Busted!

You have probably noticed by now that this blog is anonymous. Shocking as it may seem, my real name is not Potty, or indeed at all related to loos, kookiness, or anything else included in the dictionary definition shown on the side-bar. (OK, well, occassionally I might do something silly - but that's still not my name...)

It's anonymous not because I have anything particularly earth-shattering to write about, or scandalous, or secret. No, it's anonymous purely for the selfish reason that I want to write what I want, about whom I want, when I want, without fear of upsetting anyone and also - if I'm honest - without worrying about what any of my nearest and dearest think of my blogging style. It's taken me a little while to find it, and I'm happy(ish) with it . And if I feel that I'm looking over my shoulder all the time, then the words won't flow so easily.

Clearly, I'm not writing high-brow literature here. Nor, even, anything worth publishing. But I like blogging, it makes me feel as if I'm achieving something other than wiping bottoms and clearing up snot, so I don't want to feel stifled in any way.

This is why I haven't given the address of this blog to anyone other than a couple of girlfriends who I rarely get to see for logistical reasons. Not even Husband has the details. And if I'm not giving the details to Husband, I'm surely not planning on giving them to anyone else.

But he has them now - because this morning, I gave them to him.

Yes, I was busted this weekend - and it was completely my own fault.

I mentioned to friends that I wrote a blog, and that I enjoyed it. When they asked for the details I explained that since Husband didn't have them I wouldn't be comfortable for them to, and thought that was that.

How naive can a person be? Google can find anything if you key in the right words - and it found me.

Of course, I knew this day would come - eventually. But you know what? I thought I would care more. And I must admit that when I spotted their visit via Sitemeter, my pulse did race a little. But then I took a look back through my own posts, and actually, I really don't mind. In a way, it's quite liberating not to have to worry whether Husband has or hasn't bothered to find the details.

In fact, Mariel, if you're reading this now; thankyou, you did me a favour. I'm relieved it's finally out there... (but am still planning on keeping our parents in the dark. What? Surely you don't think I'm completely potty?)


And now, an excerpt from an early morning conversation with my beautiful Boys. Standing in the kitchen, knocking back my daily quota of vitamins, EFA's, organic tinctures and so-on (I swear, you can hear me rattle when I walk to the breakfast table), I suddenly became aware of two pairs of eyes watching me solemnly from the doorway.

Boy #1: "What are you doing, Mama?"

Me (thinking, I don't want them climbing up here on a chair to help themselves when my back is turned, so better not make it sound too attractive - and isn't it amazing the safety filters automatically installed in mother's brains?): "Oh, I'm just taking some tablets and stuff. To make me feel better."

Boy #1: "Why? Are you sick?"

Me: "No, no. It's just something that grown-up ladies do..."

Boy #1 (in apparent astonishment): "Are you a grown up?"

Me: I certainly hope so.

Boy #1(in even more astonishment): And are you a lady?


Good question...