I have had a difficult week.
So has the Roo-girl.
Roo's week went from bad to worse over the course of seven days due to teen drama.
Mine went from irritated (over being the brunt of teen-drama fallout) to bottom-dropping-out-of-it-bad in a heartbeat.
The Roo-girl has discovered my blog.
Not only has she discovered it, but she has been reading it for (in her words) a couple years.
This is not entirely a bad thing. If you read me regularly, you know that while I occasionally despair and often poke fun, I love my kids with a ferociousness of a mama lion protecting her cubs.
In fact, in my initial horror at being discovered, I sent a panicked message to a level-headed person who set me straight:
"If you look at what you write about, it's pretty much love letters to your kids. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but the love is immense and very obvious."
I needed to hear that because Roo let me know about her discovery in the heat of battle over behavior, etiquette and respect.
At high volume.
I won't quote her directly, but she informed me in no uncertain terms that she knew about my blog and had been reading it -- and continued to read it because there were things that made her smile.
But what really and truly hurt her to the core is that she found out how her father died by reading my raw emotional account. The fact that I could tell the internet before I told her wounded and crushed her.
For that, I am sorrier than words can ever express.
And so I am at a crossroads.
Does she want me to stop blogging? She says no, because she knows it makes me happy.
Do I want to stop blogging? I say no, because I know it makes me happy. But I also say yes, because I made her unhappy.
Time will tell.
Crossposted at Mid-Century Modern Moms