Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Peace, Anonymous

The positive thing about getting Anonymous comments that are -- let's say -- critical, is that they inspire some thought for me beyond caregiving and dildos and the weird Swiftian farce that is unfolding at Sony. Yesterday, a reader left a comment on my Oceanside Hustle post, suggesting in that ever so gentle tone of the righteously passive-aggressive that I should stop complaining about lacrosse and, rather, begin reveling in the blessing of having a son who can participate in sports.


Reader, I felt the ping of insult and the pang of hurt. I might have felt the teensiest bit righteous, myself. I left a quick and flippant lighten up reply, but I also recognized that queasy you are way too exposed kind of feeling, and then I did a little navel-gazing and figured the reason why I felt these pings and pangs is because there is always a modicum of truth to every bit of criticism that hurts us. I do complain a lot on a moon, worn as if it had been a shell, and I'm hard-pressed to feel grateful for anything on some days. I think a lot of bloggers would agree that complaining is easy to do and can be almost enjoyable, particularly if it's couched in humor or sarcasm. At risk of sounding defensive, my complaints about the trivial stuff in my life (the constant sports watching being the main one) are surely balanced by the obnoxious number of posts where I stand in awe of the two wildly accomplished, beautiful sons that grace my life and the profound and graceful presence of my amazing daughter, all three of whom are such individuals that I can't take any credit for their being other than the literal bones, tissue and flesh with which they're knit from my own and their father's bodies.

But maybe I can do better.

My gratitude for this good fortune overflows.  I'm also alive and dancing on this tired earth as fast and as best as I can.

Peace Anonymous. Now go get yourself a stiff drink and lighten up.


  1. Yes, "Let It Be A Dance You Do"!! Instead of a drink, I'm going out for Indian food. I once asked a friend from New Delhi what kind of wine they had with their meals. She told me they usually drink straight scotch. On second thought, maybe I'll do the same.


  2. Good Lord. You know, I don't hear your lacrosse posts as complaints at all. I actually get your great joy in your son's beauty and abilities and have a chuckle at the tongue in cheek look at how parents behave around high school sports. And trust me, my husband was one of those screaming fathers and I am not in the least bit offended by any of it. Don't take this one on, my love. How awful it would be to feel as if the only posts we could ever write were dripping with gratitude! How the hell do we get to gratitude if we cannot express and work through the things that make us feel less than grateful. Those of us who come around here daily love and appreciate you no matter the space you are in in any given moment. We WANT to know the authentic truth of what you are feeling, not some Hallmark version of it. So with all due respect to anonymous, do you. Big hugs.

  3. beware of the "shoulders" and don't go shoulding yourself. xoxooxoxoxox

  4. Truth is a good thing. I'm fond of uncensored emotion personally. I think maybe it's time for a rant on my own blog. And certainly my own caregiving weight is less than yours, uncensored truth be told.

  5. Screw that person Elizabeth. It is your blog and you express plenty of gratitude and I just hate that you feel you have to state the obvious love and adoration for your kids. I hope it wasn't something I said as I was the only Anonymous commenter yesterday. I adore you and your writing. Sweet Jo

  6. Reading this made me tear up. I am pissed that you felt hurt and that you felt you needed to explain.

  7. You know what I think. Which is- fuck 'em.
    You're the best mother I know. And I'm sorry, not all of us dig the shit out of watching sports, even if our kids are playing. That is just an honest truth.

  8. Yeah...I have a real problem with someone being sanctimonious like that, particularly anonymously. No...that was not cool and you really needn't explain yourself. You are plenty appreciative and plenty grateful. Those of us who have followed you for a while know that.

  9. I couldn't sit and watch lacrosse, or any other sport for that matter, all day even if my son was playing. I have a short attention span that way, so I am in awe of your ability to do so.

    To be honest, doesn't matter what you do it will upset or irritate someone.

  10. If we needed sweetness and light all the time we would spend our days in a Hallmark store. I read your blog because of your open and honest accounting of your life.

  11. Your life is your life and this is your blog. That "advice" was rude and presumptuous and stupid. And I love your posts about the boys, they are funny and poignant and also remind me of my life 15 years ago or so.

  12. As Oscar Wilde says, "The only thing worse than people talking about you is people not talking about you." or something like that.

    It's your blog. If they don't like what they find here, then they can leave. No questions asked.

    FFS what is WRONG with people???

    I still love you


  13. Like Angella, I never perceived your lacrosse posts as complaining -- at least, not in a serious way. I love the dry humor with which you approach your "unibrow" and the dildo conversation, and at the same time I can tell you love your children and enjoy being part of their lives. I mean, you're driving them all over Southern California, for chrissakes. You wouldn't be doing that if you weren't invested and didn't care. So, yeah, that person needs to lighten up.

  14. Here I am, making a comment. And do you know why it's been so long? Because things SUCK. I hate everything a lot of the time. See, I'm complaining and taking the blog-world (and other forms of writing) as a beautiful and helpful space.

    You can be funny, but I think you can also be grouchy, furious, sick of being a parent (I've been having that and being reassured by parents and friends), and selfish.

    I love what Ms. Moon said: Fuck 'em!



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