opening up, and she explained that she had already scheduled a lot of events with her church this week, due to a missions conference they're putting on.  Her participation includes helping set up chairs, and tables, and going shopping for food with several other women, and assisting in food preparation, etc.  She's an extra body, in other words.  I'm guessing, too, that if she were to explain that she couldn't help quite so much this week as she'd originally committed to doing, because her daughter needed some extra help with the grandchild, that her friends would not only release her from her commitments, but expect her to choose to help us over helping them.  Because that's the usual routine, especially with church people.  Family comes first -- family values, non?

At least, you'd think that.  My mom, however, explained that she had committed to this, that she'd already enlisted her aid, and couldn't back out now.  They are counting on her, after all.  To unfold chairs.  And slice bread.  And exchange pleasant banter about whose cancer is worsening and who needs prayer for some burgeoning disaster. 

I'm sure, too, that she'll reference her daughter's family at least a few times during all the chit-chat exchanged over the gigantic vat of boiling pasta, and industrial-sized cans of tomato paste, can openers a'cracking; something to the effect of our dark, doomward-advancing souls, because we've not chosen to declare open war on Satan.  I'm sure she'll lament the future soul of her grandson, because of our non-declaration.  How that must surely negatively effect him.

I wonder if she'll mention how she could've been right there with us, influencing our little family for good, by simply providing her presence, by playing with that doomed grandson, by acting out the love she says, in so many words, she feels for us so strongly.  Or is it more important for her to play the role of the concerned, loving grandmother?  Does that feed her soul at the end of each day when she tries to fall asleep, to no avail, because she does not sleep well or deeply?

Regardless, and of course I've gotten away from my original point (!), which is to bow low before you who have troubled yourself to peer into the musty recesses of my brain and care about it, and me, for even a brief moment.  To be grateful to you for that slice of your time and attention.  I am.   Even if the only way I can show it is through this post, and subsequent posts where I deliver a similar thanks and apology.

I've gone on too long, and my son is begging for my attention and I have to give it.  I want to have a good relationship with him as an adult.  This, for me, is what will bring that about.  Ignoring teh internet's stage whispers and hanging out with him.

I know you all understand.

(so why do I feel like crying?)

*********

I know why.  I skimmed over the post quickly, after publishing, to ensure that there were no glaring spelling mistakes or grammatical eyesores, and it hit me: I'm sad because I'm basically ending about a zillion awesome friendships with the only people who really understand; understand me, my situation, this exchange between my son and myself, between the triangle that is this family, my need for this outlet, the blog.  My need for communication with like-minded individuals.  I realize this isn't an end, but it's change, and I hate change.  I'm afraid of change.  Change is a constant, yes; but it doesn't mean I'm good at handling it, or that I've gotten accustomed to its abrupt arrival, no matter how often it gets here and smacks me with its shiny, new glove.  I owe Misha's recent similar announcement some credit, too, for my comprehension of this alteration, of my newly realized inability to fulfill my end of the bargain I initially made, the contract I signed, with the provision that I would complete the requirements included therein.  That I would maintain the relationships I began, and not slack, and it's a big, fat lie if anyone tries to tell me that's not part of the contractual agreement made in the communication between bloggers.  I only get as good as I give, and frankly, that's friendship in a nutshell, so for anyone who tries to hand me the pablum suggestion that I can relax, because people will still like me and be my friend, even if I can't play along, just hold on to that little jewel.  I'll keep believing what I already do, which is that we're friends, and I have to back off in the friendship, and I'm sad about it.  It hurts, cuts to the quick, in that sharp, immediate sense, but it's also gonna hurt as I go along, too.  I've relied on the friendships I've made through this process so heavily in the last months, and I feel as though I'm cutting the hand off to suit the arm.  I need that hand!  Arm, why are you so demanding?  But I made a choice to become a mother, and the logical step for me right now is to give him my best, despite my desire to keep a lot of it for myself and my adult friendships.  I have to cut off that hand, or at least remove it temporarily, and maybe I can reattach it occasionally for kicks, just like the old song about the penis (just like it!  except it's about a hand and blogging, and not a penis!  so not really like it at all!  except for the attachable aspect!).  And I'll be itching to talk to you guys when I can't, and I'll post and realize that I deserve to have none of you read and discover what's been happening in my little corner, because I haven't caught up with you, or have, but haven't been able to take the time to say some witty, friendly thing in response to your stories.  And I do believe that the cat's tail is being effectively swallowed at this point in the scenario.

I miss you all so much already.

Comments

[mothergoosemouse]

Don't you cry. This is what happens in life - people come and go. No guilt.

[krista]

You know what is funny? I think I have been to your blog a couple of times here and there, but not enough to really "know" you. (Today I came over by way of Kristen)

Somehow though, this honest post (that perfectly reflects how I feel about my own blogging at the moment) has made me want to come back and read more. So, ironically- your declaration of not having time for bloggy friends has probably just has earned you a new one.

[Izzy]

Hi Deb,

I didn't read this post until tonight and came specifically because Cristina commented on a very similar post of mine that you wouldn't be around as much. I so feel the same. That the change I know needs to happen is scary and uncomfortable and I don't want to deal with it but it's inevitable. Like you, I have children that need me more than ever, especially my son, who is into everything now and cannot be contained and made to wait while I create my next blogging masterpiece (heh...joke) and it does hurt to know I will probably lose some "friends" as I start to scale back and focus on life outside the box.

I've always enjoyed your blog. I remember thinking I'd encountered a hidden gem when I first read it. And I still feel that way. Please know that even as I, too, scale back a bit, that I will do my very best to not drift away from you and your blog.

And if I ever get my way, someday I will be living in Portland and stalking your ass :)

[Gillian]

I think your Mom has never really been there. One of the deepest diseases of our time is form without content -- if it looks like a relationship than it is. I have to be judgemental and say that grandchildren have addictive skin and make addictive noises and no matter how hard you try you are obnoxiously besotted and annoy everyone you know and total strangers as well. Once in a huff with my daughter I proclaimed that maybe I just shouldn't visit hurumph! Her response was 'Neither one of us could afford the therapy you would need if we tried to keep you away from your grandson.' Something is really wrong with your mom IMHO.

BTW I think responding to comments is nice but you write a blog -- that is what I come for. I don't expect a reply to my comment unless I really tick you off and you want to punch me out. LOL

[sweatpantsmom]

You're a wonderful writer. I'll continue to stop by.

I know what you mean by the guilt. Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to give everyone who stops by my blog a token of appreciation of some kind, instead of going crazy trying to reciprocate-comment.

Hey, that's it - stop by, get a free keychain.

[Lawyer Mama]

I completely understand. It's so hard to find the time to do this and sometimes other things are more important. I can understand the guilt too. Even though I never feel like anyone is obligated to come comment on or even read my blog, I always feel as if I must.

I'll keep checking back to see if you've updated!

[Pattie]

Don't sweat it.....

I TOTALLY can relate. Do what you can because you want to....not out of obligation. Then it becomes work. I just went through this myself.....the whole how to fit blogging into my life thing. Somedays it is easier than others.Cut yourself some slack.
:)
PS I am laughing like crazy right now over penelopeto's comment....about the guilt trip: "you have your mother for that".....*LOL*

[penelopeto]

dude, blogging should be fun, a release, a hobby. not a guilt-trip. you have your mother for that.
see you when we see you - and that is just fine.

[Paula]

Deep breath, girlfriend. Don't make me get Marxist on your ass. Ok, I will anyway.

"From each, according to his ability; to each, according to his need."

I'll be checking in on you, and will be happy knowing you are doing the work you need and want to do.

Big Hug.

[fizzle]

ok, apparently i'm about to write you a missive. brought on by what? i'm not sure. i mean, i read you and infrequently comment, but you move me, girl. thus, it's my "ode" to you.

i imagine that you and i -- if the opportunity ever became available and the hours in the day where you weren't chasing a kidlet-- could sit down to a cup of coffee and have that turn in to dinner, then drinks. all the while the talk would be of making sense of shit. the big, the small, the inconsequential. the world, the blogs, the kids, the moms, the hurt, your fear of change, my refusal to stay the same. oh, and project runway. (and shoes, always shoes).

it would be a phenomenal conversation. i think this because the way you write taps in to the way i think. yeah, we're different enough, but it's rare to find someone who thinks about things the same way you do. mebbe a lot of people would bow out when we hit the meaning of life questions (not knowing we were headed right back in to discussing facial washes), but it'd be dope, deep and cool.

what's my point here? that you bring a lot to the table, BUT!

don't feel guilty. yes, you'll be missed. but a woman's gotta do what she's gotta do to have her son call her when he's 20 and throwing up in the bushes after a night out with friends. oh, am i spooking you about the future? family first, your priorities first.

i feel your need, girl, to take a break. it's all or nothing. there's plenty of room for you to come in and out and still have a captive, supportive audience...rss feeds are simple enough for us to know when you're a writin'....

you don't have to say good bye to people if you're not keeping a blog. (just in case you find emailing useful, you have mine!, use it!) you'll be missed, yes, but we'll still be around.

[Sunshine Scribe]

Get out of my head. You are freakin me out woman. I totally drafted this post exactly right after I decided to stay. Well not exactly 'cause I am not nearly as eloquent. But about all the guilt and the one sidedness I'd cause in the blog friendships I've grown to really value and about down sizing. Then I chickened out. But still there is the guilt and the sadness and I still struggle to balance it and cut back even more. I am right there with you girl.

[Shelly Franz]

Hugssssssss...well, trite though it may be, and better said, please know that real life takes precedence over blog life, and that most of us WILL be here when you have time to peek in at our bloglives. You don't owe anyone anything here, girl, we like your writing, so we read, and the comment feature lets us let you know that we enjoyed it. That doesn't obligate you to visit our sites and say nice things in return, hon. It really doesn't. Take it easy, Deb, and realize that you have one less thing to worry about - and enjoy the relief of that.

[ortizzle]

I think Mignon may have the perfect solution. Turn off the comments for a while. Put 'em on once a month, or whenever. Write when you can. There comes a time when you have to prioritize and (sorry for the cliché), "sieze the day." Even if you had back-up from your Mom, it would probably still be difficult. So just get on with your projects and your family life. You can pick up the threads when everything else is in balance. :-))

[Sarah]

there's ETIQUETTE?? where have I been? I guess I'm seriously new to this blogging bloggy blogosphere.

Hey, I said I hoped you wouldn't find my blog again and read what I wrote. I, like many others here, love to read what you write and expect nothing in return. For that matter, I thank you for having something, ANYTHING, here worth reading. You DO obsess. Geesh. Go play with your damn kidlet and stop feeling guilty about that, mm-kay? Oh, God, I feel a Kevin Costner movie quote kinda thingy coming - anyone else hear that??? If she writes it, we will come.... DAMN, I could not resist! :) Kids, why do we love them so stinkin' much? Why are they so freakin' cute? Why are we so determined not to mess them up? They'll be blogging about how screwed up we are someday. HA! Hey, Deb, chill out mama - it's all good. Surrender and relax into your life. You're not a squished Twinkie that easily.

[misha]

And btw, in the hopes that this is anonymous amongst people who know me in real-time, I cried reading about your mom. We have so much we could talk about over coffee...are you coming to the Seattle area any time soon?

[misha]

I've come back here three times to comment and I still can't. I ditto your comment to me almost verbatim.

There is so much more to this blogging world than words. It *is* like a neighbour next door (over the fence) moving away....Can you write a book instead and then you can kinda be a permanent friend in my house? You know I think you are gifted - please just know that. I'll miss you.

[Insert your comment to me here again. ]

[jennster]

i miss you already. but i totally understand and think that LIFE and how we live it, needs to be balanced. and when blogging starts to feel like another job, or work, or makes us feel "pressured" then something's wrong. you know? we'll be here when you blog. and we'll be waiting while you don't. :)

[Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah]

Seriously.

Blog whenever you feel like it. You don't owe us anything.

We'll be here when you are ready.

[Kristin]

It's cyclical... we're all blogging like mad, we're all cooling off...

We'll be here when you are and we understand...this should be the last thing that is an obligation...

But, I'll miss you.

[wordgirl]

Do you hear that noise? It's the wind whistling around the lonely ghost town that is Blogville these days. Everyone's leaving, downsizing, fading away, moving, gestating...

Why can't the people I don't care about be the ones to leave? Why? Why? Why? I'll miss you.

[Deb]

I felt left out, so jumping in :)

No one ever comments on my blog anyways, LOL Clearly I am not working the guilt angle, b/c I know people are reading it!!

I however, read you daily and while I will miss reading your stream of conciousness beatificiness (I MADE IT UP OK...say it, it feels GREAT) and as a mama of 4, of course I get it. Off you go, play with your kids and clean if you must. Hey, maybe we can meet IRL instead! I mean that in a very nonstalker like way.

hugs to you fellow GoddessMamaDeboftheCOOLESTname.

[Her Bad Mother]

You do what you gotta do. I've downsized (portioning out my visits, only posting when the muse visits, refraining from commenting) even though I didn't announce it, and I feel crazy guilty sometimes, but it's necessary for my sanity.

I'll still be out here, lovin' you. We all will.

[Andrea]

I'm going to say what you said not to: I like to come here and read your stuff because I LIKE TO. I relate to you. But I don't expect anything in return. I'm glad you're sharing what you can when you can. Your comments? They're awesome, not because of their perfection (and I agree with the previous commenter that you don't always have to be "on" when leaving a comment) but becuase they're you. But you wouldn't be you with out living your life. Blogging isn't everything, and you hit the nail on the head with the family first jewel. And I will still be your friend no matter what. You said yourself that slowing down on the blogging is going to hurt because you think of your blog friends as the people who understand the leg tugs and fears and the funnies. So know that we understand this as well. Because we've all been in that boat at one time or another.

I defy you by saying I love you anyway, comments on my site or not. :)

[Nancy]

Don't feel guilty ... I read your blog all the time and I think this is the first time I'm leaving a comment :)

I think Misha's post affected all of us ... I had a similiar post last night - the conflict between being an independent individual and a mother and a wife. I don't think there is one right answer - we all just have to do what works for each of us.

No reason for guilt ... We ALL understand

[Girl con Queso]

First of all, incredible post as always. I love the description of the church cooking and doings and goings on. So spot on. When are you going to write a book? Oh yeah, you're not taking new things on. Oh well. Eventually. Secondly, I think most of us totally get it and relate. And I think we all give you the high-five-Oprah-you-go-girl for taking care of that little man and putting him first. Best decision you can make. And I love how well you explained this. I pray none of us turn blogging into our prayer conference.