I am a mom and I blog about my life, including my children, who are front and center of my life. I’ve written about the parenting challenges that I’ve faced, some of the funny and adorable things they’ve done and the passage of time.
It’s the stuff of parenthood and I’ve enjoyed doing it for nearly five years.
For five years during which daughter became a teenager. And hinted that she didn’t want me to blog about her.
The first such hint was a few years ago when she said “this isn’t for the blog, right?” when we were discussing something that she wanted to keep private.
“Of course not,” I reassured her. Because I always respect privacy and try hard not to compromise it.
More recently my daughter has voiced her discomfort more loudly.
“I don’t want you to blog about me,” she told me. There was very little room for misunderstanding what she meant.
And yet, I didn’t stop.
Not because I don’t respect my daughter’s wishes, but because I believe that the story of being her mother belongs, at least in part, to me.
If I were to write about my life omitting my relationship with her, it would not be my story. It would be a shadow of my story, a pale version of what I want to say.
So I compromise. I don’t write explicitly about many of the issues that we face, I acknowledge that many of the stories that I think are worth telling belong to her. But I hang on to the ones that I feel to be within my domain. Stories that would not mortify her at her wedding, or embarrass her at graduation. I write about me, and to the extent that she is part of my life, her.
I don’t consider that a violation. Do you?