Monday, March 28, 2011


One of my darling daughters-I'm not saying which one- is upset that I write about her on Facebook. (I don't even KNOW what she'll say when she remembers this blog!) She does not appreciate me sharing stories about her, even among friends. She said she does NOT appreciate my posts. Her life is HER business.

I told her that I love sharing stories about her. (I realize that this sounds selfish.)

I told her that I would never share things that would humiliate her. (Now that she's ten...when she was little, I did share about mermaids in the tub, Tom Men, and having a "dent." See previous blogs for further explanations.)

I told her that the world loves to hear the intelligent, funny, adorable, quirky things she says.

She gave me the eyeroll.

"Please!" I begged. "How can I write about just one of you?"

We came up with an agreement. I will let her read and approve the post before "putting it out there."

I honor that. I would want the same thing from someone writing about me. I feel like we've just taken a giant step toward Teenage-land, but she's only ten!

I will keep my end of the agreement. I will NOT post anything about her on Facebook without her approval, even though writing is what I do. I will be consciencious toward her feelings.

Essentially, I now have an editor. A ten-year-old editor. I feel her gaze on every word I type.

How do newspaper columnists write about their families or their world without getting into trouble?

What about people who write novels that are "entirely fiction"?

NOT writing about my family (including this daughter) is like not using my arms for the day. Writing about the people I love is what I DO.

So I will go forward, cautiously writing tidbits that are probably meaningless to most of the world, all the while knowing that they mean everything to my ten-year-old editor who hopes to keep a shred of privacy and dignity despite having a mother whose life is like a coffee table book of art, open for the world to see.

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