The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

A Fresh Start

Some writers confuse authenticity, which they ought always to aim at, with originality, which they should never bother about. — W. H. Auden

Well I’ve been back in the blogosphere for about a week, diligently writing every day. If you are an old friend of this blog, you may have noticed two things this week:

1.) I added my picture and started including pics of my kids.

2.) I’ve attempted to clean up my act a little and focus on what I know, which is, in a nutshell, homemaking, motherhood, and storytelling.

Hopefully, this hasn’t frightened you away or bored you to tears. And if it has, well you’re probably not here reading this right now, so suck it, fair weather friends. If you ARE still here, thank you. I appreciate you and your loyalty.

Why the change in format? Well the secret blog/double life thing was exhausting. I’d rather just be myself, if that’s okay with you.

In order to move forward in the spirit of authenticity, I’ve removed many of my old posts. Some of them were mean. I’m talking Ricky Gervais at the Golden Globes mean. That’s not me. I’m actually pretty nice, unless you cross me, then watch out.

Some of the old posts were polarizing and political. Also not me. Sorry.

And lastly, some of the old posts were just over the top in the naughty department. I was going for the easy laugh there. Sorry. I’m actually not that bold, sexually deviant, or well groomed. Again, sorry.

I’ve tried to keep the posts that represent what I think are the real deal, or pretty close to it. Especially posts that are relevant to my new focus.

I hope you will bear with me as I ease my way back into this marvelous medium. I’ve missed this online community and the support and friendship that we share. Thanks for taking me back with such open arms.

One last thing.

Not even 24 hours after I convinced my Mom that *all* bloggers put their pictures online and promised her that I’d be safe and not endanger my children, someone found my blog with the google search: “dirty panties.”

Ewwww.

So much for a fresh start. Clearly I have lots to learn about how to use the tags and categories feature in WordPress.

Yes dear readers, we bloggers have ways of knowing how each and every one of you is referred to our blogs. We can see what search words and phrases you use when you are googling. And it is very educational.

Don’t worry Mom. I removed that tag from yesterday’s post. It was an innocent reference to an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction and I didn’t realize that someone would stumble across my totally non-sexual post about The Blessed Sacrament, my child’s speech impairment, and my static-cling woes by googling dirty panties. Problem corrected.

And to those of you with the dirty undies fetish, I apologize for wasting your time yesterday and hope that you found what you were looking for… far far away from me.

Authentically yours, and now with less static-cling,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris

7 Comments

  1. Hooray for the real you…Not sure I could stomach this suburban life with out it…Or if I would be able to do it as gracefully at the least!!! I still think your a rebel though and I love you for it!!! xoxo

    • The Bearded Iris

      January 22, 2011 at 8:35 am

      Thanks, sweetie pie. You always inspire and motivate me. Definitely couldn’t do this without you. Love you too!

  2. I think I like this new Iris even more than the old one!
    She has her act totally together. But then I am predjudiced!
    Great job!

  3. Iris… a perfect balance of nice and not so nice. if i were goldilocks i’d eat your porridge and sit in your chair (don’t worry, no dirty panties for moi).

    • The Bearded Iris

      January 22, 2011 at 3:41 pm

      Wait a minute… you AREN’T Goldilocks? Who’s that eating my freshly milled porridge?

  4. Iris, I never read your ‘old’ blog but this one is BRILLIANT! I just spent 20 minutes in hysterics tempered only by bouts of pure parental empathy. You’ve really touched a chord here. Authenticity suits you.

    Love, T

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