An Itch I Can't Scratch

I have the itch to write and I can't scratch it. I haven't had the chance to write much since I've been home for Christmas. If I was brave enough to tell my family that I have a blog I need to keep up with perhaps I could ensure some privacy while I write - after all, four out of five of us have blogs. My mother has been blogging for a year, and hers is the only one I know the address to. My dad and my brother both have private blogs - that I have one shouldn't be that unusual.
But I don't want to tell her I have one. I don't know if she'd ask for the address to it or not, or if she'd go searching for it. I don't think she would. For some reason I don't want to risk it.
And I thought I was getting so good at taking risks.

My mom and I stayed up until 3:30 am a few nights ago, talking. We talked about family mostly...My brothers and the trouble my mom is having in letting go, in wanting to control their lives and the choices they are making. One experiments with pot, one is having sex with his girlfriend. Neither of those things seems very smart to me, but I am able to accept that I can't do anything about their choices. My mom can't quite grasp that yet, and I'm not very sympathetic because I can't understand why.
We talked about the possibility that we might not like the girls my brothers marry. That is something new to me. Before I just assumed that I would get along great with their chosen mates, but now I realize I might have nothing in common with them. And I'm realizing that I have to work on my relationships with my brothers. I have to work to have relationships with them, because Mom and Dad are no longer so involved with our lives as to be the automatic glue to hold us together.

Later -

I am on my way to bed after having spent the day driving. I drove with my mom to get my dad when his heart started bothering him at work (he works at a hospital so at least he got checked out before he left), and then I drove to town, again with my mom, to see "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" which I enjoyed and she didn't. She thought it was a movie without soul. My only big problem with the movie was Aslan's voice. He could've had a deeper, bigger voice. I think that would have made him seem like less of a tame lion. Even with that, I liked the movie.
With everyone asleep now would be the perfect time to write a short novel on here, but I'm tired.
Good-night.