I also heard the CBC broadcast about mom putting her child on a diet, telling about it, then being concerned and surprised that many objected to her actions in relation to imposing a diet.
Is it imposing the diet or telling about it all? About her child’s struggle?
I do a lot of things that people would criticize if they were to know.
For example, sometimes when I’m mad I swear at my children. And in day to day life, I don’t often swear, so it’s weird and horror show like– like a demon gets hold of me. If I reveal this character flaw, I expect people might (even should) be critical. But if my children told this story, and others tsk- tsked, I think I could even be forgiven for blazing in anger.The trouble would be their telling on me. I like my privacy. I can talk about private me: Nobody else can!
And the other part of this “tacit bargain” is that I can’t tell the things I know about my kids, nor even about anything I may have done for them that is confidential–things done in trying to respond to their needs, not done as drama for prime time.
It seems so simple. We have this blog tool for talking tell-all at our fingertips. But we need some discretion. When I meet friends, I seldom tell all about my family. I talk too much about me, yes, but others’ secrets or private sides are inviolate, a sacred trust. Now there’s a sonorous phrase, we could dust it off and apply to taking care of family.
This of course is wildly prescriptive. I am not listening to the blogging community or recording their sense of where to draw the line. I don’t know if I can. I am madly impatient today and feeling in a save the world mood. We do know somethings. For example, it’s a fact for me that caring for others means not telling their stories. Silences and respect.
AHAh–we are curators of difficult knowledge in the home–a tantalizing theoretical thread to follow–curatorial practises and atrocities–MOMS as memory keepers! There is the already written bestseller, The Memory Keeper’s Daughter, which when I read it was just a title. I must remember how that worked, fictionally. Do you know it?
I do a lot of things that people would criticize if they were to know.
For example, sometimes when I’m mad I swear at my children. And in day to day life, I don’t often swear, so it’s weird and horror show like– like a demon gets hold of me. If I reveal this character flaw, I expect people might (even should) be critical. But if my children told this story, and others tsk- tsked, I think I could even be forgiven for blazing in anger.The trouble would be their telling on me. I like my privacy. I can talk about private me: Nobody else can!
And the other part of this “tacit bargain” is that I can’t tell the things I know about my kids, nor even about anything I may have done for them that is confidential–things done in trying to respond to their needs, not done as drama for prime time.
It seems so simple. We have this blog tool for talking tell-all at our fingertips. But we need some discretion. When I meet friends, I seldom tell all about my family. I talk too much about me, yes, but others’ secrets or private sides are inviolate, a sacred trust. Now there’s a sonorous phrase, we could dust it off and apply to taking care of family.
This of course is wildly prescriptive. I am not listening to the blogging community or recording their sense of where to draw the line. I don’t know if I can. I am madly impatient today and feeling in a save the world mood. We do know somethings. For example, it’s a fact for me that caring for others means not telling their stories. Silences and respect.
AHAh–we are curators of difficult knowledge in the home–a tantalizing theoretical thread to follow–curatorial practises and atrocities–MOMS as memory keepers! There is the already written bestseller, The Memory Keeper’s Daughter, which when I read it was just a title. I must remember how that worked, fictionally. Do you know it?
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