#1 Cardinal Rule of Blogging
I messed up. I violated my #1 Cardinal Rule of Blogging.
My husband is not allowed to read my blog. He’s been quite understanding about this – in fact, I think that he’s probably a little relieved. He knows I am a needy person who craves unreasonable amounts of encouragement. There is no way he can win here. Either he reads it and responds with passionate praise, and I think he is lying to make me feel better or he reads it and gives me the lukewarm response, which crushes me and sends me into one of my infamous funks.
Now, allow me to pause a moment to tell you about my wonderful husband. He is sweet and kind and a fabulous husband and father. Two of his more bittersweet characteristics, though, are that he does not like to read and that he is honest.
That he doesn’t like to read can be good because he does not always have his nose stuck in a book, like yours truly, letting life pass him by. And the rest of this post will explain why being honest can be a bad thing.
After penning what I thought to be a clever and slightly humorous post, my daughter found me chuckling at the computer. In a moment of insanity, I vacated the desk chair, and let her read about our bulldog’s decorating fetish.
She laughed at exactly all of the right places, was a little confused at the bulldog’s name change until I pointed out the asterisk at the end of the entry, and laughed even harder that I was trying to protect “the guilty”.
“You should show this to Daddy,” she said when she finished.
And I broke my cardinal rule.
My husband silently read the blog and, at the end, said, in that slightly higher-pitched, I-better-say-something-nice voice, “That’s cute.”
That’s it. I guess I should be glad that he didn’t call it “interesting” or “different”.
Uh oh. Lukewarm praise. Not a good sign. Now comes the Silent Fuming. Then comes The Discussion. Then the “I’m not Fuming; what are you talking about?” Finally, the Real Discussion. Then the reassurances which I will accept but not believe. Then life will go on.
The thing is that I always get mad at my husband when I am really mad at myself. So, I guess I should say, “I’m sorry, Hon, for taking out my frustration about my oversensitivity on you.” OR, what I really mean to say, “I’m sorry, Hon, for asking you to read my blog when I knew No Good Could Come of This.”
Too bad he’s never going to read that.