I began Scary Mommy as a love letter for my kids—a modern-day baby book of sorts. I’d never been one to keep track of first steps or jot
down first solid foods, and I thought if I did it online, there might be a
better probability of success. I’m happy to report that my blog has been that baby book; keeping track
of little stories and experiences that I never would have otherwise remembered.
It is, indeed, a gift for my children and I love that. It’s everything I wanted
and more. It’s just the modern part that I’m starting to struggle with.
I wonder what happens when my kids are no longer little enough to
warrant a baby book? Do I just close up the blog and let other people tell
their stories? Do I keep having more babies so I will have more blog fodder? Do
I keep writing about them, even when they clearly don't appreciate it? These
are the sort of dilemmas that just don’t exist with a traditional baby book.
Do I keep having more babies so I will have more blog fodder?
How will my Lily feel about the posts I write on her raging mood
swings? On her relationships with friends? On the time she puked on the school
field trip? Will Ben be upset by the video I posted of him whining for grilled
cheese yet again for dinner? Will Evan appreciate the pictures I posted when
his hair was so long it bordered on abusive? Will the very site I started for them become something they hold
against me during their dreaded tween and teen years?
It’s a strange road that we mommy bloggers navigate. I've wondered
on more than one occasion if the stories of our children are even ours to
tell. We put our children in the public eye, through no choice of their
own, to document parts of their young lives. They have unwillingly become
guinea pigs; the first generation of children belonging to bloggers. It's a
Truman Show-ish experiment that we're dabbling in, and the outcome is entirely
unknown. I like to think that they will see that everything I write really is
done with love, but who knows if that will translate when they’re all looking
for ammunition to hold against me.
It's a Truman Show-ish experiment that we're dabbling in, and the outcome is entirely unknown
Evan, only 4 years old and my youngest, has become the center
of most of my pictures and stories as his experiences are still the most
generic. There’s nothing too personal or specific about tantrums or preschool, so it seems like safer territory to me. I’m making an effort to now write
things that are relatable to other parents, and less about my kids on a
Ben is my most sensitive and bashful child and has begun to refuse
having his picture taken, a fact that frustrates me to no end, given that he
also happens to be my most photogenic. But, I suppose this is the first step
toward letting them navigate their digital future … and ensuring that
they won't hate me in a few years.
Or, at least that they won't hate me for the blog. That's the best
I can do.
This post is part of our blogging carnival where we explore how the online world has helped us as moms. Read more about it here - Welcome to mom.me