There comes a moment in every blogger’s life when she has to take stock of her life and ask: do I have any shame left?
I have admitted a lot over the years, and it’s all out there, ready for a Google search to bring it flooding back. Heaven help my child when I open the parental controls on her laptop.
Yes, I have read 50 Shades of Grey. And the two books after it. The writing was horrible, but I read ’em. So there!
Yes, I got married at 18. And let every reader who landed on the AOL homepage on the day I wrote about it know about it.
I’ve lectured Michelle Obama on talking about her girl’s weight, after admitting I myself was bulimic.
I’ve admitted to watching cartoons. Alone. And liking them.
And yes, I have screwed up as a parent. Loads of times. And I’m not exactly embarrassed by it … .
Ok, I liked. There was that one time when she fell off the front steps, when I was RIGHT THERE. Her face was a mess of black and blue and red, and we had to go to the district attorney’s office the very next day for an interview for this here paper. And my kid looked like she’d been beaten senseless. That one was embarrassing.
But, I once let my child watch six hours of TV in a day. And I was called out as one of the worst parents in America by the parenting expert at Good Morning America for it.
Try inscribing that one on a gold cup! Because I am proud of my foibles, or at least my ability to admit them.
Because I can embarrass myself for the sake of all those other imperfect people out there who are afraid they’re totally alone. You’re not. We’re all screwed up. Some people are just better at screwing up in public.
Have you “liked” Inside Out Motherhood on Facebook yet?
Image via Alex E. Proimos/Flickr