Say hello to my imaginary friends

According to my husband I spend a lot of time with my imaginary friends.

You know, the ones I meet on the computer; the ones he fears may actually be depraved serial killers who live in their parents' basements and plot our demise, as opposed to warm and welcoming mothers (and fathers) who live lives similar to ours and genuinely care about us and our family.

He worries, he really does.

So Rob? This one's for you...

This photo was taken at a fabulous Mommy Bloggers dinner last night. (Thank you Johnson and Johnson). That's Catherine (and her camera shy boy Jasper) to the left of me. I sat beside her on the plane ride out to San Francisco in July and we didn't stop gabbing the whole time.

Huddling in front there is Katie, the girl in whom I've confided a fair bit over the past year because she has faced some problems similar to what we've faced. It's been quite a comfort because she gets it, you know?

Beside me, on the right is Karen. Remember we ran into her at that fall fair a few weeks ago and she recognized you first even though she'd never met either of us face to face? Anyway, I've been trying to meet up with her for months because I just knew we would click: I was right.

Finally on the far right is Chareen. She knows our sister-in-law LeeAnne (who writes recipes for me here) and has even tried her incredible squash soup, the recipe for which I keep meaning to post. They often freelance for the same magazine and she was at a party a few weeks ago where our niece Cailey played with her daughter the whole time.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say, to my husband and to anyone else who questions whether it's possible to forge real relationships with people you meet on the Internet is...yes.

Yes, it is possible, probable even. Because yes, the people you meet through blogging are real people. Yes, they have kids and jobs and husbands and joys and sorrows and stress that is similar to your own. Yes, they care about you and your family, just as you care about theirs.

And no, none of the ladies pictured are actually depraved serial killers.

At least, I don't think they are.

Addiction, blogging and the slippery slope

I am a bit addicted to blogging.

Like most writers, I constantly mine my own life for writing material. I admit I am flirting with addiction because sometimes, in the midst of an everyday crisis or a funny moment or even a poignant one, I think, This is going to make a really good blog post.

But I don’t think I really have a problem.

I think Lenore Skenazy has a problem.

Lenore Skenazy is the writer for the New York Sun who was all over the media last week after she wrote this piece about her decision to let her nine-year-old son navigate his way home on the New York City subway by himself.

She thinks parents are way too over protective and that they need to let their children be more independent and I don’t disagree, though I do think leaving a nine-year-old child alone to fend for himself anywhere is nuts.

But that’s not what really grabbed me about her story and the resultant controversy.

What bothered me all week is the worry that Ms Skenazy slid all the way to the bottom of a slippery slope that could one day trip me up as well.

I have never put Graham in an unsafe situation because I think it would make for interesting reading and I never will. But I think all writers who document their experiences for public consumption run the risk of falling prey to the desire to give people something truly gripping to read.

I think Ms Skenazy feels passionately that children today are over-parented and she knows that this is a hot-button issue for many people. I think she is a savvy journalist who carefully considered how she could make a compelling statement that would focus a lot of media attention on the subject, spark controversy and ensure that her views would reach a large audience.

I think she gambled with her son’s safety because she knew it would make a hell of a story.

Last weekend Rob and I talked about taking Graham to the zoo this summer. I’m looking forward to it and during the discussion I heard myself say, "It’ll be great. I’ll take so many pictures - it’ll make such a cute blog post."

Not until Rob gave me a look did I realize that without even thinking I had considered whether an activity we all enjoy would also translate into something my readers could consume. In just a split second, I considered whether a normal family activity was worthy of documentation and thought about how I would do it.

Many times, I admit, I have thought about how much great material is sure to be generated as Graham grows and struggles to grapple with the world around him. And then I feel just a little guilty that I so obviously mine his life for writing material just as I have always mined my own.

I will not be letting Graham ride the subway in New York City or anywhere else when he is nine years old, no matter how many people would show up to read about it.

But I have pulled out a camera to capture a temper tantrum rather than deal with it straight away. I did get in a few shots of his discomfort in some designer overalls that I loved but knew didn’t fit him. And I am the one who took pains to point out what may one day make him a target for bullies.

And these things I fear, my friends, may well put me on the edge of the slippery slope that Ms Skenazy slithered down earlier this month.