Why the Face?

I read a few blogs quite regularly.  I am amazed by the wit of some of these writers.  In fact, quite honestly, I’m downright jealous of their talent.  They don’t shy away from their feelings nor the earthy language.  For most of them, it works very well.  For others, not so much.

Listen, I love me some salty dialogue once in a while.  When talking with girlfriends over margaritas nothing is better than dishing the dirt and throwing in a few words that would make George Carlin blush. When my cell phone fell in the toilet (don’t ask) I was fairly liberal with my displeasure. But my problem is, I don’t write bad language well.  And that seems to be very popular these days, writing and dropping the “f” bomb” as liberally as Jennifer Lopez files for divorce.

I blame my mother.  When I was younger and going who knows where she once warned me, “Pretend I’m always on your shoulder watching you.” Now what kind of thing is that to say to a young teenager?  I can’t shake it forty years later. I probably need therapy to wipe that mental image from my mind. Forget about “What would Jesus do?”  My brain goes psychotic when I think of my sweet mother sitting on my shoulder watching my every move. My first kiss must have been a real crowd pleaser.  I’m not even sure how I conceived three children.  So understand, that for me to type the “f” word is just about the same as me walking up to my mother and saying, “It’s so f-ing good to see you!”  It just can’t be done.  Even writing this makes me break out in a sweat.

But closer to the truth is that I have three teenagers.  My son, who is growing taller than me but is forever warned that I will always be bigger and stronger than him, would be tackled to the ground if he ever uttered to me any four letter word. He would be in a head lock before he even knew what hit him.  Don’t. Even. Try. It. Mister.

But let’s not regress.  There are many blogs out there that do it right and apparently don’t have the mother and teen issues that I have. I love The Bloggess.  I want to be her friend. I love Allfookedup, Scarymommy and Wag the Dad to name a few.  But you just won’t find that sort of thing on this blog.  Some people do it well, others don’t. I’m not one of them in this content.

Oh, and it doesn’t help that my mother joined Twitter so she could re-tweet my blog to her friends. She has two friends on Twitter.  Myself and my daughter.  So I’m surrounded.