I don’t post many pictures of my kids on social media.
It isn’t because I don’t want others to know what my kids look like or I’m trying to protect their digital footprint.
I am in a unique position when it comes to social media – I have public accounts. Anyone can look at my Facebook page, Instagram page or Twitter page. We don’t necessarily have to be “friends.” I made those public because it’s a platform to showcase my work. I’m a writer.
And to be honest, an Instagram account with pictures of my kids would be boring to everyone but me. It’s the same concept as handing someone my kid’s scrapbook – anyone can look at it and enjoy it but I am the most proud of it. Social media only shows the good memories. Happy moments. Sometimes people forget that and families appear to be perfect.
I’m not perfect.
My family is not perfect. Happy – yes, most of the time, we are. Do I patiently wait for my family to run out of clean clothes before they realize I’m retired from picking up their clothes off the floor? Why yes, I do, because I’m a mean mom and evil wife.
I don’t post many pictures of my kids because I ask my kids’ permission to post pictures. Emma is eleven and Kate is eight. They both realize people they’ve never met will see the pictures. For the most part, Emma always gives me permission and Kate never does. I also never ask Kate because she rarely smiles for posed pictures. Her reason is because she “doesn’t like fake smiling” and no one needs to be in her damn business. Ok, she didn’t say damn but I know she’s thinking it.
I asked Kate to take a selfie with me at a neighborhood party this weekend.
I was shocked.
We took the photo.
Kate: That will be $20.
Kate: You heard me. I know you sold one of your books and you have a twenty dollar bill in your pocket.
Me: I’m not giving you twenty dollars to smile for a picture.
Kate: What if I let you put this picture on Instagram or Facebook?
This picture cost me $20.
And don’t forget to buy my book, “But Did You Die?”
Kate will take your money.