Happily Unfamous

I remember the day I told my husband I wanted to write a book about our life. I had started this blog years earlier in which I vented about long days at home with small kids, and once in a while I touched on our marriage. Nothing too intimate, but I discussed how we overcame arguments, and gave advice to newlyweds about not getting mad at the little things like dirty socks left on the floor or whiskers in the sink.

My itch to be published came from mommy bloggers’ books that were flying off of shelves like hot cakes. Glennon Doyle had written “Carry On, Warrior,” detailing how to balance parent life and marriage with realistic expectations. A few years later, Rachel Hollis wrote “Girl, Wash Your Face,” in which she told readers how to be happy couples and have dream careers even while raising young kids. After reading those books, I thought, “Heck, if they can do it, so can I.”

But when I mentioned to Rodney that I’d be putting our life down in print, he wasn’t a fan.

“I’m happy to support you,” he said (and he really always has). “But I don’t want to be a chapter.”

He went on to tell me he understood my desire to write about our family, but that intricate details of our lives, especially our marriage, were no one else’s business. I admit that I was a little disappointed. Other women had aired their dirty laundry and were highly successful. If telling a few stories about us could potentially make us millions, what could it hurt?

Reluctantly, I accepted his wishes and put my project on hold. And boy, am I glad I did.

It wasn’t long before Glennon Doyle announced that her husband had been unfaithful and they were getting divorced. She married a woman a year later.

After Rachel Hollis and her husband spent a couple years promoting her book, recording podcasts about their “happy” marriage, and charging $1,800 for couples’ conferences, they divorced. Rachel then wrote a book called “Didn’t See That Coming.” I’m sure the hundreds of poor couples who forked out all that money didn’t either.

Looking back on other ordinary people who became famous by letting the public into their lives, I thought of Kate Gosselin, who gave birth to twins and then sextuplets in the early 2000’s. She and her husband let cameras follow them around their home in 2007, published a book about their lives called “Multiple Blessings” in 2008, and separated for good in 2009.

Perhaps some couples who tell the world intimate details about their relationships survive, but I’m pretty sure it makes the chances of success much slimmer. Marriage takes a lot of work behind closed doors. The pressure of looking good publicly is just too much.

There’s definitely been a change in the sanctity of privacy through the years. I now see husbands who write long, doting Facebook posts about their wives, and vice-versa. I’m not sure what happened to the hand-written card, or just telling someone face-to-face how we feel. Why is it now necessary to let the world know how much we love each other? Trust me, I’m guilty of sharing my feelings out loud (I guess that’s sort of what I’m doing right now). But I think if we all made it a point to get back to communicating privately, there might be less of a need for the icky, over-the-top image of “true love.”

After taking the chapter about Rodney out, I thought, “Okay, I’ll just focus on the kids.” Every parent would like to read stories they can relate to, right? I had written posts about youth sports, trying to keep my messy house clean, and why it’s okay if we don’t love every second as parents. My kids were little when I started this blog, and they were clueless that it even existed. What could it hurt if stories about funny things they did or said were on a Target shelf?

Turns out, kids only stay little (and clueless) for so long. As months went by, my freshman would come home from school and ask, “Mom, how did my English teacher know I shot a basket in the wrong hoop in 7th grade?” Or my cool middle schooler would say, “Mom, how did my friend’s mom know I still like to wrestle with Anna?” After explaining that I’d shared their experiences online for everyone to see, they looked a little confused, and not exactly happy.

I began to realize that as kids get older, they need the security of knowing that everything they do or say won’t be on display. I don’t want them wondering if I’ll write about their concerns or mishaps in a book, on my blog, or even on Facebook. Sure, once in a while I will share something they did or said that made me chuckle or roll my eyes, but it will be things that I won’t be afraid for them to read. It makes me cringe when I see long, heartfelt letters that kids have written to their parents displayed on social media. Those are meant to be private. If we want our children to keep trusting us with their feelings — no matter how old they get — we have to show them we can be trusted.

I guess the reason I’m writing this today is because life didn’t turn out exactly like I once thought it would. I told myself in college that I’d write for a national magazine, but once I became I mom, I only ended up writing for local publications. Then I kept saying I’d write a book about parenting, but life with small kids was really, really busy. Now I’m in this era with two kids in college and one in high school, and I have a little more time on my hands. Yet I’m realizing that achieving the “dream” I thought I had might mean not having this life I love. And man, do I love it.

As my oldest son approaches college graduation and my middle searches for his next landing place, I hear them talking about where they will work or what they will “be.” I know that having solid career plans is a good thing, but part of me wants to tell them their plans and dreams might take a turn (in fact, they probably will) depending on what’s best for their families. But just as I didn’t realize it until it was happening to me, I have to let them experience it for themselves.

What I can do as a parent, though, is let them know they have a safe sounding board and lots of support, and that I will always be here — whichever way their road bends.