Yesterday while cleaning out my crawl space I found a diary that I wrote in 1967 when I was 16 years old. I was overjoyed because I thought it had disappeared forever.  I have been keeping a journal since age 13 and have hundreds.  (Another story)  In there I describe my first kiss, "I wish who ever inventing kissing would have thought of something else, cuz I think its icky!"  I talk about boy trouble, silly girl things; I describe the first landing of the moon, and the Mansion murders, the death of a friend, mother daughter/father daughter problems.  Its not only funny, its a peak inside my personality and private thoughts and its ironic how they haven't changed all that much.
 
I thought my children would be more than interested in hearing a few choice tid bits from my long lost treasure, so I grabbed it on our way out the door to attend 5 o'clock mass.  I pictured a nostalgic ride down County line.  As I glanced over a few pages, I was cracking myself up.  "Guys, you have to hear this!  Does anyone want to hear this?"  They kept saying, "No we don't....really"  They continued to carry on a conversation and totally ignore me.  So, as usual, I just started reading parts out loud.  After a lot of groaning, my son said, "Mom, wrong audience!, wrong time."  Ouch!

We were on our way to church!  You would think they would have been kind to me and at least humor me and get a kick out of my enjoyment over such silly things. But no!  My husband, sensing my disappointment, said, "Do you really think we would be interested in the diary you wrote when you were in high school, what would we possibly want to know?" 

I said, "Well, how about the contrast in the times, the living history, my innocence and naiveté compared with today's kids.  "OK", he said, then read from the one you were writing last night!" 

I would never… ever …read that to a living soul, especially my family! I vent about all of them in there on a regular basis.  (another story)

Meanwhile, during Mass, I had a hard time keeping it together.  I wanted to cry!  My youngest asked me what was wrong, and I whispered, "I feel like no one in our house wants to play with me!"  She looked at me like I had lost my mind.  She said, "When did you ask us to play with you?"  I said, "Kate, it's a metaphor. No one is even slightly interested in anything I have to say. I used to be funny.  Or should I say, people used to think I was funny, but none of you know just how hysterical I am.  I need to go find someone who will laugh with me over some of the things I wrote in my diary." 

... just so you dont feel too bad for me, I did bring it to my high school reunion and we all laughed for hours over all the silly enteries. 

Anyway....Kate gave me a pitiful look and God bless her, she held my hand for the entire service.

Thank God I found this blog....thoughts.com
who knew it even existed...I really still dont "get it"

before I discovered it, I was talking to the back of heads around here as they were walking away from me.  I write to them, but they don’t bother to read anything.  I have written some very profound thoughts over the years to each and every one of them, pouring my heart out, offering them my love and support or sympathy or advice, whatever ...and most of these love notes have gone unopened.  

not to go off on a tangent..Actually a new tactic of mine sort of works...I write them notes and sign the dogs names....thats another story...I will share some of those masterpieces,  later.

I think they want a robot, instead of a living breathing mother with her own thoughts and opinions.

Not only do they not appreciate me, they take me for granted and do not think I am even slightly entertaining.  How many times have I pretended what they had to say …was the most interesting and important thing in the entire world.  Why couldn't they try to fake it with me?

Then to add insult to injury, when we arrived home from church that day, I headed back to cleaning the crawl space, and came across a box filled with my husbands high school basketball and football All American pictures, plus newspaper articles. I immediately ran downstairs and showed them what I found. You should have seen their enthusiam , crowding around him looking at everything, oohing and ahing.

Dejectedly, I slithered back to my crawl space unnoticed and was all alone with my thoughts of the good old days.  Going down memory lane on a deserted road is no fun especially when my husband's lane was overcrowded causing a gapers blocked traffic jam.  It would have been so much fun to be able to share a laugh or two with someone, anyone… over things I wrote!  
 
Just so you know, I more than welcome comments and thoughts! and thats another story.....