News flash: If you dislike my column, DON’T READ IT! Seriously, no one is making you sit down with your cup of organic coffee and peruse my articles. Turn the page, avert your eyes, or simply toss the paper straight into recycling. But don’t email to tell me I’m a terrible mother or that my husband Doo is an abusive spouse. Don’t send letters that ask how in the world my children will remain out of prison and/or fat camp or how I must find Jesus to save my soul from eternal damnation (a path I’m clearly on!) You can certainly keep on judging me and my choices; I’m just asking that you keep the mean stuff to yourself. As we say in school, “You’re exhibiting bullying behavior!”
I’m not exactly sure where the current string of personal criticism was spawned. I’ve kept my topics non-controversial and rather benign, and focused mostly on the antics of my four children and bald Sugar Daddy. Until last week, I’d had a fairly good run of little to no hate mail. Nevertheless, recent expressions of “distaste” dictate the need for the following reminders about my column.
I’m a math teacher with neither a degree in English nor in journalism. I rely on my good wits, Spellcheck, and my amazing editors to keep me in the “language clear.” Occasionally I invent words or deliberately [meaning: on purpose] defy the laws of grammar. Basically, I write how I speak, which almost always includes nonsensical vocabulary and incomplete sentences. So there.
Doo and I have been married for eighteen years. We still laugh a lot, enjoy spending time together, and periodically frustrate the bejeesus out of each other. I choose to share the aggravating moments because they’re far more interesting and entertaining. This should in no way imply that we’re headed for divorce. Trenton again, perhaps, but not divorce.
I believe my children are healthy, happy, and acceptably well-adjusted. True, they fight incessantly, have messy rooms, don’t make their school sports’ teams, sometimes eat PopTarts for dinner, are addicted to all forms of “electronical” devices, and occasionally get grounded for bad grades. I imagine they’re like most kids. I’m not ruling out future therapy or incarceration, I’m just saying they are normal.
I rarely exaggerate and never use hyperbola. (That’s a math teacher joke.)
My writing motto is and always has been, “Keep it Real!” If you want to read about Stepford wives, look elsewhere. But if you like following the antics of the sole Democrat in central Indiana whose ginger-status keeps her spicy, then you’ve definitely found the Promised Land.
So let’s keep the meanness to yourselves, people! Peace out.