What My Kids Think I Do When I Blog

This is what my kids think I do when I blog.

They think this is my audience.

This is kind of their philosophy on the whole blogging thing. They could be on to something…

And this is what they think I nosh on all day while I “play” on my computer.

When I started blogging, the reaction from my kids was mostly “That’s stupid Mom. Nobody cares. Blogging is just a bunch of middle aged bored housewives gossiping on their computers and nobody is gonna read it except for a bunch of old women and shut-ins.”

Whoa, kids. Don’t you think you’re harshin’ on Mom just a tad?

The source of the vitriol became evident rather quickly.

“It’s not fair Mom. You‘re always using the laptop to work on your stupid blog! Nobody’s reading it anyway. How come you’re always busy typing away on that blog!”

Ouch.

Aren’t my kids supposed to see that Mom is a viable artistic force outside the realm of motherhood? I’m contributing to the world view of society…or something. I’m supplying laughter in an otherwise cruel, distraught world full of misery. I’m doing my part, goddammit!

I know. That’s ridiculous. After all, as musicians, my husband, Kevin, and I don’t get any respect either. The kids see our band as “some stupid hippie folk band that doesn’t even rock.” I remind them that we do, in fact, rock. Oh yes we do. Unfortunately I can’t play for him the powerhouse Marshall amp stacked revelations captured forever digitally during my ill-advised Courtney Love period, where I implored people to “Quit Your Job” because “I’m not your whore”. Yeah. Don’t tell me I don’t rock, kiddo.

Kids are supposed to think their parents are massively uncool. And God knows it was easy for me to feel that way when my mother didn’t so much as play the kazoo, much less have a blog…which didn’t exist, by the way. But even Billie Joe Armstrong’s kids probably roll their eyes at dad sometimes. Actually, they probably don’t. They probably think he’s the coolest thing ever, but let’s not dwell on that point.

So once my numbers started to increase, I decided to show the stats to Max. I thought he might see things differently once I showed him that the blog reaches readers around the globe. I’d show him that his mom has a readership that reaches across a variety of cultures.

His response? “Geez Mom. You’ve got a person in Pakistan reading this? It’s probably some 40 year old creeper in his mom’s basement who found you while he was searching for porn.”

It wasn’t a great idea to let him see the keyword search either. “Real Mom Ass” is one of my recurring themes and it’s true…it doesn’t get much more real than this. Not that anyone wants to search that shit out. Nobody needs that much reality.

I’m the veritable Rodney Dangerfield of my household. No respect. “I told my kids they had a chance to hang out with a writer and they asked me when JK Rowling was comin’ over.” HO!

So I let him read some of the blogs I read. And he saw that they were funny.

But you know what really clinched it for my kids?

The conference swag.

I came home from my first conference with a couple bags of goodies that changed their minds, at least for the time being. It’s amazing what a mini stylus, some plastic drink cups, rubber bracelets and a Lorax tote bag can do for my reputation and credibility around this place. And the revelation that I’d met The Pioneer Woman elicited was a real game-changer.

Do they mind that I write about them? Not really. They’re already used to the occasional Facebook mention and I moderate a Facebook page about Max’s daily quips called Maxisms.

They’ve even started saying “You should totally write about this on your blog!” But often it’s “You’re not going to write about this on your blog, are you?”

Mostly though, I make sure not to write anything that will embarrass them. Too much.

Besides, it’s excellent leverage when I want them to behave. Although I would never actually do it, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.

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