I struggle back and forth (with myself) about blogging about my family. It doesn't bother ME, but would it bother them. I obviously don't use my hubby's name, I wanted to keep it anon. since he's more well known in our community. Why it didn't occur to me to protect the identities of myself and my kids, I'm not sure. Or maybe I am.
I don't think about anonymity. I don't crave it, nor do I intentionally seek attention.
When I think about my own childhood, it would be pretty cool to have an online record of my mom's thoughts and feelings. What she went through when she was rearing us. I can hear her now, telling us how dorky she thinks her writing was. She did write in our baby books, but a blog is so much more.
I picture my kids as teenagers, telling me to cut it out. And I would, if they asked. I picture my kids as adults, asking what I was thinking when I dressed them this way or said that about them. I picture them as part of a huge new generation of people whose parents all kept track of the minutiae of their childhoods. Everybody will have a childhood blog. They'll all have their own blogs. Or not.
Either way, I'll keep writing. I enjoy it so much. I see it as a fun way to remember some of the smaller things that go on in our day to day life. A place that stores our small history together. It's safe to me. I like it here.
For now, it will continue.