Privacy

Sitting in bed last night, I started thinking about why I haven't been writing in my One Line a Day Journal since the middle of summer.  It feels like I went on a quiet strike and subconsciously wanted to try and stop the marching on of time.  The jotting down of little quotes, soccer game scores, animal deaths on our street, and weather observations came to a screeching halt around the time we went to Alaska in August.  I've religiously kept this daily journal for over the past four years.  It is one of my most prized possessions and now I want nothing to do with it.  It's irrational to think that by ceasing to record our daily happenings it will somehow slow down time here in our household.  I know this and yet I can't bring myself to write in this journal any longer.  It makes me too nostalgic and sad for my son's younger years.

G's 11th birthday back in April 2014

I also noticed that I didn't do a birthday post for Grady's 11th birthday.  Or for my 44th birthday.  Both milestones I've happily recorded in the past.

So much has happened to me since my 43rd birthday post a little over a year ago.  That post was edited a wee bit and turned into an essay that appeared on Mamalode.com entitled Snap.  I started writing again and made this little blog public.  I signed up for Write Doe Bay, a writing/creative retreat, and attended same in April.  I've made dozens of new friends (a big surprise at my age).  I've been drawing every single day since January 1st of this year and stretched myself in so many new and invigorating ways.  So why wasn't I coming here to write all about it?

Two months ago, Grady started middle school and I recently made a vow not to write about him here on the blog, but I'm having a hard time.  He turned 11-1/2 years old yesterday (see, I'm already breaking my vow).  We marked the occasion by measuring his height on his door jamb (4' 9" to be exact).  A bi-yearly ritual that tracks his growth and stretches my heart during the small morning ceremony.  He grew an inch over the last six months.  He's also grown in so many other ways that cannot be ticked off with a big fat black Sharpie.  He's evolving and transforming into a young man right before my very eyes and, to be quite honest, it's a little hard to take.

Blogging about my days should naturally include my son, right?  It's hard to cut him out of my process, as he fuels me in so many ways creatively and as a human being.  I want to walk the walk in terms of putting myself out there, following through with an idea, taking chances with my art and life.  I want to find the beauty in every day and share ideas, images and feelings with others.  I want to be kinder, softer, more open to the world.  I want this for my son, too, and I want him to see me doing it in real time.

An old friend recently wrote to me and asked if my husband had died or if we divorced because she didn't see a mention of him in my recent blog posts.  This made me pause and think about why that is.  My husband is a private, introspective person.  He doesn't need bells and whistles on anything.  He isn't into social media and he's mildly confused by all of the sharing people (um, I mean, his wife) do on Facebook and other social media outlets.  He's pensive, thoughtful, intelligent.  So why do I give him the privacy he deserves, but yet I take Grady's privacy for granted?  Why is my life only worth sharing if I'm doing so through my lens as a mother?  I don't have answers for all of these questions, but I'm searching for them.

There's also the hypocrisy factor at play here.  I am adamant that my son can't be on social media, yet I share away on Instagram like it's feeding my soul.  Sure, I ask my son if it's okay to post a picture of him on there, but will he feel differently next month about it?  Next year?  Why do I need to share him via this outlet?  If I'm so sure that he can't handle the social media platforms right now, why am I drawn to it and inserting him at my own whim?  Shouldn't I be protecting him from all of this?  From what, exactly?  Again, no clear answers.

Will I have to abandon this space and start anew?  A move like that seems disingenuous to me and I'm working on having more real, authentic conversations and moments in my life, not less.   Would I act as though I have no family, when they give so much meaning to my existence?  These have been hard questions.  Lots of pondering and reflection, which is good stuff, too.

It's complicated, right?   Sharing images and pictures of my little boy seemed like a loving thing to do  when I started writing in this space and a way to honor and capture our lives as they were unfolding.  But now?  Now I'm not so sure.  Now it feels like I'm exploiting his privacy and over-sharing.  His peers could pop on over to this site and see things that might embarrass him at school.  As the days progress, he's getting older and pretty soon this will all matter to him in a way that it doesn't right now.

Having an only child is the choice we made for our family.  What started out as a happy surprise, has turned out to be my life's greatest gift.  I'm not being melodramatic here.  I mean it.  Being a mother is my nirvana and has opened up the way I see the world and interact with it.  Seeing how we're teaching him right from wrong gives me great pleasure and responsibility.  Exposing him to new authors, artists and music is fun.  Hearing his views on life and the natural world fills me up in a way I never would have known had we not had him.  Watching him try new sports or a math equation brings back a sense of wonder about the world that I kind of forgot about.

But isn't this his story to tell?  I'm not sure how to straddle both worlds and do it gracefully.  I'm torn between telling my story and honoring his.

It's no wonder I've noticed a lot of bloggers writing less and less as their children get older.  An imaginary line seems to have been drawn as the kids approach middle school and I didn't get it before, when my son was only a single digit in age.  I'm starting to get it now.

Documenting and list-making are my thing.  They give structure to my days and I get to act like an historian for our family.  I don't want to give that up.  After perusing my blog, I think I've landed on what I like about it and how I can morph the practice of writing into a small exercise in cataloging our lives in a way that respects the privacy of the two guys I live with.

What I've come up with is a little kick-start to my writing routine to help phase me out of writing about my kid in an overly sentimental and way-too-much-information kind of way.  I get a lot of satisfaction out of reading blogs written by women I respect and glimpsing their domestic lives.  I love recipe-sharing, simple DIY's, and lifestyle stories.

Therefore, I think I'm going to pop in here a few times a week to share what recipes were a hit in our household; what books or articles I read that I think my friends would like; and movies, too.  I'll also share what art projects or home renovations we're doing.  Design and thrifting are becoming passions of mine and I love the chance to reorganize and refresh a corner of my home.  I'm going to write what I know and what I like to read.

I guess I'm reorganizing & renovating this blog space in a way, too.  It's time.

I hope you'll follow along and let me know what you like to read here and any feedback you have about writing about your children and how you reconcile their privacy issues.  I have so many unanswered questions, but I truly look forward to the process it will take for me to figure out the answers.

That, my friend, is my real life right now and I'm slowly embracing it and trying to sort it all out.  Wish me luck.

Happy Monday, friends.