![]() ![]() I have not seen my son’s face - REALLY seen it - in almost two full days. I was suddenly glued to my phone and my laptop for what seemed like hours at a time, confusedly trying to make sense of the angry responses…until one morning I looked down at the baby while he was nursing, and my eyes refocused. They wrote seven-paragraph dissertations, lambasting me for all manner of things. Hundreds of disgruntled people flooded to my site, frantically waving their IN DEFENSE OF THE LOVE YOUR SPOUSE CHALLENGE! e-banners. It is not your job to do that, so thank you, thank you, thank you for being here.īut a glance through the comment section of that particular post tells a different kind of tale. I don’t know how to thank you the way you deserve it - for helping me carve out a new non-teacher identity in California, for your kindness and support, and for making me feel like I’m writing for a reason. ![]() Never underestimate the power of Facebook.Īlmost everyone who shared it recognized the levity of the post, and I appreciate you endlessly. ![]() I went to get the kids up from nap and sort of forgot the post existed.īut by the time Al got home from work a couple hours later, it was taking on a life of its own…and within a week, it had over half a million likes and shares. Several minutes passed before anyone acknowledged it (thanks, Aunt Becky!). He read the entire thing before I hit “publish,” and the next afternoon I shared it with my 916 Facebook followers. Ironically, pretending to fight actually makes you laugh really, really hard.Īt first, we figured our friends and family might get a kick out of the (staged) candor and that would be it. He set up our cheap-o tripod and hit the timer button on my iPhone and leaped into the scene just before the shutter activated. He went with me to buy the ridiculous amount of beer for the fridge. He helped me brainstorm ideas for the seven photos. There might be just a little more to say. Parents magazine ran a piece about it.Īnd finally I thought, I don’t know. My face hung in a semi-permanent, nervous state of flush - because, while investigating a possible heart condition, it is an incredibly good idea to write a post that somehow makes a bunch of people want to kill you. I responded to dozens of interview requests, from marriage therapists (all of whom had fabulous senses of humor, thank God) to TODAY Show writers to Ashton Kutcher’s media outlet. I learned to skim the first two lines before deciding whether or not to finish reading. So I continued to let my stomach drop each morning as I awoke to hundreds of unsettlingly hostile emails. My site crashed on three separate occasions. In the space of just a few days, the Love Your Spouse post was viewed more than 4.3 million times. Please, please, don’t explain or respond.” That same husband turned to me on Day 3 of the viral craziness and said, “Controversy is a good thing, babe! You shouldn’t do anything that might stifle it. You may remember him from the pictures - the husband I “disrespected” by “airing dirty laundry” for the whole world to see, the one who should be all pride-wounded and mortified that I have done this to him. So this time, I feel like maybe it’s important to be literal up front, to just come out and SAY what this post is about.Īnd since this is a post about irony, here’s your first ironic snacklet: my husband begged me not to write this follow-up. The last couple weeks have demonstrated that an alarming number of people are super confused when it comes to identifying the underlying theme of something (which makes the English teacher in me curl up in a ball and sob a little bit). ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |