I love blogging.
Blogging, or rather the topics that I'm going to blog about, are quite literally constantly bouncing around in my head, as I mentally write and rewrite posts based on what I see, hear, and feel in my immediate or not so immediate surroundings.
Blogging has made me more in tune with my environment. I listen to conversations more intently. I study people's faces thoroughly. I eavesdrop like nobody's business. Most of what I think I will blog about never even makes it to a rough draft. But when I do blog, my rule is that I will never blog about something that I wouldn't say out loud.
And yet, when one of my teenagers told me that people at his school were approaching him, and saying that they were reading his mother's blog, my heart cartwheeled in my chest. In that instant, I realized that maybe I was also writing about things I wouldn't say out loud. Maybe in my blogging, I was taking my thoughts one step further; putting a spin on an otherwise boring conversation; throwing in words that are shocking and funny, and certainly not meant for adolescents.
In that instant I was ashamed of myself. Did I really want my children's teachers reading about my vagina? Would their friends make references about their mother's blog...or vagina? How embarrassing would it be for them to be walking down the hall, and have some stupid-ass teenager call out something as inappropriate about me, or about them, as I write in a post?
Immediately I deleted two years worth of posts on my personal blog. I wrote my editor here In the Powder Room and with a very heavy heart, I resigned my writing spot. I deactivated my Twitter account. I disabled the Facebook "Like" box on my personal blog.
I was done. That was it. I love and respect my children too much to be that "crazy" mother that we all remember from when we were teenagers; that mother who showed up at the school wearing two different shoes, carrying a crumpled, brown paper bag that she handed to her humiliated child.
I may not be walking through their hallways in mismatched shoes. But the written word can paint a far more vivid picture. I don't want that for my kids.
However, less than a week into my blogging retirement, my children came to me, and said something I'll never forget: "Mom, you shouldn't quit blogging. It's who you are."
It's who I am... Wow...
My kids are awesome.
They love me even though I am that crazy lady with the mismatched shoes.