Someone pointed out to me, in a not so kind way, that I write more about Son No. 1 than Son No. 2. Which, truth be told, is a fair assessment. Son No. 1 and I share a common interest—speed skating. I take him to meets, go to his practices and partake in the sport myself. I often write about his speed skating experience because it is also a part of mine.
Apparently I'm scarring my kids by writing about one more than the other, which is almost laughable considering I count grapes as I put them onto plates to stop any snack fighting.
Almost laughable. But not quite.
When I first started writing, my boys were young—a small child and a toddler. I felt that their story was mine, and in a way it was. The not sleeping through the night was about them but also about me because I was not sleeping too. The sibling rivalry and fighting was them but also about the mother trying to figure out how to MAKE IT STOP. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STOP. Our stories were a woven tapestry making it difficult to define where mine ended and theirs began.
But now they are older and are aware. They know I write about them and like many other bloggers, I had to figure out how I was going to continue writing about them.
So I simply asked. I sat them down at the table and asked if they were okay with me writing about them. Son No. 1 said it depended on what I wrote. Son No. 2 was at first an adamant 'no,' but then changed his mind to an "it depends."
Now I ask them on a one-off basis. I will write a piece and if I reference one or the other, we will sit down and read it together. They have the final say in whether or not it's published.
What it boils down to is Son No. 1 says yes more often than Son No. 2. Simply one child who's okay with it and one who is less okay with it.
This picture here? It was originally going to only be Son No. 1 but then Son No. 2 asked to be in it. He also didn't mind when I shared this birthday card with the internety world. Because this entire post was about Son No. 1, we sat down and read through it together. When we finished, he gave me the thumbs up to publish.
This works for us as a family. There is no favouritism involved and quite frankly, I was a bit pissed that it was implied. My first response was to get my shit all up in a knot and respond with something superbitchy. But whatever. The internet is a weird place. I've come to terms with it.
Now excuse me while I go count some grapes. It's snack time and I wouldn't want to scar my children.
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