Just finished reading a post on baby showers by a lovely lady who's been around the blogosphere long enough to know how to write a post that gets one thinking! One thing that struck me, as I commented is how my own views towards materialism have just about turned 180 degrees in terms of priorities.
Stuff is one of those pervasively ubiquitous categories in life, at least for us in the industrialized world. Lucky us. >.< It begins for us, over a bowl of cheerios, interrupting the stories on that magic box, the ones our parents might read to us if the power goes out, but have come alive through the mediums we call network tv. A flash of colour. A catchy tune. Little girls with a toy so captivating, it causes her peers to gravitate in her direction, as though--almost--against their will. In the thirty second lifetime of that ad, our children are hooked. Not chemically. Not physically, though the craving and nagging are a certain common physical symptoms of this addiction. No, this is more insidious. They are hooked emotionally, and even instinctively.
We are told, in our formative years, that we NEED this, or we HAVE to have it. Why? Because our friends will love us for it. We are told during the practice stage, as we shakily attempt those mysterious grown up rituals, that this will ATTRACT, this will ENERGIZE, this will secure our place in the group. We are told as adults, as mothers and fathers, that we SHOULD get this, or we OUGHT to have that. Because it's good for our family. And those of us that believe the promises on the screen, share one fundamental thing. I believe, if asked to sum up their immediate thoughts and feelings into one succinct word, very few shopaholics would say first, "I am happy." They might admit to inadequacy, or anxiety. Depending on the number of bags in their hands, perhaps multiplied by the level of social distinction conveyed by the names blazoned across them, you find one or two shoppers who feel "GREAT! CHARGED! READY TO GO!" That would make sense, given the levels of dopamine their brains are releasing because of what they carry in their hands.
What really frightens me is that, in our society, we have progressed to a point where accumulation of things can be a harmless passion, a career, and a brain-warping disease all at once. Very few slices of life can claim the same. Some of us have almost forgotten the kiss of non-recycled air, or the soul-calming effect of a view with neither billboard, nor ad. There are those of us who would rank the thrill of the deal higher than the true accomplishment of having a quiet, happy home. As long as we're talking about chemical brain reaction, why not remember instead, the nerves that fire when you hold your infant close, and your very cells recognize her as a part of you. Can a hoarder, or a salesman, or an antique cola bottle collector remember the sound of a song sung just for them? The flattery of a child who screams with delight as you walk through the door?
The picture of a person reduced to covetous greed is not new at all. We've seen this before, and all we did was create a much more complex model. We're good at that. However, we're also pretty good at loving. Says the 7 billionth baby, anyway! ;) So, what say we challenge ourselves? Can we, as industrialized humans let go of the 'paper or plastic' and focus instead on 'carrots or broccoli;' 'Empty papertowel tube, or box that the Crockpot came in;' 'Go for a walk, or play house'? Can we place trust in our tiny humans, that they will thrive if they are Disney-less and remember that saying no will not transform our beautiful babies into outcasts, nor must it break them.
I believe we can do it, but it will take strength. And it will take our greatest strength. But the important part (the part that would be flashed on the screen a half dozen times were this playing on latenight TV) is that we can do it.
Says Baby 5,079,451,844, !
Saturday 21 January 2012
Tuesday 17 January 2012
worry wart
There's maybe an inch of snow on the ground, and I'm wondering if today is the day The Other Half doesn't come home because he's gotten himself hospitalized. Does that seem a little extreme? Of course it does. Even to me. That doesn't mean my mind isn't revolving around the repercussions of a car accident in my family.
If I were a superhero, my name would be Worst-Case Scenario Girl. If the hijinks I get myself into don't end in one, well my brain is fixated on what would happen if it did... I read internet articles and wonder who around me will eventually axe murder me one day. I notice the tub needs a cleaning, and wonder what horrible bacterial infection I've given my daughter by making her bathe in it. I see a beetle scuttle across the floor, and image search cockroaches, and bed bugs, which inevitably leads me to Youtube videos of necrotic spiderbites from across the world, wherein, I take my glass of wine and sit rocking and humming in a corner. Daily life on this vicious rock can be enough to give a girl the thousand yard stare.
I'll admit it, it's probably stupid. And 99.8% of the things I worry about will never happen to me, or most of the people I love. It's that .2% that's left that eats at me...
What's your .2%?
If I were a superhero, my name would be Worst-Case Scenario Girl. If the hijinks I get myself into don't end in one, well my brain is fixated on what would happen if it did... I read internet articles and wonder who around me will eventually axe murder me one day. I notice the tub needs a cleaning, and wonder what horrible bacterial infection I've given my daughter by making her bathe in it. I see a beetle scuttle across the floor, and image search cockroaches, and bed bugs, which inevitably leads me to Youtube videos of necrotic spiderbites from across the world, wherein, I take my glass of wine and sit rocking and humming in a corner. Daily life on this vicious rock can be enough to give a girl the thousand yard stare.
I'll admit it, it's probably stupid. And 99.8% of the things I worry about will never happen to me, or most of the people I love. It's that .2% that's left that eats at me...
What's your .2%?
Tuesday 10 January 2012
my apologies for the overshares
I decided to have kids early. There were many reasons to do so... you can blame it on meeting a guy worth procreating with. You can blame it on my loneliness for family after my mother's death. You can give all kinds of reasons why I took the plunge early. None of them matter anymore. Fact is, my ladies are here, and this is my life. I can still do other things with it, they'll just have to wait a couple years. I'm willing to sacrifice a degree, martinis, and uninterrupted conversation for now...
But unfortunately becoming a young mother has many inherent disadvantages, also. One of the worst, to my childless friends at least, is the tendency to overshare. Let me just say, right now: I AM SORRY! I know you don't care about the consistency of my babies bowel movements, nor does my toddlers accomplishments give you the rush of accomplishment, the way it does for me. I do try to limit my gushing/complaining/bodily fluid-induced despair, but it is so very hard! As a human being, we are programmed to reach out, to relate to another. These moms broadcasting their worries, and joys and opinions are participating in an evolutionarily necessary activity, (and amongst ourselves) we're LOVING it! The fire we gather around to share what we've learned over the day will always be a cherished, important part of parenthood.
Alright, I'm headed in the direction of a completely different topic. Focus, Mom! Perhaps, it would help for one who is horribly guilty of Overshare in the First Degree to break down the elements of the crime, so as to better understand the mental path that leads to statuses about poop. I do this not for the parents out there, because you know already how easy it is to fall into the trap of thinking that people you went to middle school with care about your child's hysterical way of eating pizza. (upside down, natch; i mean really, who does that? My Booger Pile is a unique one! :D)
No, I do this for those of you still blissfully ignorant of the tug of infant smiles. The concern brought about by bowel movements the colour of 80's leg warmers. The delirious moment that comes in the dead of night after the third wakeup call, at least one load of laundry, and the despair that arises when you realize it's been more than one week since your last shower. These are the people that need to understand the primal urge to share, so strongly felt by those who are too exhausted to properly utilize the more civilized parts of their brain.
The overshare, as rationalized in the mind of the offender, is an anecdote, and/or expression of emotion, intended to amuse or inform the recipient of diverse minutiae relating to the daily activities of the offender and their progeny. Topics can range from the unimportant to the wildly personal. Results include expressions of relateability, a false sense of approval garnered by rising numbers of "likes" depending on the ratio of parents to the childless among online contacts, and at least one squeamish teenager wincing at the mental picture created by accurate (albeit amusing) descriptions of bodily fluids in motion. The true master of the overshare is capable of making a victim feel both repulsed, and fascinated, and yet somehow respond in a manner appropriate to the social setting. As if nothing ever happened.
There are three main categories of oversharing. The first, and least offensive can be characterized as mildly irritating, or could-have-been-interesting-had-it-not-been-so-obnoxious, depending on the topic, and the viewer's opinion of said topic. A good example is the oversharer who posts multiple statuses about the meal of the day, and caps off with a badly lit digital photo of said meal before it is consumed. This oversharer does not realize that very few people care so much about what she happens to be eating, nor do they require a visual stimulant of a meal they aren't going to eat. I plead guilty to multiple charges of this particular crime. Also, pulled pork is on the menu for today, and it's going to be delicious. Chew on that.
The second category can escalate into true conflict if the participants don't have sufficient self control, or an aptitude for topical debate. This category involves the status/blog post/tweet about any code of conduct that conflicts with the personal morals of the one reading the status. This category is unique in that it is not the sole dominion of parents. Posts, involving theological arguments, political leanings, and non-scientific opinion relating to something scientific can all be considered overshare in the second degree, not because it is too much information, but rather it is information that should stay personal for the greater peace of the group. Shalom Bayis, as God's Chosen would say. (those among you who are most guilty of this type of overshare will recognize that last as a mistake on my part; but too bad, I don't know enough Hebrew to say "peace amongst friends".) A parent can easily identify this type of overshare in the forums with threads containing within the title Montessori, exclusive breast feeding, or Tiger Parenting.
The third, and most serious category of oversharing is also the most obvious. This is the status with "TMI!" repeated in it's comments. This is the dreaded poop story. This is the most controversial of overshares (yes, even over the theological argument!) for many reasons, not the least of which is that so many of us are enamoured of the overshare! I delight in a great fart story. I will snort laugh for hours over tales of childish terms for bodily fluids. And it's not just me! Websites like Damn You Autocorrect wouldn't be so popular if there wasn't a tiny part of all of us that likes to laugh at dick jokes!
But the fact remains, after all hilarious stories are told, that these are personal stories about small people who don't get a say about what they want people reading about on the internet. The fundamental issue at stake here is respect. Respect for our tiny humans who must learn how to respect themselves. And they can't do that, if we don't show them what that looks like. And as much as I enjoy a good bath story, I will (I must) reign in my tendency to tell you about my kids and their doings. They deserve that from me.
In conclusion, I offer my regret, and I wish to make it understood that this is not a victimless crime. With proper rehabilitation, us parents of young children can return to civilized adult conversation with nary an appearance of poop stories or model comparison of child-rearing techniques. It will take a community to reform those among us most guilty of this issue. But it can be done. And if our pristine, childless peers can't help us heal... there's always the teenage years.
PS: 'To the German Commander: NUTS!'
Oh Network TV. How you fill my need for dirty humour without harming my children directly! Oh wait...
But unfortunately becoming a young mother has many inherent disadvantages, also. One of the worst, to my childless friends at least, is the tendency to overshare. Let me just say, right now: I AM SORRY! I know you don't care about the consistency of my babies bowel movements, nor does my toddlers accomplishments give you the rush of accomplishment, the way it does for me. I do try to limit my gushing/complaining/bodily fluid-induced despair, but it is so very hard! As a human being, we are programmed to reach out, to relate to another. These moms broadcasting their worries, and joys and opinions are participating in an evolutionarily necessary activity, (and amongst ourselves) we're LOVING it! The fire we gather around to share what we've learned over the day will always be a cherished, important part of parenthood.
Alright, I'm headed in the direction of a completely different topic. Focus, Mom! Perhaps, it would help for one who is horribly guilty of Overshare in the First Degree to break down the elements of the crime, so as to better understand the mental path that leads to statuses about poop. I do this not for the parents out there, because you know already how easy it is to fall into the trap of thinking that people you went to middle school with care about your child's hysterical way of eating pizza. (upside down, natch; i mean really, who does that? My Booger Pile is a unique one! :D)
No, I do this for those of you still blissfully ignorant of the tug of infant smiles. The concern brought about by bowel movements the colour of 80's leg warmers. The delirious moment that comes in the dead of night after the third wakeup call, at least one load of laundry, and the despair that arises when you realize it's been more than one week since your last shower. These are the people that need to understand the primal urge to share, so strongly felt by those who are too exhausted to properly utilize the more civilized parts of their brain.
The overshare, as rationalized in the mind of the offender, is an anecdote, and/or expression of emotion, intended to amuse or inform the recipient of diverse minutiae relating to the daily activities of the offender and their progeny. Topics can range from the unimportant to the wildly personal. Results include expressions of relateability, a false sense of approval garnered by rising numbers of "likes" depending on the ratio of parents to the childless among online contacts, and at least one squeamish teenager wincing at the mental picture created by accurate (albeit amusing) descriptions of bodily fluids in motion. The true master of the overshare is capable of making a victim feel both repulsed, and fascinated, and yet somehow respond in a manner appropriate to the social setting. As if nothing ever happened.
There are three main categories of oversharing. The first, and least offensive can be characterized as mildly irritating, or could-have-been-interesting-had-it-not-been-so-obnoxious, depending on the topic, and the viewer's opinion of said topic. A good example is the oversharer who posts multiple statuses about the meal of the day, and caps off with a badly lit digital photo of said meal before it is consumed. This oversharer does not realize that very few people care so much about what she happens to be eating, nor do they require a visual stimulant of a meal they aren't going to eat. I plead guilty to multiple charges of this particular crime. Also, pulled pork is on the menu for today, and it's going to be delicious. Chew on that.
The second category can escalate into true conflict if the participants don't have sufficient self control, or an aptitude for topical debate. This category involves the status/blog post/tweet about any code of conduct that conflicts with the personal morals of the one reading the status. This category is unique in that it is not the sole dominion of parents. Posts, involving theological arguments, political leanings, and non-scientific opinion relating to something scientific can all be considered overshare in the second degree, not because it is too much information, but rather it is information that should stay personal for the greater peace of the group. Shalom Bayis, as God's Chosen would say. (those among you who are most guilty of this type of overshare will recognize that last as a mistake on my part; but too bad, I don't know enough Hebrew to say "peace amongst friends".) A parent can easily identify this type of overshare in the forums with threads containing within the title Montessori, exclusive breast feeding, or Tiger Parenting.
The third, and most serious category of oversharing is also the most obvious. This is the status with "TMI!" repeated in it's comments. This is the dreaded poop story. This is the most controversial of overshares (yes, even over the theological argument!) for many reasons, not the least of which is that so many of us are enamoured of the overshare! I delight in a great fart story. I will snort laugh for hours over tales of childish terms for bodily fluids. And it's not just me! Websites like Damn You Autocorrect wouldn't be so popular if there wasn't a tiny part of all of us that likes to laugh at dick jokes!
But the fact remains, after all hilarious stories are told, that these are personal stories about small people who don't get a say about what they want people reading about on the internet. The fundamental issue at stake here is respect. Respect for our tiny humans who must learn how to respect themselves. And they can't do that, if we don't show them what that looks like. And as much as I enjoy a good bath story, I will (I must) reign in my tendency to tell you about my kids and their doings. They deserve that from me.
In conclusion, I offer my regret, and I wish to make it understood that this is not a victimless crime. With proper rehabilitation, us parents of young children can return to civilized adult conversation with nary an appearance of poop stories or model comparison of child-rearing techniques. It will take a community to reform those among us most guilty of this issue. But it can be done. And if our pristine, childless peers can't help us heal... there's always the teenage years.
PS: 'To the German Commander: NUTS!'
Oh Network TV. How you fill my need for dirty humour without harming my children directly! Oh wait...
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