When God Speaks

Or rather,  when the Blog Gods slay you. I’ve talked before about why I’m glad God is not a blogger. I’m going to assume God is out there doing more useful things instead of ignoring her/his children and putting in Elmo for the tenth time that day. I’d like to pretend God does not tune me out when his/her website goes wonky or when there is a deadline for work. I’d like to think God never drops me off at day care or leaves me to nap on cots three inches off the floor while she/he grabs a latte.

But sometimes that God is a hardass. Sometimes when she says, “Thou shalt not blog” and one particular person goes, “Oh yea? You wanna watch?” like the inner-two-year-old she is, God will lay-ith the smackdown on the site.  God and my website have been in the ring for a week now duking it out. I’m really not sure who’s winning. I will say, though, my website is taking a few hits pretty hard. She’s a site for sore eyes, I tell ya.

About a month ago, I crawled in to bed and asked Mr. Flinger how long I expected to keep up this website. How long did I think people would want to read about our pathetic sex life or my musings of motherhood.  I asked him what I will do when we have this other baby. I pestered him to tell me to stop. I wanted him to tell me I’m a much better person when I’m not blogging. That blogging is interfering with our lives and I really need to cut it out. He didn’t. Instead he told me to post about our sex life as much and as often as I wanted to. “You laugh more when you blog,” he replied. “Personally I don’t need our family reading about my sex life but on the other hand, you seem to need to write and that’s on your mind so write about it. Laugh about it. Don’t stop.”

I was shocked.

All these years I forced him to read an entry here or there. “Read this,” I’ll say. It’s a theme in our house; me posting about him and then asking him to read it.  He’ll laugh, because he gets me, turn away and say, “That’s a good one.” Either he’s being extremely insincere or he really doesn’t care that I write about us. “US” as a topic, which so many of you can relate to. “US” as parent. “US” as individuals lost in our own goo of parenting and work. Somewhere in there, blogging helped me remember we are “US”.

Then shit went down and I started to write a list of reasons I thought the Universe was yelling at me to stop. I actually started a list. I’m really that anal. I’d scan it for you but really, it’s a lot of BLAHBLAHBLAH All- Those- Things- Each- Of- You- Ask- Yourselves- Every- Effing- Night- Before- You- Hit- Post. I just never think before I hit post and I started to think one day and couldn’t turn it off.  Then there was the near death experience. The realization that moments after almost getting swiped to the Netherlands I think, “Oh, I’ll have to blog about that…” There was the pathetic realization that I am blessed beyond the computer, beyond a metaphor for real life. I was actually blessed. In. Real. Life.

And I tossed and turned and still have no answer. But the longer my site and God rack it out in the ring with slow-loading-pages and DNS issues, the more I’m feeling it’s a sign.

And I thought I didn’t believe in signs.

Posted: 6/2/2007