Quirks, an exercise in sharing, and other nonsense…
Blogging is a funny thing. I find myself having these inner battles. On one side is my “inner blogging voice” that often turns on when I have a funny or strange experience. On the other side is a part of my conscience (oh yeah, my Ego) that says “do you really want to share that with just about ANYBODY?” Seriously, do I want you rummaging through my underwear drawer? No.
So why would I share personal stuff with you on the internet? The battle steps in. What to share? What not to share? Do people really need to know my quirks? On the other hand I’m not going to pretend I don’t have any. At what point will others say “Geez, La, that was waaaay to much information!”
But then I was thinking of this experience awhile ago. When I was a newlywed my hubby and I house-sat/kid-sat for a family that happened to be pretty well-off. They had a beautiful house. I remember I got home from school (I was teaching high school back then) and nobody was home yet. So, I did what any other nosy person would do, I walked through the entire house to see what it was like. It was a huge house and really not necessary for me to be in ALL parts of the house, but hey, I have no excuse but curiosity. The house was immaculate. It almost made me sick. “How does she do it?” I wondered. The mother was not only a stay at home mom but also very active in her church and community.
I tip-toed through through the bedrooms and hallways, awestruck. Then, after passing through the game room, I randomly opened a closet door. And there it was. It was awesome. It was jam packed with stuff. It was COMPLETELY disorganized. I loved it. I went to another closet, similar scenario. I breathed a sigh of relief. Why, you may ask? Why would I love that? Because I felt better. She wasn’t perfect. She was normal.
I feel that way when I read others’ blogs. People open their closets and they make me laugh or cry or whatever, and it’s good. But, I’ve been holding back lately.
So, here’s an exercise in opening up just a little.
These are my quirks. It ain’t my underwear drawer by no means, but it could be my medicine cabinet, or some other disorganized section of my house. So here goes:
1. I don’t like feet. They gross me out. I don’t want anyone’s feet to touch me and I don’t want to touch anyone’s feet. I respect anyone who is willing to give another person, including me, a foot rub.
2. On the other hand, one of my favorite parts of a baby is their feet, especially if they’re chubby.
3. I don’t like raisins in cookies or breads. I like raisins alone but don’t put them in the cookies or bread.
4. When I go running or exercise, I MUST brush my teeth before doing so. It must happen.
5. I am extremely “flinchy” if there is anything near my face. I need to protect my teeth (a long, tragic tale) and my eyes (a short, happy tale).
6. Ever since I had children, I became a bit of a “germaphobe.” I didn’t realize this until I was at the park and my friend laughed at me for wiping the baby swing with a baby wipe. I have since tried to chill.
7. I still wish I could have been a dancer on Solid Gold.
8. When waking me from sleep, do not tap me. I repeat, Do not tap me.
9. In fact, if I’m asleep, just don’t touch me.
10. I appreciate phones and the conveniences they bring to our lives, but I hate the phone (this is where Chunk #1 would say “Mom, we don’t say ‘hate’!” but it’s OK because I’m not talking about a person or delicious food that I spent a good portion of my day preparing for you to eat).
11. My husband and I are probably the last people on earth to not own a cell phone. People think we are weird. I might say we’re just nostalgic.
12. I hate the look of black leather. It looks like an eighties bachelor pad. I do, however, like the look of brownish black leather. Now that’s classy. Why? I DON’T KNOW.
13. I used to hate the look of white cars, unless it was a Pinto Station Wagon.
14. I discovered this last quirk after I had kids: When I am eating a meal, I do NOT want to be tapped, leaned on, rubbed up against, or touched in any way. As my husband says “Mommy’s like a dog, don’t touch her when she’s eating.” I don’t know why, but at mealtimes, I need my space. Don’t touch me, or I’ll bite your head off…like a dog.
Ok, so I’m done and I just reread all that. These things really aren’t that strange. Strange is not wearing deodorant. I don’t. I hardly need it. Strange is having a personal rule of not answering the phone before 9:00 am. Strange is not liking to reuse dish towels too much and ending up with 5 or 6 of them in the hamper by the end of the day. Strange is this post. Oh, I guess #12 and #14 are probably pretty strange, too.
Why do I care? These things are not that big of a deal. Like I said, it’s an exercise in sharing. There! I bust it out. I’m not looking back. I will click the “Publish” button. I’ll get over it…
Don’t judge me!