So, now where was I?

I've been a bit lax on the blogging front in the last week or two. Partly because my life has been blissfully laid back: I've been reading, working on some data for an evaluation of a nonprofit (I like it but {yawn} to talk about), and hanging out with my kids and puppy friend.

obligatory Louie photo

Also partly because I've been having discussions with myself about blogging. Has it run its course for me? Why do I do it? Does it come from a place of authentic expression or has it become more of an obligation or--worse--a source of feeling I need to compete {well, compete's not the right word} or prove myself {closer}?

Side note: one of my professors, David Elkind, pioneered the psychological concept of "imaginary audience." Originally he applied it to adolescents and their tendency to believe that everyone is watching them & how this affects their behavior and decision making...a heightened self-awareness and assumption that everyone else is preoccupied with them too! A couple of years ago in a conversation I had with him, he mentioned that he also thought that new parents revert to this "imaginary audience" mentality when they first have a child and perhaps people continue to do this in periods of change and upheaval in their lives.

People who blog don't have an "imaginary audience"--they have a real, albeit absent, one. But sometimes I wonder whether it still inhibits or artificially guides what we do. What does this do to the way we live our lives? Does it change you? For the better? For the not-so-better?

On good days, I'm simply documenting our lives. {This is our scrapbook. I'll eventually turn it into one.} That's good. I'm putting my thoughts down and giving myself a forum to write. Also good. I'm uplifted by others' thoughts and inspired to try new things,

find the spark,
see thing through another lens,
love my children better,
make the cupcakes,
clean the closet.
All good.

On bad days, I am online too much--depending on virtual connections rather than real ones, writing about living instead of actually living. Or I feel envious of others' great posts & frustrated with my own piddly offerings. Or I wait and wait for comments, hoping to be validated by my part-imaginary-part-real audience. Or I see volumes of fantastic things to want and have and feel less satisfied with my own blessed bounty. Is this just me?

So that's where I've been lately: through the whole cycle of blog existentialism (if a family does something and it isn't blogged, did it happen at all??). It's all in the balance, I've come to think. I may sometimes turn off comments. If so, it's not you...it's me, my dear audience {and always feel free to e-mail me...I love a good e-mail conversation}. I may take some blogidays to try and find me some good, basic, joy and not write about it.

You know, just to keep my imaginary audience guessing.

Arranging marriages (slyly)

We've had a houseguest last night and today, a top-notch 11-year-old boy from Arizona. His dad (Hi Chuck!) and mom (Hello Angie!) are friends from wayyyyy back. As in, G dated Angie in high school (not as awkward as you would think. Anymore!), Chuck's one of his best friends from the old days, & Chuck and I were pals in person and by pen for years, etc. etc. (Logan people tend to play musical chairs with dating partners until the combination feels right, I guess.)

Anyway, as I was saying before I meandered into friendship geneology, Chuck had business here and brought his son S along for some quality time but needed a place for him to be while he did said business.

I excused Maddy and Sam from school today (we're Homeschooling for One Day, I told them) and showed them the town. We did the Old North Bridge. We ate at Helen's. It wasn't until I was sitting on a bench in the Museum of Science, watching them try out the experiments--laughing & teasing & getting along--that I started having Scheming Thoughts.

I have to admit it's happened before. Is it such a crime that my mind starts jumping ahead a decade (and a half...ish?) to marriage material? We don't live in a culture that arranges marriages formally and we certainly are past the days when property and social advancement and inheritance all depend on the advantageous union of two families.

Am I overly Mrs-Bennet-ish (When you have five daughters, Lizzie, tell me what else will occupy your thoughts, and then perhaps you can understand) to get giddy at the thought of matching my children with the kids of our friends? We know how they've been raised, we've watched them grow (albeit sometimes via Christmas cards), and we'de love to keep them in our lives FOREVER (too stalkerish?). We know quality stock when we see it (and S was such a cute, funny, well- behaved guest...great future material, I'm sure).

Here's the kicker: if kids get one whiff of this idea, it will never happen. There's no stronger ardor repellent than the maternal words "what about that nice [last name] boy?" for killing the passion in a young girl's heart.

So, instead. A holiday together here, a taped up Christmas card there. Exchanging e-mail addresses. One must start so early. Mrs. Bennet would be so proud.

Today.

Inspired by Tara Whitney's philosophy and photography. I've followed her for a couple of years and love her "just be" approach to life. When I visited yesterday, it was just what I needed to hear.

Cheered by the Jolly Porter. Oh, he makes me laugh! I will never look at a personalized marquee the same again. Wanna go in on the $25 fee to post one?

Relieved by the Take Your Kids to Work day that Greg's new employer is holding tomorrow. They'll do experiments and have fun (it's a tech/science-y sort of place). I'll have a little day off in the middle of Spring Break week.

Embarrassed by the fact that last week, on the day my blog hits almost tripled because of a nice mention by Design Mom (and she has also been very supportive of the Letters to a Parent project...thanks Gabrielle!), the post here was the one about how my kids may not regularly change their underclothes. Very not designy mom. You know the old adage about always wearing clean underwear just in case you're in an accident and have to go to the emergency room? {I never really understood that, by the way.} Maybe the same just-in-case principle applies to blogs and stranger-worthy posts? Just thinking out loud here... On the other hand, I have to just be me, come what may. Right?

Reddened by the overdose of sunshine from yesterday's spring break foray with the kids to Six Flags New England. Not that I'm complaining about a little perfect day of sun and breeze and blossoms combined with some greasy food and whirly rides...

Excited by the idea of throwing an outdoor dinner party in our backyard. In a month or two.

I think I'll need some cool strings of lights and maybe some gorgeous fabric to do a homemade photo booth.

photos via Lena Corwin's flickr

Frustrated by my own inaction on several home projects I want to get to. Really, I do! But the decisions involved (tile, paint colors, etc.) are holding me back. Get thee behind me, perfectionism! You are no friend of mine. (If you want to help, please tell me what are your favorite exterior paint color combinations for a farmhouse-style, village colonial type house?)

Romper, stomper, bomper, boo...

Tell me, tell me, tell me do
Magic mirror, tell me today
Did all my friends have fun at play?

Remember that? When I watched Romper Room, I would kneel inches away from our 1970's big square tv, hopinghopinghoping that Miss Julie would see me and say my name. Unfortunately, Annie wasn't that common and it was never to be. But still. I got close to that screen so she could see me through her magic mirror, just in case.

So, is it just me or does Katie Couric think she sees through the t.v. set, too? I like her as much as the next gal but I'm a little bewildered when she ends her broadcast "hope to see you here tomorrow." See? Me? Maybe she could start calling out random names, too: "I hope to see Simon and Linda and Margaret...[and Annie!please?]". I'm just saying.