Busted

"Did you write today?", my husband asked me. This is a strange and leading question from a man who normally doesn't engage me in conversation and prefers for me to confide, confess, and inform. He selectively listens, knowing I'll repeat it 10 to 12 more times.

"No, I didn't have time today, but I am working on a few pieces that I want to edit before I send them to you," I said.

"I'll be the first one to read it, right?" he said. "Another strange and leading question. Maybe he found my blog," I thought briefly but quickly dismissed it as insecurity or sincerity.

"Well, you'll be the first person to read the whole thing, but I always try out some material in my emails to Stephanie first," I said. I left the room to avoid additional questioning.

Taking joy in my integration he followed me to the kitchen asking, "So, when do the kids start Chinese lessons?", a slightly more bizarre question but this time showing interest in the kids. Perhaps he is reading a self-help book on communication, I rationalized.

"Mid-January," I said, "Kids use your indoor voices."

He said, "I know those kids are so loud, I'll probably go tone-deaf."

"Tone-deaf. That is a phrase directly off my blog. When did you find it?" I said.

"What blog?", he coyly responded.

"The blog that I have been keeping for four-months without you knowing. When did you find it?" Since I was clearly caught with no real explanation, I had no other option but to attack and question the questioner.

He never admitted to the when and how. But the when was probably that day, and the how isn't too hard to figure out. For months, I have been sending him emails cut and pasted from my blog. A little thing called a search engine retrieved my deception.

Anticipating his fury, I was ready with my rebuttals. "I take care of your four kids. I need a creative outlet" , "Writing keeps me off of antidepressants" , "If you read my blog, I can't write about you", "What if I wanted to write about my past, I didn't want to hurt your feelings," "Everyone needs a secret cyberlife," and if he got rude "I needed a blog to go along with my Facebook and MySpace pages. Need to maximize online opportunities for meeting men." I was ready for anything that he dealt.

"I am proud of you," he said.

(Hi sweetie. Love you bunches. Thank you for taking care of me and the kids, so I can write whatever I want whenever I want. Please give the baby a bottle and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Your Dear and Loving Wife.)