Blogging is Hazardous to my House

I’m a stellar parent. Really. My kids are growing up secure in the knowledge that their mother loves them and is teaching them how to be happy, responsible, well-adjusted adults. They have no confusion about what’s right or wrong. They know how to behave and they never veer from what their moral compasses dictate. There’s only one little, tiny, almost non-existent problem . . .

I blog.  More specifically, I blog about my kids.  This means, there’s a small conflict of interest.  When my kids make a giant mess or do something stupid, the wonderful mother in me wants to discipline them, teach them to be responsible, have them clean up the mess, and make them understand that they shouldn’t do it again.  But the blogger in me goes for the camera to document it every single time.

For example, on a regular basis, I tell my kids not to bring miscellaneous creatures into the house.  Yet, last night, while making a video, I not only didn’t admonish my kids for dragging creatures into the house, but I encouraged them to do it. 

“Hey guys, do you think you can go find a few frogs and put them in my bathtub?”

“But Mom, you told us not to put living things in your bathtub.” The kids stared up at me, their brows wrinkled in confusion.

“I know I did.  But now I’m telling you to go ahead and do it.”  I explained.

blink, blink, confused look

“So we can put frogs in your bathtub now?” the kids asked again.

“Tonight you can.”

“How about lizards?   Or alligators?”

“Alligators?”  I asked, horrified.

“Yeah, what if we find a baby alligator?”

“Oh please don’t ever put any alligators in my bathtub!” I pleaded.  However, as the words left my mouth, I felt quite certain that I would indeed find an alligator in my bathtub one day in the not-so-distant future.  I contemplated instituting a new ‘You Are Never Allowed Outside Again’ rule, but on second thought, decided that I’d have new blogging material when if my kids ever bring home an alligator.

These days, after getting caught making an exceptionally big mess, my kids no longer look downcast and remorseful. No, nowadays they look up me, hopeful, as they tentatively ask, “Are you going to blog about this, Mom?” It’s hard to get mad when a kid drags mud into the house or walks inside wearing a lizard on his face when, at the same time, I get excited about the blogging material.

I’ve decided that writing is definitely hazardous to the condition of my house.  But, ironically, it sure does encourage blog fodder.  The more I blog, the more blogging material I accumulate.


Now, if you’ll excuse me, the kids have left me a piece of postimpressionism art rendered in shredded cheese that I need to take a picture of.