I’m not sure on blogging about my oldest anymore.
Sam is still little and doesn’t care. But I’m still careful about what I write when it comes to him. Because he is a kid who doesn’t like a lot of attention, and not that I think he’ll get any attention from my blog, but I’m still careful. With Julie – yeah, pretty much everything she does is still fair game for writing fodder. She’s young enough that I still feel like what happens with her is my story as well.
But with Jessie – it’s not as much my story any more. It’s hers. I’m still her mother, and raising her is still going to be a topic of mine, because… well, because I’m still doing it. I’m always going to have my story, as her mother, and I’m always going to need to write about it. But there comes a time when it needs to be less public. I think. Or more about me, and less about her.
I’m still feeling my way thru this (this actually could be my motto when it comes to parenting).
Jessie is growing up, and it’s not always easy. Lots of times, it is. Sometimes, often, it’s beautiful and funny and sweet and takes my breath away with how incredibly graceful and lovely it, and she, can be. But sometimes, the whole process is infuriating and frustrating and demanding. And posting about the lovely, beautiful stuff is easy – and there’s lots of material there. But writing about the hard stuff… the tears, and the yelling, and the battles over how her hair looks and why Sam is so crappy to her… that’s not so easy. It’s part of the story, but it certainly not a story that she would choose to be writing about.
So I don’t. Not really. I thought about a blog post about how a nap makes everything better, whether you’re a year old or almost eleven, but that would involve a description of what led to Jessie falling asleep at three o’clock in the afternoon, and that’s crossing the line. It’s not a line that’s clearly defined, but it’s there.
What do you think? When you write about parenting, how much of your children’s stories are fair game?
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