I was talking to the BFF the other day, and sometimes, she’ll say something, and I realize that we’re either related or we’re the same person, because I think “Jesus Christ, get out of my brain!” I think this falls under the reason we’re such good friends. Or because we cannot sugarcoat it when one of us says “you’re being an asshole.” Whatever, it’s true love.
She said to me the other day, “I swear to god, I can be doing great on time, even running early, and yet, I look up at the clock what seems like minutes later, as I’m getting the kids out the door, and a half an hour has elapsed and then I’m running late.” I thought this shit only happened to me, so I felt better that she couldn’t pull it together, either. Because that happens to me all the time. One minute I’m cocky, because I have plenty of time, so I relax and I turn around and I now have 10 minutes to get the kids buckled into their car seats, and to an appointment that’s probably at least a half an hour away. I think there are clock gnomes living in my house. I just hope they aren’t the kind that carry rabies and bite. Because there is NO WAY, I’ll get out the door on time to make it to my appointment to get rabies shots.
So yeah, I posted what felt like yesterday, but in reality it was really November 22nd and I turned around five minutes later and here we are, ten days before Christmas. But hey, I’m kicking Christmas ass. I celebrate the small accomplishments. Especially when I have the memory of a spastic monkey.
But there’s a good reason for that. And I know that you all really care.
Since I’ve had kids, hell, since before our kids were born, we were both very gun shy about sharing their lives. Would I love to show you pictures of my kids? Hell yes. My kids are cute, and I don’t know what mother doesn’t want to brag about their offspring. Do I want to tell you about the funny things they do? Hell yes. Little people, trying to act like adults is hysterical. But there’s one thing that stands in my way, and that is my motherly instinct.
And, it makes me feel sort of out of place on the internet. A space where “mommy blogging” and sharing our kids and their lives, has become so free flowing, and hip. And totally, seemingly OK. And I’m going to be hated for this, I’m sure, but my opinion on this is adamant. It’s wrong. You’re wrong.
I’ve tried to share snippets of their lives, but I’m very limited in what I feel comfortable sharing. So it’s limited to things like, making people aware about Autism, or the fact that my daughter has learned to blame her farts on everyone else.
My job is to make decisions for them. To protect them. Parading your child around online for everyone else’s amusement is not protecting them. They are people too. Small people that aren’t old enough to make the bigger decisions for themselves. They’re still learning about consequences. They deserve as much respect as you or me. I get it. They do cute things. But put yourself in their shoes. Put yourself in their shoes now. Would they be OK with you sharing their photos online? Would they be OK with you telling an embarrassing story? Now put yourself in their shoes five, maybe ten years down the road. When they’re in school, and their friends google them and read that embarrassing story, or look at that photo of them wearing your bra over their clothing, after having gotten into your makeup, how would you feel, knowing that they were getting major hell at school, or worse, bullied? All over something that could have easily been prevented? You say to yourself, now, “oh, they’d probably love to read about their lives, later on.” Is that to assauge your mind about your decision?
Don’t mistake this for me thinking I’m holier than thou. Believe me, I’ve been passed over for mother of the year award. I’m far from perfect. I won’t deny my judgement of parents who parade their kids around.
If my kids decide to share their lives online, when they’re old enough to do so, I’ll still be protective, while making them understand the consequences of “what goes online, stays online. Forever.” This isn’t Vegas.
I guess until then, I have no idea what the hell to say, because my life revolves around them, as it should.