Friday, February 20, 2009

One bourbon, one scotch, one tear

Tonight everyone was asleep by 7. Nate's now caught the nasty flu and cried until we agreed to let him "west" on the couch. He fell asleep within 10 minutes of laying there. Then I put Jan to bed. He's working the overnight and if he doesn't sleep now, he'll be a mess by 7 am. Then came Lucy, who decided she didn't want to go to bed and wanted to be read 50 stories, but after two minutes of complaining, she realized I wasn't coming back.

Then Nate woke up screaming of pain in his chest, poor bub. I gave him some Advil and comforted him back to sleep. I was careful with my wording, so that he won't end up feeling sorry for himself every time he gets sick, like I do. I told him he was strong, that he could kick these germs, that I believed in him.

Then I poured myself a Scotch (because the Makers Mark bottle was empty). Because really, when your whole family is asleep at 7 pm and you STILL can't leave the house, you have to check out somehow.

I think that after almost five years, Martinis for Milk may have had its run. I'd like to start over somewhere... with more anonymity, or perhaps the opposite, but with more funny and less oversharing. For the first time I feel like I've gone out in just my Gap cotton hipster briefs.

Someone sent me a moving email the other week, after I posted about my shame at feeling animosity towards that Turkish girl on the bus. Born of the marriage of a German and a Jew, she felt I was promoting hate. I told her I was truly sorry, that I honestly don't hate Turks (I have several in my family), that I was trying to convey hurt, not hate. It made me very aware that my broadcasts here are powerful, and that while I mean well, perhaps my words can be misinterpreted and hurtful.

This got me thinking about my kids (hey, I was feverish for a week, what did you expect?). They're growing and soon their stories will no longer be mine to tell. What will happen when they read these posts some day? They'll be old enough to read them before they'll be old enough to understand why I called them FuckFace at nine months old. And at the end of the day, they're the ones whose respect and adoration matters the most.

It's taken me nearly five years to understand and accept motherhood and what it means, and this space has been crucial to that journey. But I think I'm there now. I think the party girl has hung up her dress and is ready to embrace what having two kids entails. I'm finally okay with that. But I could not have made it to that realization without the support of all of you.

I'm trying to live in the present, but I think that in order to do so, I need to empty my head of these stories I've been carrying around with me. They're bursting at the seams now, begging to come out and play. And I'm not sure if they fit on this blog. And I'm not sure if I can have two kids, a husband, a full time job and TWO creative outlets.

I need to get to a point where I spend less time in my head. Oddly, I think the way to do that is to write a book. I'd like to pour my creative energies into something that will still give to the people who like to read me, but that will also take me to the next level as a writer. I think it's time. But it's awfully scary too, thinking of writing in the dark, without the immediate applause (or jeers) of a few hundred people a day.

Thanks for always dropping in on me over the years. It's meant so much, I can't even begin to express it. I've made some incredible friends through this space, ones I can't picture my life without and others I'm just happy to know. I like getting the occasional hello on Facebook, peeking in at your lives, your families. Blogging feels so one dimensional, especially since I'm so bad at responding to comments and playing the blogging game.

At the end of the day I just want to tell my stories. I want to bring people some joy in their day and to reach out to those who are freaked out or frustrated and say, "Hey, you're not alone! And if I can laugh at my day, surely yours isn't so bad."

I'll be back here the odd time or two. Lucy will be 18 months next week and I'll need to get out my thoughts about that. I haven't captured her spirit properly on this blog and I feel like I'm finally starting to know Miss Mystery. I wouldn't mind sharing that with you. Plus the huz still hasn't made the appointment for that snip...

I guess I'm not saying goodbye just yet, more like, see you when I see you.

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