Who reads your blog? Do any members of your family read it? How do you feel about friends or neighbours following it?
My blog is public. I know some members of my family read it, also friends and others I know. However, I imagine to myself that they rarely bother, and even if they do, that this very post I’m writing is one they definitely wont read. It is, I know, denial of the highest order, but it is the only way I can write and press publish. Until that is I meet them, and they speak of something I have written, or they tell someone else whom we are speaking to, that I blog. Then my bubble is well and truly burst.
‘What do you blog about?’, is the question most non bloggers ask me, while looking at me as if I have something unidentified and not pleasant, stuck on my face. It is a question that always embarrasses me. I never know what to say. What do I blog about? ‘Nothing much, I answer, just whatever I am thinking about’. This answer usually leads to a sympathetic nodding of the head, accompanied by an ‘Oh’. Quite clearly most people don’t get it.
My own family tolerate my ‘hobby’. They watch as I sit typing away, and I suspect they think I’m a little bit touched. Sometimes, especially in the past year with the death of young Daniel, I type with tears pouring down my face, totally lost in what I am writing. That you might say is a good thing, but I am usually typing in the sitting room, with at least one of my children present watching television. They are oblivious to the idea I might be concentrating on what I’m doing, so regularly they sit chatting to me, expecting me to answer them, and take in every word they are saying.
My poor husband despairs of this blog. He initially lived in hope that I would quickly gather a following of millions. He imagined how we would cope with selling advertising space on it, and what lovely things we might get for free to review. Eighteen months later he has given up. This blog is a major disappointment to him, and I suspect in some ways, you my readers, are like a third person in our marriage.
As I said my blog is public, but it embarrasses me hugely whenever anyone refers to it, even close friends, especially if I have posted about my family. On one occasion last Summer I wrote a post called ‘My husband is so lucky he married me’. In it I described my other half getting really mad at me, so mad he left the house in a temper to go for a cycle. I shared that he should be grateful to me, because of me he is in great shape. The day after I posted this, a friend texted me to say she was laughing her head off as she had just passed him cycling along, and was wondering what I had done to upset him this time!
My children rarely read my blog, I think. But occasionally they do. One night I had written a post about my Dad on his birthday. He died over twenty years ago, and I was feeling a bit nostalgic. I had not told my children that day that it was his birthday, but sitting watching TV late that night the door opened. My eldest walked in and gave me a rare heartfelt hug. As she did so she said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know’. It was lovely.
However my children reading also has it’s downfalls.
One evening I wrote a post for my own mom, thanking her for all she had done for me over the years. I had been reminded of all she did for me while mothering my own gang. A few days later my daughter came into the kitchen. ‘Lies, lies, it’s all lies’, she shouted, with a twinkle in her eye as she began to take out the ironing board. ‘What is?’, I replied, and then looking at the wrinkled top she had with her,I remembered my post. In it I had written,
‘When my daughter asks me where her blue top is,
and I say ‘I’ve just ironed it’,
because I knew she wanted to wear it out that night.
I say ‘Thank you’.
I began to laugh. Look at it’, she said, pointing to her top. ‘It’s blue and I’m going out tonight and you definitely have not ironed it’, she laughed.
Then there was last night.
For two days in a row, out of the blue I got a notification on wordpress, ‘tric liked your post’. At the time I was no where near my laptop, and if I was I certainly was not going to like my own posts. When it happened the second time, I wondered to myself, had someone stolen my identity on wordpress? Then last night I went into the kitchen where my other half was sitting with his laptop open. ‘I’m reading your blogs’, he said, as if I have more than one. I smiled as he had recently discovered I had made the Irish Blog Awards Finals, so I knew he was seeing what it was all about. ‘Yes, he said, I even ‘liked’ a couple of your posts the other day’. Mystery solved. He was reading my blog while logged in as me. I had to smile, but also tell him to log out or don’t like!
So while I love having a blog, and thoroughly enjoy writing it, sometimes when it is read by those close to home, it can be just a little bit embarrassing. However, to date it is not enough to make me stop. Not yet anyway.
Mind you who knows what I’ll write about tomorrow!
photo credit: lisaclarke via photopin cc