Yesterday I.'s camp called, just as I was about to feed N. lunch. It was the camp nurse; apparently I. wasn't feeling well, his stomach hurt, he was hunched over a bucket. She surmised that it was the heat (it was 93 degrees and about nine billion percent humidity), but suggested I come pick him up and give him a day at home. So I did. Of course, S. is away on business. Because that's when my kids get sick: when it's a federal holiday, or when S. is away.
This morning, I. was dragging his feet about going to camp. He ate his breakfast, took his usual hour to get dressed, made pleasant conversation. Then he complained about having a headache. Which went away. Then a stomachache. Which he claimed was better by the time we had to leave. I took his temperature, and it was 99. Or 100. Or 98.9, depending on which time I swiped the thermometer across his head. Yay for temporal thermometer consistency. Not.
I hemmed and hawed. He looked a little under the weather. But I wanted him to go to camp. I knew that he'd be bored at home, and terrorize his sister. I knew he wouldn't nap. Or lie down. Or do anything else that would potentially make him better. I told him that I would be happy to have him stay home if he was really sick. But that if he wasn't really sick, this would not work. Then I worried I was guilting him, and asked him if felt OK, for the eleventieth time. He assured me yes, yes, he was fine. So, conscience nagging at me, I packed him in the car, and sped up the highway to camp.
And of course, the call came just as I'd put N. down for a noon nap, just as she had gone to sleep. He'd thrown up all over his group's clubhouse. Would I come pick him up?
Sigh. I wished I could do the morning over. Did I ignore his symptoms because I wanted him to go to camp? Because it's a little harder to manage alone when the two of them are home all day, when they have such different needs? Why didn't I listen to my nagging conscience?
Yesterday, I wrote a post about the Chick-Fil-A controversy. I weighed my words very carefully, trying to said only what I meant. I posted, and waited. JeCaThRe commented, correcting me: that it sounded as if I thought all Christians denounced gay marriage, and that used the words "Biblically sanctioned" for marriage, when in reality, the Bible says all sorts of things about concubines and polygamy. [Edited later to add: let me be clear, I happen to really *like* JeCaThRe, and respect her observations about language ... this story may have turned out differently if it was someone else.]
I fretted, and went back to edit my post. Do-overs may not be possible in real life, but it's easy enough to edit something online (discounting cached copies, of course). I know that not all Christians--not even all Baptists are anti-gay marriage. I also know that the Bible is full of complication. I wanted to make sure I didn't give the wrong impression about my beliefs. I worried a little about whether editing it was OK, but decided to go through with it anyway, because the edits weren't substantial (just clarifying, and I included a link to Cathy's statement). But it nagged at me anyway.
JeCaThRe deleted her comment, which no longer really applied to my post. One of the things she wrote, which I really wanted to preserve, was this: "We'd do better seeking out companies that match our ethics than trying to play "gotcha" with the companies that don't." It's a good point. And it's an approach that's a lot more manageable than combing through the records of companies to find out where they're spending their profits.
But having her delete her comment made me realize I was having second thoughts about do-overs in blogging, especially given my own ruminations lately about truth in our writing.
SO: What do you think? Is it acceptable to edit a blog post to more properly express what you meant in the first place? Or do you need to stand by what you originally wrote, even if it's not quite what you meant? If so, do you need to make disclaimers? Where? How? Is there a certain amount of time in which edits are OK?