My focus outward has been brewing for about six months or so, but it became more pressing about a month or so ago after I took Little Girl to a Mommy and me class. It was a class that my mother usually handles since it takes place on a day that I work. That week, however, my mom couldn’t sit for me. She’s been dealing with a very close friend’s serious health issues, so I was without a sitter.

Okay, so it’s not like it was my first trip to this Mommy and me. I had been there before, obviously, and knew some of the women on a, “Oh, hi, the kids got so big,” level. On that day, as always, I spent the class running around after Little Girl. She’s like a whirling dervish. Afterward, however, when we stopped into Panera for a pumpkin muffin top I had a chance to socialize with some of the moms. (Little Girl, seeing her “friends” loudly expressed an interest in sitting with them, and their mommies were kind enough to extend an invitation.)

The next three hours flew by. Little Girl sitting with the kids laughing and having a ball. Me sitting with the moms feeling relaxed and included. I have no trouble admitting that I really enjoyed myself. (I’ll digress a moment here and explain that, unlike my time with Big Girl, I haven’t really had a chance to do a lot of baby/mommy playdates, something I really, really regret and miss. Besides the fact that I have been feeling a little lonely lately. Okay, digression over.)

The women were really nice. The kids were really nice. It was a lovely time. Then, when the women asked if maybe I wanted to get together again, I felt really warm inside. I was actually looking forward to the next week knowing that my mom would be at a doctor visit with her friend.

That week flew by, and it was time for Mommy and me class before I knew it. I spent that class thoroughly enjoying my little girl and her exuberance and love, all the while looking forward to lunch. Afterward, I went back to Panera taking a place at the table with those same moms again. Then something happened. About five minutes into lunch one of the women told me that she Googled me. Something to the effect that my mom had bragged about me and my work so much that she had to look me up. And oh, she read this blog. The other people at the table nodded in unison. Seemed like they all read my blog, too.

Immediately, I felt like I was standing naked in front of them. Quite honestly, I wanted to cry. (And I did once I got into the car.) I smiled my way through the rest of the lunch, but I was pretty miserable the whole time. Especially when they started talking about some of my more personal posts. No, she didn’t just look at my impressive clips. (Yeah, I’ll own that — not too many people write for Time, Woman’s Day, Parents, The New York Times, and the Wall Street Journal, among other pubs). She looked at this blog, too and in effect took a peek into my soul since it is, for the most part, me. Warts, crazy and all, it’s me. My failings, my fears, my shortcomings. They all had a front row view into my brain.

Now some might say, hey, you put it out there. What do you expect? People read what you write. To that I say yes and no. When I started this blog more than 300-plus posts ago I never thought about new-to-my-life people reading it. I assumed friends, who already know me and like me enough to tolerate my foibles, would read it. I assumed editors would read it. (I hoped they would, actually, because I think it shows people what my unedited work looks like, and that I know how to tell a story.) I assumed other parents or people who don’t know me would read it and find comfort, inspiration, and knowledge in it. But no, I didn’t imagine that, for example, people from my beach club would read it. Or people from Mommy and me. People who I view as potential new friends.

The neighborhood thing, well, that’s my fault. I put it out there on my Facebook page. I truly didn’t think that anyone from around here would be interested in what I had to say. I have a very specific slant, and didn’t figure anyone would bother to click through. Stupid, shortsighted, and obtuse of me, I guess. The Mommy and me people? Well, I use a different last name in those circles. Problem is, I didn’t count on my mother bragging about me. My mother, who shares my maiden name. But whatever.

The problem is that people who don’t know me as a friend assume things from reading this blog. Hard to explain, but it’s almost like they look at me the way someone would look at another public figure. The intimacy is there without the hours of work and mutual sharing that a friendship usually goes through. Hence, the reason I often feel uncomfortable and uneasy when someone who is not my friend talks about something private I have written about. And again, yes, I know if I have written about something in a very public way in a very public forum, it’s not private. But in my mind it is. And now I am going in circles, aren’t I?

Back to the Mommy and me incident: That afternoon I sat in my car, called my husband, and bawled. It was ruined, I said. I couldn’t be friends with those women. It was too PERSONAL, I wailed. They seemed so nice, but how could I grow a friendship when they already had all the dirt on me? My ever-patient husband tried to calm me down telling me that it was okay, and that they obviously liked me even after reading the blog. Little Girl told me she loved me and that I shouldn’t cry. Still, I drove home brushing tears from my cheeks.

And that brings us to today. I’ve been thinking about this and thinking about this. I absolutely love this blog. I love disseminating information. I love the catharsis that comes from spilling my soul onto the page. I love getting emails saying that I helped someone feel better, or that I helped them on a greener (or saner) path. I don’t love knowing that people I meet think they know me after reading what is only a small part of who I am. And I hate it when good friends of mine — people I truly love and respect — apologize for bringing a plastic bag to our house, for instance, or reference something I’ve written about as absolute. In writing, there is absolute. Either you write it or you don’t. In life there are shades of gray, and I like that and live that way.

So what’s a girl to do? Well, I’ll be launching a new blog in a few weeks as well as giving this one an overhaul. This one will have more reviews, more news, more ways to make positive, healthy green changes. The name of the blog is changing slightly, too. It will become AsNaturalAsPossible.com, although this URL will remain up. In addition, another new, soon-to-be-launched blog will join it, capturing a year of my life in a way that’s more conducive to my social life. Yes, I will still be spilling who I am, but in a different way. (You’ll get it when you see it, I promise!) I’ll wait on announcing the URL until the site goes live, but it should bow soon. I can’t wait…

I was surprised, however, when I got around to looking not at traffic or hits but at the content that got people to linger on the site. The stuff that people found and decided was worth a deeper dig. The story choices didn’t surprise me. (I really like the stories that made people stick around.) However, the fact that the the two categories — top traffic posts and top time-on-site posts — do not intersect did give me pause. Yes, that’s right. The posts that inspired people to stick around the longest were not the ones on the top ten traffic list. And even more interesting: Only one in five of my top posts has anything to do with being natural. Go figure, right?

Curious about what your fellow readers like to read? Here’s my top three posts in terms of traffic as well as the two stories that got people to stay on my site, on average, more than 22 minutes.

A post entitled Sunburn on a Cloudy Day was my most popular direct link. Lots of people Googled, “Can I get sunburned on a cloudy day?” and found my blog. It’s definitely worth a read, even in the winter since yes, you can get a sunburn when it’s 20 degrees outside. And of course my Southern Hemisphere readers (hi, Australia contingent!) should be thinking about this as they enjoy their summer months.

The second most visited post was Spanking: This Will Hurt Me More Than It Hurts You. It’s a story I wrote after talking to a new mom who was spanking her three-year-old. I was upset about the encounter, and shared my own spanking experiences.

The post in the third spot goes to Cereal Killers: Kellogg’s Methylnaphthalene Problem. Another post that got lots of hits in natural search. People heard about the Kellogg’s recall, Googled it, and found their way to my site.

Okay, here’s where it gets interesting. The post that made people stick around the longest is called Love Isn’t Complicated. I wrote it after an especially tender moment with my husband when, for a millisecond, I saw myself through his eyes. There are a zillion reasons that I love him with all my heart and soul. This post is just an example of one of those reasons.

The post that kept people around the second-longest is The Definition of a Friend. I wrote it when I was feeling especially vulnerable about — what else? — a newish friend. Upon reflection, the blog post ended wrong. I was fooling myself. I am still hiding some of the time. My darling husband confirmed this tonight, saying that I still hold back a lot. That, because I am afraid to disappoint or have people see me for who I really am, I still keep things surface-y. (Surface-y is my word. He explained it in a much wordier and nicer-sounding way.)

Okay, so resolution time again. I resolve to remember Joel Goodson. I resolve to put myself out there more. Putting this in writing is a huge first step since I know at least some of my friends and a few acquaintances read this blog. I promise to try and be less surface-y.

List aside, what was your favorite blog post this year? It doesn’t have to be my blog. Feel free to post your favorite overall blog post here. I love finding new people to read and follow. Just no spam, please.

Here’s the thing, as someone with a lot of ties — my kid’s Girl Scouts, preschools (three of them, I might add), private school, and public school as well as my own Mothers’ Center, two Gymboree stints, college, grad school, work environments, writers’ groups, and a high school class — the chance that I am actually blogging about someone who’s not in my immediate family is pretty slim. I only blog about people and things that are actually having an impact on my life. Right now, that’s my kids, my husband, work (occasionally), the environment, the government.

Yes, I have blogged about nameless, faceless neighborhood women who dress very well, but I was not blogging about them. I was blogging about my own insecurities brought on by my own preconceived ideas. Yes, I’ve talked about kids at school who have said this or that, but to punctuate a point — never to hurt someone, and hopefully never in a way that is personally identifiable.

So, to all of those people who wonder if I am blogging about them I say this: Relax, I’m not. Really, I’m not. And I won’t blog about the conversation we’re having, the stuff you’ve got in your grocery cart, or the story that you tell over coffee. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but with everything else I have going on, most people aren’t going to become blog fodder. There’s just too many other things to write about — the environment, vaccines, plastic, what to do with left-over boxes of vegetables from my CSA. (Although friends who whip other friends with Twizzlers are fair game!) Even if I think someone is really nice and I enjoy their company, they’re probably not on my radar when I sit down to type. Heck, even really good friends don’t make my blog most of the time. The reason: A long time ago when I used to write for Marie Claire and Redbook my husband put a policy in place: Thou shalt not write about our friends.

Besides, unless someone is hanging out with Jamie Oliver or volunteering with Greenpeace, simply put (and to quote Elaine from Seinfeld) they probably aren’t blogworthy.

Bloggers, how do you deal with people asking you if you’re blogging about you? Do you blog about people you know? Non-bloggers: How would you feel if someone blogged about you? Would you ask them to stop?

Fellow freelance writer and editor Michelle Rafter created the WordCount Blogathon three years ago as a way to motivate herself to blog more. That year she got about two dozen writers to join her. Last year, the blogathon was even more successful. About 45 freelance writers joined the event and committed to blogging every day for a month.

This year there are about 110 freelance writers who will blog every day between May 1 and May 31. You can check out the other participants — many of whom are friends of mine — at the official Blogathon site. There truly is something for everyone. Blogs about personal finance, parenting, food, travel, blogging, marketing, gardening, business — it’s all there. The writers hail from all over the world. I spent some time on many of the sites and had to pull myself away since I have a huge assignment due tomorrow and needed to get writing (and stop reading)!

Oh, and you can keep up with what everyone is doing by following the #Blog2010 hashtag search on Twitter. I just took a look and there are a TON of people posting about their latest blogs and the blogathon.

Hope you’re having a good weekend. I’ve had a migraine since yesterday afternoon. Got a massage today. I’m hoping it will help loosen things up. Massage therapist said my muscle groups were all stuck together. Too much work, I think, and not enough yoga! I hope to change that. In addition to blogging daily this month I’m making a commitment to practice yoga daily whether it’s alone here or in a studio. Wonder which — yoga or blogging — will do more for my life?

“Wow – this is truly the silliest thing I have read. What a narcissist you are! You were traveling with your CHILDREN!!! Has anyone ever told you that you (as a mom) are setting an example for them? That you will make your childish, irrational fears their childish irrational fears should they have the misfortune to witness them? I feel bad for both your husband who must suffer with you and your children who must suffer because of you. Give your family a break and stop being the center of your own little universe. The best part is all this AFTER you blamed your mother for own your fear of flying. Really? Do you have any mirrors in your house? Do you like what you see? Oh, wait – you must. You’re a narcissist. I suspect I know what that “disability card” is all about….”

Hmmm. Okay, you have a right to your opinion. I have a right to respond. ‘Cause, hey, it’s my blog! First off, you got it wrong. I never blamed my mother for creating my fear of flying. You need to read more carefully. I was explaining where it came from.

Second: ABSOLUTELY I feel terrible about crying in front of my kids. I hate myself when I can’t control what’s happening in my head. Do you think I would choose to act like this? I have a mental disability called a phobia. It’s real, and I am not proud of the way I act because of it or that I am so weak that I can’t over come it. And trust me, I have tried.

Finally: What I didn’t write in the post you responded to was how I talked to Big Girl while we were on the flight and when we got off about why I was upset. I actually explained how, as we experience things, our brains create synapses — like roads — and when our bodies experience that same thing it goes on automatic pilot, so to speak. I had a bad experience as a child and now my brain takes me back there over and over again. And yes, I told her how I act isn’t right or normal. That Mommy is sick. She has something wrong with her head. But that I fly anyway so someday so she can enjoy herself. Besides, the more I do it, the more chance I have of maybe overcoming my fear. And I told her about the doctors I’ve spoken to and the classes I’ve taken. And everything I do and have done to try and overcome it. Finally, I told her how proud I was of her that she enjoys flying. And how it’s a relatively safe mode of transportation. And she got it. She did. And she was smiling and kissing me and telling me how she thought being a pilot was cool.

So before you go all Simon Cowell on me, maybe you should get the facts.

Love, –KB

It’s so hard having a pulpit that can’t really be personalized. As a writer, I take a stance on something, and have to stand behind it. I can’t temper what I write for each person who reads it. Take my post on babies and toddlers and television viewing. Do I think babies should be watching TV? No, but I also don’t think that moms who do let their kids watch an episode or two of Sesame Street — or in this case Handy Manny — are bad moms. In fact, this mom and the others at the playdate are pretty wonderful. The one mom who posed the question is so devoted and so attentive. She is what I would classify as a Great Mom (notice the capital letters!). Still, as someone who has seen the research, and talked to the experts, I should be telling her what I know, right?

I’m not so sure. Research is great. It helps cure diseases, and helps us avoid harmful situations. However, the research subjects are human. They are exposed to thousands if not tens of thousands of other variables. So sure, television might cause children to have difficulty sleeping, and contribute to obesity, but maybe it has a different affect for a child who spends plenty of time running around, playing with other kids, and having his mom and dad read to him than the kid who doesn’t move from the set all day. Maybe the researchers are right, but only for specific types of kids. Maybe kids who watch a lot of TV are also eating poor food choices, and not getting any other exercise. Or maybe the kids who — like my friend’s son — only watch TV in the morning won’t have the same outcome as kids who spend hours and hours in front of the tube from morning until night. I don’t know. I do know that no parent should ever feel judged or bad about the choices they make for their kids as long as they are doing the absolute best that they can do. For me, that means no television until after the age of two. For my friends, it means an hour or so of television every day so they can get through the day. There is no right or wrong answer. There truly are shades of gray when it comes to this parenting thing.

Are you a blogger? How do you deal with keeping your blogging life and your personal life separate? Are you a reader? Have you ever felt uncomfortable or judged after reading someone’s blog?

Blogging is a lot like being on a merry-go-round: It's fun, but you feel a litle dizzy sometimes.

This is my 42nd blog post. (I had planned on writing about this topic as my 40th post, but I misread the WordPress dashboard. Sigh.) Those who have followed my musings from the beginning have read about my klutzy mistakes, my abusive ex, my friend issues. I’ve shared stories about my urinary incontinence, how I feel about playdates, and how I feel about the environment. With these disclosures, I’ve joined the ranks of fellow bloggers who talk about dealing with their own cancer, their mother’s cancer, their failed marriages, their use of sex toys. In retrospect, I can’t think of a single topic that hasn’t been covered in the blogosphere. We bloggers seem to have little or no filter when it comes to normally off-topic topics.

You, as a reader, may enjoy the voyeurism, but it’s a little weird for us on the writing end. It’s very strange, as a writer, to put these types of things out there. Things that most people reserve for close friends. At least it is for me. Sure, I’ve written a story for Redbook about growing up with a mother who yelled. A story I wrote for Parents — in excruciating detail, I might add — about my miscarriage was one of the most commented stories I’ve ever had the privilege to work on. But only a handful of the people in my real life ever cracked open those magazines. I could hide behind the relative anonymity of the newsstand.

On the flip side, as a blogger, it’s also weird knowing that my friends, family, and acquaintances are right here reading every word. Words that I might not say out loud to people I care about. And while I love that they are reading my stuff — please, please keep reading, everyone — it often has an impact on the way we interact offline.

Take my husband. Last night he commented that he loved my blog, but he thought I wrote a lot like a single mother. “There’s not a lot in there about me,” he complained. Another example: On Sunday night I had dinner with two girlfriends. Amy was in my Friday Favorites about friends; Lori, who is one of my oldest and dearest of friends, was not. She joked around about it, but I think inside the jokes was a little bit of truth. It hurt her feelings that she was omitted.

Other friends have reacted to blog posts, too. On Monday I had a playdate. Precisely ten minutes before Keira’s naptime everyone picked up and rushed out of here. They had all read my post about Playdate Dos and Don’ts, I’m convinced, and they didn’t want to hang around past what they thought was my limit. They didn’t want to be pegged “unsupportive.” That’s not the first time I felt uncomfortable because of my playdate post. A few weeks ago we were having a playdate with a new friend. While the girls were standing next to each other her daughter tapped my daughter’s chest ever so lightly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. And yet the woman picked up her child like she had stabbed Keira with a Mr. Potato Head arm, hustling her onto a time-out before I could say a word. I actually felt ashamed. Here, this nice woman was afraid of offending me because of something I had written.

Of course, there’s nothing I can do about how people react to what I write. I can’t edit or censor myself. One of the cardinal rules of blogging is that you have to put your heart and soul on the screen or your readers are going to smell fakery and fear and leave. But not before they flame you for your insincerity. So I guess I’m going to keep putting it all out there. And my friends? I hope they will understand that, as my friends, they shouldn’t take my blog so literally. Still, just in case: Have I mentioned how much I love my husband, Chris and my friend Lori?!?

Do you blog? If so, what’s been the most difficult part for you? As a blog reader, how do you feel about reading such personal commentary? Does it ever change the way you feel about what goes on in your own life? Please share your thoughts below.