So I’m on the soccer field and a Dad looks at me knowingly, “I googled you and it was, um, fun.” The Mommies look at my slyly and whisper, “please don’t talk about the time I ______.” No worries, darlin’ I don’t tell your secrets to anyone.
I do, however, share my kids’ secrets, and some people think that’s bad.
Are Mommy Bloggers in the business of exploiting their children? Short answer? Oh yeah. Long answer? Yes, and we’re entitled to it. Let me explain why.
1. I’ve changed their names (maybe) an eeensy weensy bit. I won’t tell you how, but I will tell you why, and changing your child’s name, even just by one letter is critical. When Jane goes to apply for her first real job they’ll google (or use whatever search engine has taken over) her name. I haven’t written anything damning about her, but it’s unfair for my child to lose the opportunity to make her own first impression, even if I can do it better.
2. I’ve earned it. I went from being a 110 pound 26 year old bride, to a 186 pound baby making whale. Even my earlobes got fat. It took me two years to get back into skinny jeans and a month after that I found myself pregnant again. Guess what folks, when you give up your youth, your beauty and your freedom you get snarly, I’ll write whatever I want, whenever I want, it’s all I’ve got left and I’ve earned it.
3. I’m saving you the trouble. Let’s face it, if you’re a blog reader, you’re a hopeless gossip anyhow. If I didn’t write about it, you’d talk about it, at least this way I can control the content.
4. It’s universal. Everyone has a birth story (you don’t want to hear mine, they didn’t hurt and it was totally civilized) when we talk about our birth stories it’s less personal than you’d believe. Every woman has one, we need to chatter with each other about it, we also have potty training stories, sleep stories, PMS stories and I think I’m going to die of loneliness stories. Although there are children mentioned in the stories, they are about us. I own those tales.
Sometimes there are moments that are simply too grand to keep to onesself. Women of toddlers often ask me when they knew it was time to stop letting their sons see them naked. I don’t know the answer for you, but for me there was a very memorable day at Bloomingdales. I was in the stall with Alexander and it was that time of the month, in a very crowded restroom he started screaming and pointing, “Mom look! You have a tail!” And that, my friends, is why Mommies must blog.