My name is Wendy S.

and I’m a blog addict. Okay, not really. But kind of. I came across this post today at Bloggers Anonymous. I don’t know how many of the signs one needs to exhibit to be considered an addict, but I’m a little nervous. I wonder where the meetings are held? Probably online….

And on a lighter note.

We went to dinner last night for Andrew’s birthday. Hillary, our server, asked what we’d like to drink. Max ordered a Coke. Davis said he’d also like a Coke. Reed said he wanted a margarita.

Hillary replied, “There is not enough ID in the world for me to serve you a margarita.”

So he ordered a Sprite.

Eureka.

Something interesting happened since my last post. I realized that many of my friends – online and off – feel the same way I do. They feel alone. This is good and bad. Good, because it’s very reassuring to find out that I am not alone in feeling isolated and outside the cliques. I’d say “looking into the cliques” but I’m not. I don’t think most of you are either. Except on those days when it feels lonely to be outside. And for me, those days aren’t frequent. But they do happen. I was really surprised by some of the emails I got. I didn’t know you felt alone. Or scared. Or lonely. I wish I had. And I’m glad I do now.

And I feel badly that none of us realized what each other needed. That we needed to check in a little more often or that we need to know that if we’re having a bad day – even if we don’t usually chat on the phone together – that we can call each other. That sometimes, we just need to tell someone about that incredible purchase or the near miss or the funny thing that happened at the grocery store.

And I’m a little sad that our society has made us feel that needing more seems, well, needy.

I have a great life, as I’ve told you all. But sometimes, driving down the road, I just want to call someone. Just want to make a connection. And sometimes, there is no one to call. More than sometimes.

Why do we live this way? It didn’t used to be like this. When our parents were our age, they sat together for coffee when their kids were in school. Or they had daytime bowling leagues. Some even worked, but the community seemed closer.

I’ll check in with you more. You do the same, okay?

One of the gang.

I’m not. One of the gang, that is. I have friends, don’t get me wrong. But I can’t remember a time in my life when I felt like I had a circle of friends. And around here, there are circles. Lots of circles. And there are people I socialize with in virtually every one. But I am not in any. Hard to explain. Let me put it this way, when there is a birthday lunch for a friend of mine, her friends might not (read: usually don’t) think to include me. When a bunch of ‘girls’ go to a new movie and dinner, I’m not invited. (Exception – last night JG invited me to join a group to see Keeping Up With the Steins. I declined – it was past my bedtime! But nice to be invited. Funny, too, since I used to be a Stein…)

Tonight, one of the moms at our school invited a lot of women over to play some games and hang out. And she invited me. I don’t know who will be there. I don’t really even know who her circle is. But I’m going – Moroccan Hummus in hand.

And it feels a little like the first day of school…

Mad.

Did you read Mad Magazine as a kid? I thought it was hysterical. We used to rattle off Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions. We talked about Alfred E. Newman as if we actually knew him. I remember my mother thinking it was all silly stuff, but I remember my brother and I thinking it was just the funniest thing ever.

The other day, I was cruising a magazine stand and lo and behold, I saw Mad Kids. I had to buy it. And boy, was it a hit. The boys sat reading it together and cackling and hooting like crazy.

We read a lot around here. I have no problem with comic books and silly magazines. Reading – all reading – has value, in my opinion. Sure, I like when the kids read serious books. And they do. Reed just finished a book on Saddam Hussein. Davis asked for books for his birthday. Max was reading a sports almanac the other day. So what’s the harm in Archie comics (can you believe they’re IN again?) ?

Reed turns 9 next week. He asked the hub if he could read The DaVinci Code. I grew up in a house where the rule was, “if you can read the book, you can read the book.” I never read The DaVinci Code, so I asked the hub what he thought. My impression was that it was technical and detailed, but I really didn’t know. (I know, I am the only person alive who hasn’t read it.)

So I came home from errands with the other boys and Reed’s baseball game had been rained out (not a little – it was a torrential downpour!) and he was reading that book. I interrupted him and asked if he understood the words. My expectation was that the vocabulary was just too difficult. He said he understood. I asked him if he thought it was too mature for him. He handed me the book and suggested I read the first chapter.

Oh my God. First of all, it had a lot of very big words. And complex sentences. And things he could not possibly understand. But then I got to the words “deviant sex” and closed the book. “Reed,” I asked, “what do you think?” He replied that perhaps he should wait until next year.

Next year, my ass.