This is my blog, and I can do with it what I please. It is all within my decision to write about weird things, things that go through my mind that make sense only to me, emotional journeys, mental breakdowns, issues I am struggling with, etc. This is all fine because it is my blog and these are my experiences.
However, when it comes to my experiences that happen to intertwine with someone else's journey, I am more hesitant to pour it out here. That is not my call to make. Yes, I talk about my children here, but less so as they get older and more and more in a broad sense. This is to protect them and not sell them out. But I also have relationships with other people that mean very much to me that also take me down paths that I'd love to talk about here, but do not feel I have the right to. So that being said - if you find me talking vaguely about something or something seems as if it has a story behind it, well, it probably does. And this is why you may not hear it.
Now let's carry on, shall we?
I want to talk about something very briefly that disturbed me yesterday as I laid in bed trying to make my body heal my open wounds.
Okay - let me preface this by saying that odd things happen when I am told to rest and do nothing. I watch reality TV. Stupid daytime reality TV. I have no idea why this only appeals to me when I'm sick or on pain meds or otherwise told to sit and do nothing. During my normal life, I don't really watch tv except what I have DVR'd - and even those stack up like crazy (I have 21 episodes of Lost to be watched right now).
I don't watch American Idol. I don't watch anything about any bachelors or survivors or racers. (Okay slap me now ...) I don't even watch anything about home makeovers, extreme or otherwise. We do watch Deadliest Catch, and have since the first episode, and have oddly deep knowledge now of king and opilio crab fishing - like what it means to place a "string of pots" and and how many crabs in a pot is a good number, etc. Oh dear.
So when I'm grounded, apparently my brain cell count decreases exponentially with my energy level; because I sit and watch episode after episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. But it must be something in my DNA, because my sister does the same thing. HA! See what I did there? I just got through saying I wouldn't talk about my relationships with other people, and then I went and threw my sister under the bus!
So now along with the 8.5 trillion other things my sister and I have to talk about every time we ring each other up, we talk about when Scott got so drunk that he ruined Kim's birthday dinner, and when Bruce and Khloe and Kourtney took Kris's dress hostage and got Bruce's dignity back, or when Rob was given Viagra accidentally by Kris (it was meant for Bruce). Ahhh - now that's quality reality television right there, y'all.
So upon watching the Kardashians yesterday, I inadvertently stumbled upon another, equally time-wasting reality series called, Pretty Wild about a former model who is raising her three daughters in Hollywood. The disturbing part is this. During the show, she says that she homeschools all three girls (who range in age, I think, from 15 to 17), and has based her entire curriculum on the movie, The Secret.
I am not even kidding you, chills ran down my spine and I instantly felt completely lucid and out of my pain meds. That is about 48 different ways of disturbing, people. They are taking this crap and basing their lives on it.
I was so immediately grateful that I am raising my family based on the word of God, and insanely grateful that my mother raised me that way. Because, and you've all heard it before, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. And my mother wanted us to stand for the truth, and that is what Sean and I want for our boys.
It was a sobering moment. Thank you God, for my grandmother and my mother, who are responsible for raising me with my beliefs, and who are now responsible for us raising our boys with their love of God.
Now, if God could only help me not watch the Kardashians today, I'll be one step closer to sane.