Anyone who has ever tried to start a blog with their mother will relate to this post. Even as I type she offers her many suggestions and ideas.
"Amy I think you have to explain it first. Amy I don't think you can do that people aren't going to understand it."
"Mhhm." I mutter.
"All right whatever." She declares as she flounces to the other couch and grabs the remote.
This is the start of my new phase: me, mom, dad, my life partner, two dogs, and a cat all living here at Heir Head Manor. Heir Head Manor is a home for many generations. My parents purchased it several years ago as the house where they would eventually retire. When we meet as a family, we meet here at Heir Head. Heir Head has been the place for celebrations, happy memories, and family togetherness, but it's not always a sappy love fest. Living together isn't always easy but sometimes it neccessary; after being unable to find a job and spending months searching for one while the debt mounted and creditors called I had no choice but to throw in the towel and head home. I am truly blessed that it was a home my parents opened to me.
"Oh it's Jane Fonda." My dad saunters in ensconsed in his plaid bathrobe.
"You know she's seventy four now don't you?" My mom rolls her eyes as she speaks thumb poised on the remote the channels flip rappidly.
"What are you doing Aim?" My dad asks.
"She's blogging." My mom replies stopping her tour through the channels.
"Oh" my dad responds "why are we watching this it's in French."
This is my typical Friday night not all bad and highly entertaining and the comfort is that long after my parents, and I are gone and only the younger generation remains the same conversations will echo through the walls of Heir Head Manor.
"Are you blogging?" My sunshine looms up behind me. "You need to spell manor wrong it needs to be Heir Head Manner. Write a blog about writing a blog."
"You better watch it she can make you look bad she has already made me look bad." My mother warns.
One of the pitfalls of communal living is constant lack of privacy. There is no door to the room we currently occupy so in order to gain any measure of seclusion we close the curtain. I have told my mother more than once if the curtain is closed then don't come up. The only results I have achieved so far are that she screams my name before she flings the curtain to the side and marches up the stairs. Even though quarters are close eating dinner together, watching movies, and spending time makes it all worth while.
"Hey let me see that" my mother muscles in and grabs the computer. "You can't be the only one who reads the blog." She scans through what I have written.
"What do you think about the blog?" I ask.
Her voice is tenuous. "It's ok."
I groan, and this is why you never start a blog with your mother. Heed my words and come back to see what happens next at Heir Head Manor.
