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It wasn't until I was a middle-aged woman, a mother of two boys and heading toward a divorce that I finally asked my mother whether she had been happy in her marriage.
I certainly had my ideas about that; after all, her marriage was my main model, and I’d been watching her and my dad all my life.
And now that I was about to have my family torn apart, my dad sent me pleading letters — don’t do it! — while my mom mostly worried about me, how I’d survive.
So I wanted to know — had she been happy?
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I read a lot of mommy blogs — daddy blogs, too — and I've sometimes felt uneasy about what I've read and seen.
Lots of details about what the kids are doing, sometimes with snarky remarks; lots of confessions about frustrations, anxieties, anger over dealing with the kids; lots of pictures of kids being cute, or not.
If the kids are older and know what's going on (and give permission), that's one thing; when the kids are young, that's another.
Is it OK to reveal so much about our kids in such a public, permanent arena as the Internet?
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When I told a friend that I was going to — finally — start my own blog, she asked me "Are you a mommy blogger?" (well, after making a snarky remark about entering the 21st century).
I had a visceral reaction, which surprised me. It felt a little like a loaded question, like she was Dirty Harry asking me if I felt lucky — "Well, do you, punk, er Mom?"
Or like she was asking me if I were a good witch or a bad witch a la "the Wizard of Oz."
What is it about "mommy blogger" that give me pause?
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