"Uh, Traci," I said. "Have you read the comments on the Manifesto lately?"
"No, why?" she replied. "Who left a comment?"
"Your eight-year-old daughter."
Blogging is a tricky thing. The whole idea is that it's supposed to be an online journal--i.e., a place where you can share your unfiltered thoughts and feelings. But you really can't. You can't say stuff about your neighbors or your coworkers or your family or your third grade teacher. If it's on the internet, people end up seeing it and it's there forever.
So what's left to write about? When I started blogging a decade ago (holy cow, A DECADE AGO!!!), I'd write about music and TV and life. Now I just write about my kids...which is pretty much all my life is these days. But now, apparently, it's not even safe to write about my kids anymore.
The other day, I wrote about Paige signing up for the school paper. In the post, I referenced Paige being embarrased by me:
"I know what you're going to ask me," she said, in the voice she uses to show me that it's totally annoying to even have a dad, "you want to know about the school paper."
A couple of days later, I saw this comment on the post:
"Hi!Its Paige!(The girl in your article)I just wanted to say that I didn't mean to sound like it was annoying to have you.(Sorry,if that ruined the article.)"
Great. Now I've not only embarrassed my daughter, but I've offended her, too. :)
After she looked at the comment, Traci asked me the same question that I'd been thinking, "How did she even find your blog?"
I envisioned Paige googling her own name or even setting up her Google Alerts or RSS feeds. (I wouldn't put it past her. She's very smart.)
But then Traci answered her own question. "I must have been reading the post and then left it open on the laptop."
So that's it. There's nothing safe to blog about anymore. I'm going to have to go back to writing my journal with pen and paper...something my kids will also discover. I guess I'll have to get the kind with the tiny lock and key.