Well, let me just say, honesty? Definitely the best policy. I wrote yesterday’s post in a flurry of emotion and frustration and posted it without thinking twice. Later on I thought, “Sweet mercy, what did I just post on the internet for everyone, including my mother-in-law, to read?”
And for the record, I cried again while I read through all of your sweet, encouraging comments. I think all mamas just need to know that we’re not the only ones who have contemplated running away from home, or better yet, packing our child’s bags and letting them run away from home, because after all, we’re the ones paying the mortgage.
So, thank you from the bottom of my heart for responding to my raw honesty with your heartfelt sincerity. Seriously, I can’t express how much all of your encouragement meant to me. We’re all in this motherhood business together and I personally don’t have room for someone who claims to LOVE! EVERY! MINUTE! of being a mama.
But now, let’s talk about something really important.
American Idol.
I normally don’t talk about American Idol because I believe that Boomama does an excellent job of covering the highlights and lowlights every week (much like she does with her hair), but I just have to make a few comments because Gulley called me yesterday and asked, “How is it that I am late for the party known as American Idol?”
All I could tell her was I have no idea, but I am equally guilty. This is the first season I have ever watched AI and truth be told, I only started watching because Boomama promised it had more drama and tears than The Bachelor, and if that’s the case, then count me in.
I partially blame my initial lack of AI interest on Survivor.
P and I were big Survivor fans during Season 1 and 2 while Survivor mania gripped the nation, but then Season 3 came along and we lost interest. I quit believing in the entertainment value of reality T.V. and chose to watch more highbrow television, such as reruns of Seinfeld and ER.
If I am perfectly honest, I felt like maybe I was too good for American Idol and its throngs of devotees, which is more than ironic when you consider that I watch The Bachelor.
I can’t believe how wrong I was.
It’s a travesty of epic proportions that I have been missing out on this level of entertainment season after season. In fact, Gulley and I even wondered today if we could rent the past seasons on DVD. We don’t even care that we know who won and we wouldn’t be able to watch Kelly Clarkson without wanting to hear her sing “Since You’ve Been Gone”.
We feel like we were late for the prom, but without all the pastel taffeta and alcohol concealed in flasks.
Tuesday night was Gulley’s first night to ever watch, and she only turned it on because there was nothing else on. She called me Wednesday and before I could even say hello, she asked, “What is up with Paula Abdul? Girlfriend acts like she’s taken a baker’s dozen of the Percocet.”
And with that comment, we were off and running.
“Oprah needs to call Sanjaya and tell him she wants her hair back”
“Why would anyone try to make Motown all electronic and modern?”
“Endless Love is a bad enough song without changing it to make it worse.”
“Don’t tell Diana Ross (after she tells you that she wrote Missing You because of her sadness over the tragic death of Marvin Gay) that you’re singing it because you miss your fiance in San Antonio.”
“I have got to find me a dress like the one Stephanie Edwards had on last night. She may not win AI, but she’s my vote for best dressed.”
“Why does everyone think Simon is so mean? He’s just honest.” (Granted, I am married to someone who lives by the code that if you don’t want to hear the truth, then you better not ask.)
Two new American Idol fans have been born, and along with Sanjaya and his hair, we’ll be back next week.