The truth of my life

At the risk of losing the tone of my blog, there's a few records I have to set straight. First, my mom and I generally get along. While I find her utterly confusing at times, she's a 'nice enough gal' (quick Jackie quote). And she's unusually good with little ones, which I happen to have three of. There tends to be some tension between our parenting techniques, mainly that I think she applies emotions to kids that I don't really think are there. Or at least as strong, with such long lasting effects as she does. But, really, that's small potatoes. Ned and I have a pretty slammin' social life, all thanks to Mimi. Ned knows that he can call on his way home from work, say he wants to go out, and if Mimi's home (and unless she's "baking like a potato" in front of the Blessed Sacrament, she usually is, or will be soon. She flexible as all get out), Ned and I head wherever it is that Ned wants to go. Not a bad setup for being together 10 years, not to mention three kids. We still have a lot of fun together, just the 2 of us. Someone once said that their therapist (or some sort of figure like a therapist) told them that their relationship with their husband should come before the kids. At the time, I was matriarchal and stubborn, and disagreed, thinking the kids should come first. I don't think I really even thought about if Ned was happy. My focus was entirely on the kids and I thought Ned could take care of himself. Somewhere along the line, I was (thankfully) set free of that mindset, and Ned and I are now proud frequents of Charlie O'briens.
Which brings me to my next point. My sister said, entirely inoffensively, that my blog could make me come across, if you don't know me, as "alcohol fueled." Ugh. I thought everyone knew my blog is blank pages for me to pleasantly exaggerate my life. My main focus is Ned, and my kids, etc. etc. But who wants to read that I'm working really hard at not yelling at my kids anymore? Or that at the moment Ned is cooking steak and my oldest daughter is making salad?  For realz, yo, no offense to my life, but it's really not worth writing my daily adventures. I thought I was doing my readers a favor by veering from the monotony of my actual life and taking you for a trip down Lois Lane. (My sisters used to call me Lois, and I think it's this character that illustrates my blog posts.) It's much more fun to turn 4 drinks to 12, and drinking at 7 pm to drinking at noon. And to make Ned constantly grumbling and Kiwi Herman a bit of a Mad Hatter. And Jackie as mentally ill as they come. I can't believe I have to clarify on my own da*n blog, but for the record I don't wake up to a wall of beer cans next to me. And my mom, to those under 21, is a spectacular figure of grace and virtue.