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Cultivating privacy

June 13, 2011 by Beth Shepherd

backyard privacyWhen I first moved into our house, pre-addition, the back deck jutted out mere feet from the rental house next door. To say that their house was something of a “party house,” at the time, would be an enormous understatement. I stopped counting how many times Big Papa knocked on their door, bleary-eyed late at night (or in the wee hours of the morning). Part way through the summer, they pulled an old ratty couch out into the yard, where it stayed for the remainder of the summer and well into a rainy fall.

Then there were the neighbors who lived kitty corner and whose back porch we had a clear view of from our deck. First there was the morning when the fire department was called to douse the burning mattress they’d tossed into the yard. On another afternoon they smashed a bunch of chairs in their backyard yard before starting a bonfire and throwing them in.

So it goes without saying that the notion of a quiet, relaxing, and private dinner on our back deck, was unattainable much of the time, particularly when warm days were ours. One of our goals for our remodel was to bump out the corner of the house that cozies up to the neighbors, and build the new deck on the other side of the house. That way we couldn’t see them, or they us, if we chose to dine al fresco. Of course, there were many other reasons we needed to add 150 square feet to our tiny 980 square foot house, namely to make room for a child, but creating a bit more privacy was pretty high on our list.

It’s one thing to put up a fence around your house, close your blinds, slap on the head phones and crank up the volume on your iPod, all in an effort to achieve privacy at home. It’s quite another to cultivate virtual privacy.

As a blogger I’ve put a lot of my life out on the internet: stories, photos, and milestones, particularly as they relate to our adoption journey. Up to now, no one would likely refer to me as a private person. I tend to be more of an open book than a closed door when it comes to sharing the goings on in my life, be it with close friends or the woman behind the counter at the dry cleaners.

Recently, I’ve been reconsidering the level of detail I want to share publicly, and online. The big question I’ve been wrestling with is this: How do I blog about our adoption while keeping some measure of privacy around things that now seem too sensitive to be public?

This doesn’t mean all adoption talk is off the table for me. There will be blog posts about my thoughts on adoptive parenthood and adoption in a more general sense, just less about exactly where things are at for us. I’ll still write about the specifics, but for now it will be saved in a folder labeled “memoir” rather than published in a blog post. Of course, I’ll continue to write publicly about our travels, cooking and gardening.

We need a breather from airing our laundry. And truth be told, it feels good to allow a bit more personal space where we might collect our thoughts and ourselves—and cultivate privacy in our own backyard.

Filed Under: Adoption, Garden Tagged With: blogging, neighbors, privacy

What the wind blew in

October 13, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Author’s note: Pampers and Pakhlava first posted on April 13, 2009…six months ago today!

I started this blog because I figured that when all was said and done I’d have a recording of what happened, how it happened and when it happened to share with our child. Along the way, I thought I might explore what felt like to become a mom at 50. And, since my blog appears in a women’s travel website, I knew I’d be able to showcase photos and travel experiences that feature a country few people adopt from, travel to or even know much about.

What the wind blew in

Writing about adoption in a travel website was daunting. Nearly three decades had passed since I’d been overseas. In my dreams, I’m traveling the world, but in the light of day I could rarely afford to get much farther than my own back yard. I imagined most of the Wanderlust and Lipstick readers were, well, wanderers. Whether they traveled solo, with kids, or to exotic locales they were all likely headed somewhere farther than the living room sofa.

When I began blogging, I didn’t have a clue if anyone other than family and close friends would crack my blog open. Even if my readership was comprised of just those near and dear, telling tales of my inner-most angst left me with a feeling of prickly anxiousness.  What would it be like to publicly divulge the roller coaster chain of events and Pandora’s Box of emotions that go hand-in-hand with adoption? Not to mention my own insecurities about tackling motherhood at midlife.

Faced with a veritable hip-deep list of what-if-I-do, I reminded myself of the high cost to what-if-I-don’t. Since I was a little girl, in my head I’ve concocted books for children, memoirs and assorted homage to family members and significant friends. I’ve oft promised myself that tomorrow, no next week I’ll put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and anchor these stories.

Here I was, looking square in the face, at an opportunity to do what I’ve longed to do. Plus there would be deadlines. Beth asked for at least two posts a week. Since I’m the kind of gal who tries to fulfill my obligations, it seemed like a good motivator to get my fingers moving and keep them doing so on a consistent basis.

I took a deep breath and jumped in. I’ve never been much of a journal writer, though I wish I was. I haven’t been published (yet) in a magazine. I have done my fair share of scholarly writing (read: term papers and two masters theses) and I did spend twenty years in the field of training and development where I wrote and edited training manuals and developed classes. Writing about me, however, is a brand new gig.

The sheer act of writing is meditative for me, like cooking which I also adore. First I imagine the recipe. Next I gather the ingredients. Then I set about the business of putting it all together. My brain enjoys writing.  Putting form to my ideas feels like finding the puzzle piece with the teardrop shape that fits in the upper right hand corner just so.

Blogging also creates an opportunity to insert photographs into my posts. I’ve been passionate about photography since childhood, when I saw the magic in my father’s darkroom. I snapped my first shot with a Kodak Brownie and haven’t stopped taking pictures since.

Six months into this venture, I’m smitten with writing. I lose myself in it. I craft posts in the shower and in my spinning classes at the gym. I hear a song, read an article or the air smells a certain way and my mind starts churning. There is a thread between my heart and my head where words and images percolate. Out topples a tale. Of late, I find it hard to imagine not writing.

The blog has helped me work through the sturm und drang of our adoption journey. Before, some issue would get stuck in my craw and fester into a big raw psychic wound.  Now I write about it and set it free. Sometimes it sets me free too.

Even though I post what I write on a website, writing is a solitary pursuit. That people read my blog, and tell me it resonates with them, is a source of tremendous joy. I didn’t imagine complete strangers might “find” me, follow my blog or send notes sharing their experiences. I’ve been deeply touched by the support I’ve received after writing emotionally difficult posts and it’s exhilarating, in the short time I’ve been writing, to be mentioned in magazines like Adoptive Families.

I started this blog because I figured that when all was said and done I’d have a recording of what happened, how it happened and when it happened to share with our child. What the wind blew in turned out to be another story altogether.

Filed Under: Adoption, Family Tagged With: Adoptive Families Magazine, Beth Whitman, blogging, Kodak Brownie, readers, Wanderlust and Lipstick, writing

Some might fend off a mid-life crisis by leaving the comforts of their corporate salary to jet off to a deserted island. Others might buy a Jaguar. I’ve chosen to dive head-long into my 50s and beyond by becoming a first-time parent. At any given moment you might find me holding a camera, a spade, a spatula or a suitcase. Or my little girl's hand. Adopted from Armenia, she puts the Pampers and Paklava into my life.

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