A brief note: a year and a half ago, I announced that I was going to change the names of my kids on my blog, in order to protect their privacy. They might not want their poop stories showing up on Google, I imagined.
But I have found this increasingly unsustainable. Whenever I perform, I call them by their real names, because I would just not be able to call them their fake names consistently. And when my book comes out next spring, I’m calling them by their real names, because that’s how I wrote it and it seems silly to change it all now. In that case, changing their names on the blog no longer seems worthwhile.
If I really wanted to protect their privacy, I guess I wouldn’t be writing about them at all.
I’m telling myself that there will be no shred of privacy left by the time they grow up anyhow, and I think I’m right, based on Maureen Orth’s story in Vanity Fair this month about how the Craigslist killer was caught. (Read it for a most sobering look at how little privacy any of us have online.)
From now on, I’ll be calling my kids by their real names, which are like two letters different than their fake names, so it will be easy to keep up. Sorry for the flip flop.