Transparent isn't the same as Authentic: Choosing What to Share withSocial Media

There seems to be a misconception out there that who we are on our social media has to be a true representation of who we are in real life.  People complain it is not fair to keep some things private or to present an "ideal" or "best" version of our identities, families, partners, and children.  The general accusation is that by only presenting our "best" selves we are actively working to undermine others' opinions of their own lives and are making them feel bad about themselves.  I couldn't disagree more.  Here's why: other people's lives, their struggles, their embarrassments have nothing to do with you.  Likewise, their successes, their strengths, and their joys have nothing to do with you, either.  If you are basing your self worth or are judging your life as inferior because of someone else's facebook profile, than you are using the wrong basis for comparison.  The only kids your kids should be compared to are the best versions you know they can be of themselves.  The only partner your partner should ever be compared to is the best version of himself/herself.  The only basis of comparison you should have for yourself is the "you" that you want to be.

While I try to be pretty open about the struggles I face as a woman, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a writer, and a mom on this blog and on my personal facebook page, I am also very careful about what I talk about or portray about my children, husband, and family because their struggles are their own.  I try very carefully to only say things that I would say in front of them, if not now than in years to come.  Who knows how long my digital trail will last and it is my utmost desire to make sure that what my sons read when they are older about themselves through my eyes are all things that I would want them to know and hear.  Do we have tough moments?  Sure.  Do I have mean mom moments when I think ungenerous things about those I love? Absolutely.  Do I struggle with how much of my struggle to reveal?  You bet. I will never claim to be an absolutely open book when it comes to those I love or even myself on social media.  I will always present them in the same positive light that I want them to see themselves in.  I feel my words are powerful and I would never want a misplaced word to cause my sons or my husband or any one else I love to judge themselves harshly or to feel judged through my eyes.

I feel strongly that while our social media should probably be a representation of our "authentic" selves, it does not need to be a representation of every facet of us or every whim and emotion we experience and we certainly don't need to share every unflattering thing we know about our children or our partners!  Our "authentic" selves are the selves that are realistic, multi-dimensional and represent what we overall are like.  If we over share every mistake we make, we are not sharing our "authentic" selves because we are sharing mistakes that don't really define us or shouldn't really define us in our own minds or in the minds of others.  If we over share every success, we are not sharing our "authentic" selves because we are also only showing a small part of who we are.  I am perfectly comfortable meeting people where they want me to meet them.  I'd much rather know about people's accomplishments and joys so that I may celebrate with them and know only about the struggles they feel comfortable sharing with me than to have everyone know everything in a public space like social media.  If I wouldn't feel comfortable announcing something to the local paper or announcing it in the front yard, I probable wouldn't offer it up to social media because it is the virtual version of the same thing.  Just because giving everyone access to everything is one click away now does not mean that we have to share everything with everyone.  My facebook page represents an authentic version of me, but only my close friends and family know the complete "real" me warts and all.  I only share all of my struggles with those who love all of me. That's my policy.

What do you say?
Shawna

Nursing My 3-Year Old

If there is one thing that parenthood has taught me, its to take all my expectations and throw them out the window! Another, everyone has an opinion about how you're doing it wrong. Both of those are certainly true in regards to Gwen's and my nursing relationship as well.

I never thought I would be here, almost a month past celebrating my daughter's 3rd birthday, still nursing twice a day. I'm surprised, delighted, a little nursed-out, but still with the warmest of feelings towards this amazing journey that we've taken together.

I'm also finding myself slightly more wary to talk about this beautiful thing we share. That makes me sad. Something that is so normal, something with so many benefits (to mama and baby), should be celebrated, not stigmatized. Yet because my baby is 3, and not a baby anymore, I get judgement from many. "She's too old, you're stunting her independence."  "Its not nutritional anymore!"  "Its clearly only for you at this stage, let her grow up."

Thankfully, for every naysayer I've encountered, I've also found a supporter. Expected sources, like my family, who know that there is still some good nutrients in breastmilk, despite Gwen's age. Like my husband, who expressed how he hopes I'm still planning to let her self wean, since she gets so much comfort and joy from her nursing sessions. Like the doctor who said that nursing while I had a minor illness was a great way to pass on some antibodies to keep Gwen from getting it as well. Some expected sources as well, like the mother of one of Gwen's former classmates, who asked if we were still nursing, and told me what an awesome thing it was!

My 3-year old is a healthy, happy, thriving, very independent and spirited girl. We have an amazing bond, which is strengthened by this special thing we share. I'm making less milk now, and I know our days are numbered, but I'm going to try and enjoy every one that we have left. And I invite anyone to keep their mind open, and there judgement to themselves!



Just a note to say that I am a big supporter of breastfeeding, but also a big supporter of doing what is best for your individual family. If you were unable to or chose not to breastfeed, or chose to wean at an earlier age, please don't take the above as an indictment. I only ask that you extend the same non-judgement to me, as I do to you.



For more information about ages of weaning, what primate physiology tells us about weaning, and other breastfeeding statistics, check out these resources:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/16/time-breast-feeding-weaning-primates_n_1521831.html
http://kellymom.com/fun/trivia/bf-numbers/
http://www.childinfo.org/breastfeeding_countrydata.php
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breastfeeding

Liking vs. Loving my Spirited Child

I had another post in the works for today, but I'm putting it aside for later. Instead I have something I have to get out, something I have to confess, so it can stop weighing on me. I'm going to be so honest here, and I'm a little afraid of it. It's hard to admit your own shortcomings, and maybe even harder to admit ugly feelings because they seem to speak even more to who you are inside.

I remember that Gwen seemed to hit certain emotional developmental milestones early. Around 20 months, and definitely by 22, I stared getting a preview of the fun that was the "terrible twos." The threes, I've said it before, have been described to me as "two, with intent." She hit that early too. So while she's only been 3 for a bit over a week, this attitude has been here for a bit, and I'm over it already.

Guys, I'm just going to say it. I love Gwen, with all my heart, she fills me with love and a simple hug from her is a balm to me... but frankly, there are times lately that I don't like her. When she completely ignores my requests. The time she told me to shut up. When she whines, constantly. When she throws a fit because I ask her to do something so unreasonable like clean up toys that she's strewn around the living room when she's done playing with them, or take a single bite of something that she begged me to make her to eat.

I am loathe to ever wish time with her away, but I find myself wishing for bedtime, wishing for 4!

Now there are great parts to this age as well, and I am so grateful for those. However, she just seems so much better at pushing my buttons now, no matter how many loving boundaries I give her, and this has brought out a side of me that I don't like. My carefully cultivated patience has gone out the window, and I suddenly feel like a newly unfrozen Austin Powers ("I can't seem to CONTROL the sound of my VOISE!").

So here's where I ask for your help gentle readers: What's your secret for hitting the reset button? Yoga helps me, but since I can only go once a week, I need something to help me get my mama mojo back the other 6 days of the week. I don't chose my daughter's actions, but I can change and chose my reactions.

Help me reset our off balance relationship, so I can like my daughter as much as I love her again... and survive this crazy age.


Editor's Note: I wrote this yesterday, while sitting in the car with a napping Gwen. We'd had a morning full of butting heads. We went on to have a wonderful afternoon together. Thank goodness. Then we butted heads at bedtime. ::sigh::  We went on to end the night nicely, but this is how our days have been going.

real mom confessions

My good friend and momspiration, Elise, recently did a post on her True Confessions. They were great. So honest, and so damn spot on! So, here are my real mom confessions:

Source

1. I consider it a parenting success that my daughter loves Edward Sharpe and the Magnificent Zeros, and calls Home "her song." Similarly, I was a little annoyed when she loved a CD of kitschy children's songs we were gifted (don't worry, I didn't share my annoyance with her!).

2. I do my best to get Gwen to eat a good variety of foods... but nights are rushed to begin with, so if she's begging for pasta, again, sometimes its just easier to eat pasta. Again. But we always have a fruit or veggie too.

3. I love spending time with my daughter, love playing games with her, but when she breaks out the blocks, I pray she asks her dad to help instead of me. I can only "build another house, Mommy" so many times before I just don't want to build another house! I've also hidden books once or twice after we read them 20 times in a row.

4. My husband is much better at the crafting stuff then me too. I'm a little terrified of the mess it would create if we pulled out paint together. 

5. Being married after having a baby(s) is hard. I love my husband, but parenting together is the hardest thing we've ever done.

6. I save way too many of those scribbley pictures that she brings home from daycare.

7. If its a choice between cleaning the house or playing with my girl, I will always chose the later. Yes, my house is messy.

8. I hate hearing that she gave my husband a hard time on a night that I'm out (for work or yoga), but part of me loves hearing how much she missed me. She gets bigger every day, its nice to be needed. And yes, I need those nights to do "me things" too. I don't feel guilty about that.

9. That whiny voice makes me want to pull my hair out.

10. I hope that we can be as close as we are now when she is 16 and beyond. I will always be the mom first, but that doesn't mean I can't want to be a confidant, an enjoyed companion, and yes, a friend, as well.


What are your mom confessions?

fears

Everyone has things in life that they fear. As parents, some of those naturally involve your child(ren). When Gwen was born, I was struck with the incredible realization that I was in charge of this little life. That her thriving or failing, rested on my shoulders. The responsibility was heady and terrifying.

It still is. I worry about feeding her the right things, getting her outside enough, keeping her strong and healthy. I worry about sickness or accident taking one of us from the other. More so though, I worry about the way this world is changing. I swear that the world has gotten scarier since my innocent babe came into it. Bullying, drugs, violence... they have always been around, but maybe because of the influence of social media, these bad things seem so much bigger and badder now then when I was a child.

Source: PostSecret

During our day-to-day, I am happy and in the moment. I keep my fears in check, definitely keeping them out of her sight. At night though, sometimes I lay there, and I feel them wash over me. My sweet, innocent, loving child. I know I can't protect her, life needs to be lived fully. That means broken hearts, fights with friends, and people who just don't like you. I know that, but still I wonder... will she make friends easily, or will she be lonely? Will she be picked on? Will she even be safe in her school?

These thoughts break my heart. When I was in high school you had to worry about someone starting rumors about you (bad enough), now you have to worry about someone posting something online that can be seen by thousands and will be there forever. And heaven knows I shouldn't have to worry about if my baby will come home from school, but more and more that has become a scary reality of our times.

Why am I sharing this? No reason, except that I couldn't keep it inside anymore. I want hand holding and hair petting and reassuring words. Except that I know there are none to offer. In which case, I can only hope for a little commiseration, and maybe some hope.

What are your biggest fears?



If you find that your fears become overwhelming, making it hard to live your day-to-day life, please talk to your doctor. Fear is normal, anxiety that disrupts your life is not. Postpartum Anxiety is real, and it can be helped.

Flexibility: The Ultimate Sign of Strength in Parenting

For my son's first birthday, my husband found a deal online that was hard to beat, a $100 ball pit/tent on sale for $25. We were thrilled . . . until we read the reviews of it online. It turns out the supports tended to break and most people thought the craftsmanship was not good for small toddlers because it was too delicate. The ball pit lasted throughout our first home, but by the time we moved less than a year later, we had to buy new supports for it. This time, we anchored it to the ceiling and replaced the flimsy, plastic rods with wooden dowels. Still, by the time we moved from that home into our new one this summer, we decided not to put it back up because we knew that the dowels were likely going to break under the pressure our growing son would put them through without the added rafter support we had in the unfinished basement of the house we were moving from.

Yesterday, I found a play tent on sale. Because my husband is gone camping/kayaking this weekend with his family. I thought it would be fun for my son and I to set up our own tent at home and "play" camp. The supports for this tent were very different then our ballpit/tent had been. They were made of many pieces of plastic curved over a thick elastic center. It actually is amazingly flexible. This was perfect because that tent is exactly the type of playstructure my son needs. It is rigid enough to keep the shape of the tent and provide him with the stability of an indoor/outdoor private space. Yet, it is flexible enough to bend when it needs to instead of snapping under the weight of his constant testing.

I think the tale of the two play structures is ultimately the perfect metaphor for what real strength in parenting means. Often, as our children get older and more vocal about how they feel we get frustrated by their inflexibility and their demands. Too often, we, in turn, sometimes feel like we have to be equally inflexible to "show them who's boss" or "to give them structure." Even I've found myself sometimes getting into silly power struggles with my toddler before I've made myself step back and ask, "Is this really a time for inflexibility? Is this really what I want to draw a line in the sand about?" I've found that if I ever feel foolish about "sticking to my guns," than that is my sign that I should probably find a way to compromise or back out gracefully. (As a matter of fact, when I find myself thinking whether or not I should "stick to my guns," I usually discover I shouldn't. "Sticking to your guns" is about defending your life and being willing to shoot down others. . . not the image I would ever want to use when thinking about my relationship with my beloved son.) I'm usually pretty honest with my son about it, even though I know that he is barely three and doesn't really understand everything I am explaining to him. Sometimes, it's just as simple as telling him, "You know what? I've been thinking about how you feel about this and what you've been saying and I think maybe I was wrong and you were right. It is important that you wear some clothes to the store, but if you want to wear the same shirt you've been wearing since yesterday morning, well, okay. Who is that going to harm? It doesn't have any food on it or anything. Just put on some pants for mama and your shoes." Even a toddler respects a compromise when he hears it most of the time and he chose to put on underwear, pants, and shoes even though moments earlier he was demanding to be allowed to go wearing his shirt and nothing but his shirt.

Like the tent frame, there are times when I have no problem being absolutely rigid and holding my shape without compromise. In matters of safety (like my son's food allergies or running in the road), I am completely inflexible. I compensate by remembering to be soft and tender in the way I respect his emotions even as I am telling him absolutely no. I find it's actually pretty easy to be geniunely sympathetic and still firm with my limits when it is a subject on which I know I am in the right about it. When I get the most upset, childishly rigid, and downright power struggly myself is in the situations that are a little more gray. Because I am not completely convinced I am in the right, I play a caricature of myself in which I am Mrs.-Bossy-Pants-I'm-Adult-You-Are-Child. My son does not respond well to that person, and honestly, I wouldn't either. After all, my support for my argument is as flimsy as the support for the crappy ball pit tent. It's so rigid, it fractures when challenged. When I am at my best parenting my son is when I mimic the balance of the new tent frame. I am rigid when he needs support, but flexible when he needs that, too. When I am open to remembering that my relationship with my son is not about who is boss or who is right/wrong, I find the real power in our exchange with one another. It is the power of our mutual love and respect. He is learning to respect my experience and my ability to be flexible when I need to be (and rigid when I need to be) and I am learning (out of love) to respect where he is at in his learning process and that he may have something to teach me about how to really be a strong person and flexible mother.

So, for all those mamas out there who are at the end of their wits with children who are too inflexible and who constantly start power struggles with you, I offer you a hug and all my love. I am there sometimes, too. Keep in mind that the best way to keep your "shape" is to sometimes bend a little when the stakes aren't very high and when the fight isn't worth it. I'm not saying to let them "win" or to "give in," but I am saying that it's okay to find a compromise where you both "win" and where no one has to "give in." You are the frame of your relationship with your children. The strength of your relationship will be in the way you are willing to bend in order to teach your children how to bend themselves. Remember, an old stick is easily snapped and irreparably broken because it has lost its flexibility. A new branch is almost impossible to break because for all its stiffness, it remains flexible and alive inside. Be that branch, even if it is an olive branch sometimes, for the good of your relationship with your child.

Thanks for reading,
Shawna

Children should be seen! And heard!

The Internet has been flaring up about the current trend of making restaurants and other public places child-free. It may come as a surprise that I fully support child-free restaurants. I would much rather know the expectations ahead of time than show up unaware and get the stink-eye from staff and customers for the entire meal. What concerns me is that there are some who expect a child-free experience everywhere--even in places where families are generally expected.

I have shared my opinion about the issue on a few Facebook discussions, but I had never had personal experience until today. Today I was reprimanded by the staff at a particular fast food Italian restaurant for my 2-year-old daughter's behavior. Yes, you read that right. A fast food place!

I had just spent the morning shopping at rummage sales with my friend and her little girl. We decided to eat at this particular restaurant, where we have eaten numerous times over the past ten years. We ordered our food, sat down, and enjoyed our meal as usual. Throughout the meal, my daughter chattered and laughed. When she is happy, she tends to repeatedly say something that sounds like "heeeeeeeey" (think Fat Albert, only cuter). She was very happy today. Could she work on regulating her volume? Sure, but what 2-year-old couldn't? She never left the table, ran around the restaurant, or made a mess.

Still, when we had almost finished our meal, an employee approached us and told us, "Everyone can hear him." (Yes, he guessed the incorrect sex. Because we know that all girls are quiet, demure little princesses, right?) I got the distinct impression that we were no longer welcome. Perhaps he was just responding to a complaint from another customer, but I am just as concerned about what that implies. What does it mean when someone is disturbed enough by a toddler's happy vocalizations to complain?

If we concede, and support some child-free options, isn't it only fair that we welcome children into other areas of society? Where do we draw that line? Casual restaurants? Grocery stores? Or do people with young children just have to hole themselves away in their homes? I say NO! Let's get our kids out and about! Let them be seen, heard, and hopefully, one day, accepted as important members of our society.

Finding Hope in the Midst of Tragedy

The events in Japan almost two weeks ago have been enough to shell shock all of us. If you're like me, the images from over there have been hard to stomach. The numbers of those affected have been overwhelming to say the least and it's seemed surreal that life here in my home has continued to go on as usual while so many lives have been changed forever half a world away.

As I've went about my day to day life I've found myself thinking about the people in Japan (and in other places where natural disasters have hit and caused devastation like Haiti or New Orleans) and what they must be doing. How will their lives ever be normal again? What can be done to help them? What can be done in the future? I've also wondered, as a mom, how do I handle these situations when my son gets old enough to ask about them? What can I say to him when he asks me why these things happen?

Those are big questions and I'm sorry to say I don't have definitive answers for any of them. When it comes to physical aid, there are resources on-line to help you. (Older children can even help you determine the ways in which your family can help. Here's a link to get you started.) However, the more philosophical questions are especially troubling for me. What can I say when my son gets old enough to ask "why" about things that I don't know the answer to? It's one thing to explain the science of global climate change or earthquakes, tsunamis, etc. It's another to answer the emotional "why's."

In the meantime, however, my son is only a year and half and his schedule has been largely unaffected by events a world away. At the library last week, we checked out books (my boy is a voracious book listener). Because he is currently obsessed with balloons (a by product both of his increased speaking skills and my birthday two weeks ago), we checked out the book The Yellow Balloon. If you haven't seen the book before (and I wouldn't blame you if you haven't), it's a little like "Where's Waldo." There are no words, just different complex scenes on every page and together you try to find the yellow balloon wherever it is hidden. Sometimes, the balloon is pretty obvious and you find it quickly, sometimes the scene is very, very complicated and the balloon is very tiny and hard to find. My son and I had a blast finding the balloon on every page, and even when both of us would be frustrated, we kept going because we knew that somewhere on that page there was a yellow balloon. When my husband got home, we shared the book with him, but he was less than impressed. On every page, in every scene, rather than focusing on the yellow balloon, my husband kept looking for scenes of impending doom or mayhem. Even when I looked at the same images and mentioned that each scene might have some hope in it, he seemed more distracted by his perception of chaos than the hope found in the yellow balloon. (For example, in one scene a ship wrecks, but on the next page, the crew is being helped. My husband claimed that it had to be new people being helped because clearly the whole crew would probably be dead.)

It wasn't until much later in the evening that it occurred to me that what my husband was doing with that book was exactly what I (and many others) have been thinking about the events in Japan. The truth is that there are just some events so awful that there is no answer of "why" that we can accept or understand. As a mother, I can't ever answer those larger philosophical questions adequately when my son asks them. He will have to wrestle with them just as much as I do. What I can do, however, is teach him to look for the hope (no matter how slight) in even the most awful and chaotic situations. I can teach him to honor the survivors of natural disasters and to grieve with them. I can teach him to rejoice when those presumed dead are found alive. I can teach him to learn what lessons can be gleaned from tragedies. I can teach him to embrace the joy of living even in the face of tragedy. I can teach him to do what he can when he can and to not lose hope when he can't fix everything and doesn't have all the answers. I can teach him to embrace the yellow balloon.

Thanks for reading,

Connected Mom, Shawna

Saturday Snuggles : Boo... the other white milk.

This post could also be titled: "Short & Sweet Saturday"...

I've been thinking since Wednesday what I could write to follow up to "Things...". I actually have some thoughts-- including my husband's reaction to that blog & my reaction to his reaction-- I know that sounds weird, but his take surprised me and I realized I hadn't heard his entire thought on the subject before.

Anyway-- that'll probably be next Wednesday's blog..

Today (tonight?) I'm keeping it short & sweet. I had a wedding cake delivery today, dinner with my father-in-law & sister-in-law (and kids & hubby-- who were all with me on my cake delivery-- can we say "STRESS"!?), so I'm wiped out.

This morning, my 3.5 year old pulled a 'Guggie' on me. This is my new term for when someone says something so obvious.. so evident.. so TRUE.... (like Guggie Daly's quote about circumcision).

She asked to 'boo' today. This has been going on the past week, as she's been battling some germies and has asked for (& been granted) 'boo'.

Chloe was taken aback, as she hasn't been around for this sporadic un-weaning. She said to Marley, "Don't you want 'egular' milk?" (yes, Mo calls white milk 'egular as opposed to chocolate milk).

Marley looked at Chloe & without missing a beat says...... wait for it...... this kid, in her infinite wisdom responds (loudly)........

"Boo *is* 'egular milk!"

(insert jawdrop & beams of sunshine from me).

She then told Chloe that "it's sweet & yummy" & that "it makes you feel better and not sick".

My kid at 3.5 years old knows what lactivists everywhere have been trying to say for ages...

Breastfeeding is NORMAL. It is 'regular'! Cow milk for baby cows, human milk for baby humans & all that jazz.

I have never been so proud of a child as I was in that moment!!

My Little Lactivist 2008

Well... there was the day I came downstairs to this.... ;o)

Have a great weekend, everyone!