• Melissa Petro writes stories about her children, balancing the risks and benefits of public exposure.
• Despite past media scrutiny, she believes openness combats societal issues and personal struggles.
• She argues that storytelling's financial and emotional rewards outweigh potential privacy concerns.

Recently, when speaking on a panel about the responsibilities of caretaking and the work of building a creative career, I admitted what felt like a cardinal sin: I've written about my kids, and I'll probably keep doing it.

While the rest of the parent-writers on the panel solemnly shook their heads, I freely admitted that my kids are frequently talked about by name in my work. "My children don't get any more — or less — consideration than any other people in my life who might make their way into my writing. I weigh the risks, and if a story needs to be told, I tell it as responsibly as I can."

What I also do, which many people may not agree with, is post photos of my children on my social media and in my articles as a freelance writer. I see no harm in it.

At the beginning of my career, I decided to be entirely open about my life — including my life as a mother

I'm well aware of the pros and cons of oversharing online. 10 years before becoming a parent, I was the victim of mass media humiliation, an experience that might've made some people more private. Public shame and speculation had the opposite effect on me: I learned our secrets keep us sick, individually and as a society.

After the scandal and before motherhood, I wrote about nearly every aspect of my life — from my sex work past, mental health struggles and overcoming addiction, to professional achievements and how I deal with my success.

When parenting very young children through a pandemic bowled me over, I wrote about that, too. I've written extensively about what I've learned mothering a child with special needs, including the period I was compelled to homeschool.

Whereas some parents may feel skittish about sharing details that would expose them to scrutiny, I make it no secret that my now-seven-year-old son has a cellphone or that my children spend copious amounts of time on screens. My kids are the main characters in the latter chapters of my memoir, too, and my daughter is frequently highlighted in social media posts promoting that book, which I dedicated to her.

Parents are free to keep their private lives private — just don't shame parents who don't

While it's not unusual to hear parents say they never post photos of their children online, the conversation can get ugly when it concerns parents who share. It's common to hear that parents who post about their kids online are putting their children's privacy and personal data at risk.

I know parents who would never post their children's faces or any identifying information, like their kid's full name, gender, or date of birth, or disclose any information that might reveal their child's location, such as the name of their child's school.

That's their choice, and they're free to make it.

For me, the rewards outweigh the risks

I'm not a doctor or novelist — I'm a personal essayist. I've made a career from telling intimate stories about my life. My family's stories are my stories, and my stories pay my bills.

Some might argue that I could hold back on details, but my creative process is such that anything could become content, and details make a narrative come alive.

I respect when my editors request photos to illustrate my stories because images give a story context. In today's media landscape, all this additional labor is an expected aspect of publishing.

I can't afford to worry how a story about my toddler's toilet troubles might dissuade a recruiter from offering them a job in 20 years. I pitch these stories because editors buy them, and they buy them because readers are interested in real-life stories about everyday challenges.

When it comes to actual risks, I'm skeptical

The financial and professional benefits of sharing online are enormous. The idea that "oversharing" makes a child vulnerable to harm reminds me of when we all worried about razor blades in Halloween candy and panicked when we saw an unmarked white van.

Instances of stalking, bullying, and harassment as a result of information a stranger acquired solely on the internet are rare. When a crime occurs— when an image is altered or misused by a malicious actor — there's a tinge of victim-blaming (or mom-blaming).

More typically, our stories are twisted out of context, and a person's reputation is damaged by other people's misconceptions and ignorance. Take, for example, when another news outlet retold the story of my family's fight to obtain a free and appropriate education for my then-kindergartener and misinterpreted the essay's intent.

Essays that rile up trolls and result in tabloid ridicule are oftentimes the same pieces that earn a writer countless calls and emails from readers desperate for advice and thankful that we shared our story.

"You'll feel differently when your kids are older," other writers sometimes say — and maybe they're right. But I don't think so.

At ages 5 and 7, my kids are still too young to fully understand privacy and consent. For now, they enjoy that mommy's a writer and are delighted to be included in my public life.

They look for my book's cover every time we enter a bookstore, and they love seeing their photos online so much that they'll ask me to make videos or take pictures and have a hand in the editing process, such as choosing a filter or adding a song.

I might behave differently if that wasn't the case, but I'm unsure. I teach my children the one thing I know to be true: our stories matter, and we all have the right to share them. It's a lesson that seems to be sticking: my daughter tells me she wants to be a writer when she grows up.

• In 2022, Melissa Petro's family skipped holiday stress for a meaningful trip to Sri Lanka instead.
• The trip was a celebration after she sold a book proposal and they met up with family members there.
• Staying in an Airbnb with hired help enhanced her experience and allowed for true relaxation.

From Elf on the Shelf to cookie swaps, matching pajama sets, ugly sweater office parties, and countless other traditions, the holidays can be the most wonderful — and exhausting — time of the year.

After I sold a book proposal in November 2022, I had no interest in putting up a tree or wasting money on toys my kids didn't need while battling a seemingly endless parade of wintertime illnesses.

Instead, I wanted to celebrate the win and spend meaningful time with my family before having to focus on writing. My husband and I decided to skip the seasonal stress of gifting and spend the money instead on a trip of our lifetime.

We chose a location that was special to us

My husband is part Sri Lankan, and his brother owns a hotel on the island's southernmost tip. Planning an epic trip to Unawatuna, Sri Lanka, made a lot of sense. Because a flight to Sri Lanka from New York takes around 19 hours, we wanted to go for a significant amount of time. All four of our flights cost around $4,000 in total.

Whenever we travel, I prepare my kids by looking at pictures and discussing what we'll see and do. At three and five years old, they were too young to notice that we were skipping most kids' favorite holiday.

Getting there was part of the adventure

Taking a monthlong midwinter trip will probably require that you pull your kid out of school. Molly was still in day care, and Oscar's kindergarten attendance is always good, so missing two weeks of classes wasn't a problem. At this time both kids were too young to be seriously invested in participating in the typical end-of-season pageants and fairs.

For the flight, I packed a bag of snacks and another bag of activities like coloring, puzzle books, and playdough — anything that'll strike them as novel when boredom hits. I space out meals, movies, and activities.

We were unsure how our children would manage a long-haul flight, so we opted for an overnight layover in Abu Dhabi. It was the middle of the night when we arrived in the Middle East, but due to the time difference and having slept on the plane, everyone was wide awake.

The hotel we booked had a 24-hour waterpark, so we went for a moonlit swim. The next morning, everyone slept in, and we had enough time to shop at a nearby mall before the next six-hour flight.

I thought having hired help would feel weird, but it was wonderful

We had the option to stay with family in a more remote area but chose to rent a two-bedroom Airbnb instead. We wanted to be closer to the beach and have space versus spending the entire trip with relatives. A monthlong stay cost just $1,650 — less than it would've cost to stay in a typical hotel. The property exceeded my expectations.

The house was traditional, with whitewashed cement walls, a thatched roof of woven palm fronds, and polished cement floors. It was surrounded by a walled-in garden with mango trees, coconut palms, colorful flowers, and cement urns holding rainwater occupied by tiny fish.

The property had a private butler who cleaned daily and cared for the garden. Breakfast every morning was included, and he cooked traditional Sri Lankan dinner whenever requested for an extra fee.

I worried that having an unfamiliar adult in our intimate space might feel awkward, but it didn't. He did our laundry by hand, and I appreciated that the house was clean when we returned from a day out. He was sensitive to our privacy and extremely patient with the children — and having his help meant that I actually got a vacation.

Instead of forced traditions, we enjoyed much-needed family time

We spent the last weeks of the year together on the beach instead of visiting Santa and last-minute shopping. We swam in the ocean, made sandcastles, and ate authentic seafood curries poolside at various local resorts. We visited a local street dog rescue and a sea turtle sanctuary.

The temperature in Unawatuna in December is between 75 and 86 degrees, so there's no hope for snow — and no disappointment when it doesn't happen. There's no driving through inclement weather, no seasonal spirit days at your kid's day care, and no Secret Santa gifts to buy or toss.

There were occasional reminders of the holiday — twinkle lights on a palm tree or a Christmas carol playing in the background, mostly for tourists' sake — but there isn't the gross display of consumerism that's ubiquitous in the West.

Santa didn't skip my kids entirely

My husband and I felt a little guilty skipping Christmas entirely, so on Christmas Eve, we cut down a branch from the rubber tree out back and ran to the dollar store to buy a few ornaments and some inexpensive trinkets for them to open in the morning.

Considering many families spend thousands of dollars each year on decorations, gifts, meals, and other holiday-related expenses, and then another couple thousand for an annual vacation, rolling it all into one expense made sense for us.

With a minuscule percentage of my typical effort, the kids were just as pleased. As they played with their new toys in the garden, they marveled at how Santa found us all the way in Sri Lanka.