It’s Sunday night, and it’s been a Weekend.
I didn’t have much planned, which was good, and neither did Bill, which was also good, because our children had plans, and these kept us busy. Two playdates, one sleepover, one birthday party (for two people) and a middle school dance. Oh, and youth group. Yep. Busy.
But last night and again tonight– after (yesterday) housework and yardwork and schoolwork– I have found myself surfing the web, just looking and looking and looking at blogs.
I saw an article recently that said blogging is the “low-brow” use of the internet.
I’m not going to say anything about that.
I will say that there are a Whole Heck of a Lot of Mothering Blogs out there. Lots of blogs from mothers who’ve lost babies (yes, I was weeping), lots of blogs from mothers with young ones, photos of adorable children, smart and acerbic comments about mothering said children, blogs about homeschooling, blogs about un-schooling, blogs about sending children off to school and what to pack in said children’s lunch boxes. I am Not Kidding. And I am known to (occasionally) contribute to one of these blogs and am very pleased to do so.
But I am noticing something: my posts about my children, whether here or elsewhere, are decidedly becoming Fewer and Farther Between.
(Actually, all of my posts are becoming Fewer and Farther Between, and that might be worth posting about. Or not.)
The thing is, it’s relatively easy to write things about young children. They are funny. They are quirky. And every parent can identify with the exhaustion, the exhilaration, the hilarity found in the despair of losing a night’s sleep or a favorite teddy bear or an adorable sock on the walking trail.
But writing about older children gets tricky. One must be careful what one tells. Not everything is appropriate for the world-wide-web (or, for that matter, one’s small but appreciated readership). Some things, when written and posted At Large, would be a Betrayal.
You, O Reader, have been twelve before. And also nearly ten. I think you know what I mean.
For all this, I will say that my Dear Friend Lynne doesn’t seem to have this problem. But her photograph-connection-between-the-camera-and-blog thing is working just fine. I think that helps.
Yeah, I have to get that fixed.
So yes, for now, at least, you have fewer words about Will and Everett and, even, Emma Grace. Maybe it’s the fault of their ages. Maybe it’s that pesky photograph thing. Or maybe my mind is growing old.
Oh, hang it all. I’ll try to do better this week. Honest, I will.