A mommy-writer’s worry

I write about a lot of things – politics, naughty bits, love toys. I wax philosophical about financial issues and have been known to share with readers the joys of meat-free living.

For this, I’ve earned a buck fifty and tons of hate mail.

What? I suffer for my art.

But nothing worries me more than when I write about parenting.

You see, I don’t want my kids to suffer for it, too.

Granted, no parent is perfect. If my kids get embarrassed by what I write because of the language I use or they cringe over pictures of me in a bathing suit one day, I will direct them to several support groups they can join within the family.

Strength in numbers, boys.

But I don’t want to sell *them* out. I’m quite careful, believe it or not, when writing about them. I don’t use their names or current pictures. I don’t talk about anything too serious or personal, as it relates to them. Granted, this is all subjective and they might feel differently, but I hope they read my memories years from now and see pride and joy when discussing these little men and the adventure of a lifetime that *is* being their mom.

I don’t like kids, but I adore my children.

And I still worry.

Reading this article, by Julia Baird, I couldn’t help but think,

“Christ. What the fuck was wrong with Winnie the Pooh?”

The article is a quiet reminder to parents who write about their children: Be careful. If a wholesome story about a kid and his stuffed bear can send a person into therapy and lifelong angst, what do you think your blog post on sex ed will do?

Not all of the article is noteworthy. Baird is a typical mainstream journalist ranting about self-absorbed bloggers,  self-promoting hacks on Twitter and oversharing mommies on Facebook. She reminds me of someone who went to Yale, goddamn it, and doesn’t like getting upstaged by uneducated writers who never moved out of their mom’s basement.

But when she scolds Julie Myerson, a British author who wrote about her son’s battle with drug use…

But surely the most fundamental, un-spoken pact you make with your children is that you will shield them when they are weak. Surely Myerson too must have also whispered the quiet promises mothers make to wrinkled newborns: I will walk barefoot on the sun to keep you from harm, I will circle you with wool and steel, I will never abandon you.

Kids mess up; parents do, too, when they forget that their only real obligation is to protect the child from the world, not offer him up to it.

…all of us should pay attention.

And think before we write.