I admit it, I didn’t get it.
In 2008, when Smarty-Pants Husband uploaded our Disneyland pics onto a self-hosted web-log to share with family/friends, I audibly scoffed at him. Why did we need a personal website?! We weren’t selling anything! He explained that we could continue to post photos there and journal online, but I thought it bizarre and, well… creepy.
When friends gradually hopped aboard this peculiar band-wagon, I raised my eyebrows. Why? Who were they writing for? Who was reading? What about privacy? When they posted photos of myself and my children without asking I was quietly horrified (yet simultaneously flattered). For the record, this is still uncool. Blogging etiquette: Ask first.
The concept of a public journal just didn’t compute. I’ve always found writing cathartic, but the diary of my youth was securely locked and tucked under my mattress, journals from early adulthood hidden, cozy in my bedside nightstand.
I’m sorry, Blogging Friends, I judged you.
I was wrong.
Like the time in high-school that I adamantly proclaimed I would NEVER wear the cheesy capri-pants making a sudden resurgence. I was wrong.
And the time I stubbornly argued and mocked (and bet a mocha) Husband for believing that the mythical Narwhal was an actual creature. I was wrong.
And pickled okra. I was wrong about that, too. That stuff is delicious.
Until we officially started our adoption process, my sole creative outlet (besides crafting with Popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners and Fruit Loops) was writing compelling real-estate ads for property listings:
“Charming (read: tiny) 40’s home with extensive original touches throughout (not updated) in up-and-coming neighborhood with great proximity to retail and easy freeway access (you probably do not want this). Easy-care yard (again, small) and motivated (desperate) seller. Call for a private showing!”
Not exactly filling the tank, but it was honestly my favorite part of the job.
In an effort to keep friends/family updated on our adoption process, we started this blog which has blossomed into much more for me, personally. I don’t care if anyone else ever reads our entries, but documenting our lives/journey has been a wonderful outlet– and the added bonus is a virtual time capsule to look back on. What a treasure for this mom who has yet to complete her eight and a half year old daughter’s baby book.
I realize some folks might still be skeptical and deem our public sharing inappropriate- even negligent- but we have taken deliberate precautions (such as not sharing our children’s names) and calculated the risk involved. Having a brilliant computer
hacker genius for a Husband is also advantageous in this regard. Much of the criticism that I’ve heard of in this arena is largely generational, though my own mother-in-law is pretty darn techy for someone born in the 1950’s. Not everyone is as cool as she is, though.
Guess what, skeptics? We don’t expect you to understand. Did your parents understand you, completely, when you were
in your twenties thirty-something? Keep an open mind and refrain from casting judgement.
And take my word for it and go try yourself some pickled okra.