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 personal level.
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
