The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the blog post

So my mother reads my blog. Well, not my mother actually, she bought a laptop six months ago, finally got her internet access set up, and still hasn't managed to check her email account, never mind navigating the big scary internet. It is my mother-in-law who reads my blog. She really likes it.

She mentioned it the other day and it made me think about the way we write these things. Online diaries, yes. Entire truths, absolutely not. So though I will tell you about my kids and even reveal a little about the things I might struggle with, I am not going to write really painful things about my friends and family. I wouldn't want them to read it.

There is the story about my parents canceling the hospice nursing staff. There is the awkward thing with one of my dearest friends. There is the frank discussion about my financial situation and the gigantic wad of cash that we lost on our house (though, hang on, I might actually bitch about that one in detail soon).

The reality of this whole online experience is that you get honesty, but just a slice of it. The rest of the pie is still there. But those things are the leftovers, tucked away in a waxy pastry container that I keep in the back of my pantry.

Sometimes even I'm afraid to take a peek inside that box.