My mum was a lifestyle journalist in the 90s, pre internet. She wrote two regular columns, and had regular slots in Country Living, the broadsheets, and even some Sunday Times travel writing. She even had a critique from Simon Calder.
However, she was not remotely a household name.
And we got recognised in public. Someone had a go at my sister and I on the bus because they recognised us and disagreed with her views. I fucking hated photographers, and I didn't even have a photographer at my wedding because of those experiences. We got recognised by visitors to our area from Australia because they were inspired to visit by her writing.
And I hated how she wrote about us - if you're familiar with Just William, it was like the Anthony Martin stories. She kept in all the twee stuff (way past the age it was cute) but neglected to mention the screaming rows she had with her older teens, or the fact that she used to trauma dump about her abusive first husband on the school run.
And this was the 90s! And she wasn't famous. The responsible amount to put your kids on the internet is zero as far as I'm concerned.