Reasons to be cheerful

Several chapters into my book, I can conclude that swearing off Twitter and Facebook for the weekend has made me able to concentrate more on the static printed word. Am I a better, more cultured person for it? Unlikely (it was a Peter James thriller, didn’t want to totally alienate myself at the start of the experiment) – but I have definitely carved out a little more mental space in my social media-free zone. In the same way that I feel better for a few nights without wine, I can only enjoy such abstinence in the knowledge that I can return to it at will. So expect to see me all over Facebook again tomorrow – but it’s nice to know I can leave for 48 hours and not be missed (actually…<humphy face>).

Other things that have made my weekend more enjoyable:

  • Spending some time overhauling my career plans (self-employed people could do a lot worse than check out some of Bernadette Doyle’s videos on getting out of the time-for-money trap)
  • Doing something I hated that my children loved. Specifically spending two hours going up and down the flume at the Triangle in Burgess Hill. One of the seven circles of hell for the over-12s.
  • Highlighting things I like the look of in the Brighton Festival guide, Radio Times at Christmas-style. I might not go to see any of them, but anticipation is half the fun.
  • Battling through Saturday with a hangover, as a result of a Friday night out in the local pub. Reminds me that  it’s nice to have people to go out and drink too much with, even if the kids decide to wake at 5.10 and get out the accordion and drum kit to emphasise their pleasure at seeing me.

What made you :-) this weekend?

 

Thanks to Twitter I can no longer read a book

It’s a situation of my own making, I’ll be the first to admit. But I have tried to read a book (fiction) at bedtime for the last few nights and just can’t get beyond the first few lines. I’m impatient at having to concentrate for so long and reach for my iphone on the bedside table to check my email/Facebook/Twitter account once more before going to sleep. The book will be exactly the same as I left it in the morning, but the world will have moved on. If only we didn’t need sleep, I could really keep up to date.

I am aware of how bad this is, and it has got exponentially worse since a) I bought a smartphone and b) began engaging seriously with Twitter. My gnat-like attention span has been even more corroded by these two factors, and I have started forcing myself out of the cafe (free wifi) and into the library to work as I can’t get online. If I stuff my phone right into the bottom of my bag, I can usually do at least 20 minutes’ work without checking it.

Like all addicts, I pretend I’m in control. “It’s not the technology itself, but the abuse of it that’s the problem” I declaim, making promises to my future self about ensuring my boys won’t have screens in their bedrooms when they’re teenagers. Other than the fact that in 10 years we’ll probably have screens sewn into our eyelids, I realise what a hypocrite I am – and also how annoying to be with. I would hate someone to be with me and constantly checking their phone – but I have become that person.

There is (some) justification – as a self-employed person, I need to be “out there” promoting my wares and I don’t want to only tweet my products and services (it’s dull and I tend to quickly unfollow people who do this). But this means engaging with other people and reading stuff – and there just aren’t enough hours in the day for it.

But this being unable to read a book situation has made me look twice at my online behaviour. This weekend, at least, I am going to stay off Twitter and Facebook, and see if I’ve managed to finish a chapter of a book by Sunday night. Granted it’s not a very long time (and not very scientific), but worth doing nonetheless. I just hope nothing really important happens during that time. Or at least that people don’t talk too much about it until Monday…

Positively downbeat

I have started following some “inspirational” people on Twitter, in the hope that some of their positivity and energy might rub off on me. I’m a big fan of the concept of making changes to your life to make you feel better. The term “self-help” has become something of a dirty word, but I have always been attracted to people who can see the best in their circumstances and actually *do* something to change what’s not working, instead of bellyaching to their mates and then getting up the next morning and carrying on in the same old way.

So I am following these people in good faith. But I can’t help but wonder what happens “between the tweets” as ’twere. I know everyone has off days and moments of self-doubt. But I love the image of Anthony Robbins walking out of his arena-filling seminars and just emitting a series of fucks, to somehow redress the balance. Or Susan Jeffers snarling at kittens for sport.

For where there is light, surely there must be dark. Are motivational speakers and “upbeat” coaches hideous to live with? As they have to be positive for their living, do they have days where they can only raise a smile if money is involved?

I know that sounds deeply cynical, and, as I say, I am all for positive action. But I guess I would like to see a little more ambiguity in their communications. It would make the positive ones seem more authentic and less “businesslike”. I know people like their idols to be human -but not too much, and they are selling us an idealised version of themselves. So it makes good commercial sense to sell what we want from them. But it’s making my Twitter feed look awfully upbeat and “out there” – something I’m not really feeling at the moment. So if I follow you on Twitter, or you’re my friend on Facebook, could you leave some slightly gloomy comments or update, please? Just to keep the earth turning on its axis and to restore balance to the universe, you understand…

Are your kids on your Facebook profile pic?

And does it matter?

It does, according to American academic Katie Roiphe, who wrote an article called Disappearing Mothers in the FT last week. It’s deliberately provocative, and has stirred emotions sufficiently on my Facebook page for me to want to examine it more comprehensively and thoughtfully here.

The central gist is that women who choose photographs of their children to represent themselves instead of their own image are victims of a societal attitude which places the child at the forefront of the family, to the detriment of the mother’s identity as a separate individual.

It’s a flawed article (I’m not convinced that the child’s squeaky shoes she mentions are evidence of anything other than the fact that a lot of kids’ stuff is annoying – Hello Puppy, anyone?) – but I do think her main argument has merit.

I think the way you feel about being a mother has a lot to do with your own childhood, the way your parents treated you, and the role you held within the family unit. Parents have always reacted to their own upbringing and, consciously and unconsciously, this colours their parenting of their own children. If you were brought up in a very strict, hostile environment you will (hopefully) want to bring up your children in a more loving manner, putting their needs first. In the same way, those who were given plenty of freedom may crave structure and discipline.

Societal trends about parenting also fluctuate. From the austere, “seen but not heard” attitude in our grandparents’ day, to the “anything goes”, pleasure seeking instinct of the baby boomers, there tends to be a characteristic parenting style of each generation. And of course, many other factors influence this such as the economics of the day, levels of employment, whether the country is at war, etc.

Thanks to increased understanding of developmental psychology and scientific advances that enable us to see exactly what goes on in children’s brains, we have more information than ever about parenting. And, with the advance of the internet, we can not only access this information, but also share it, opine about it, etc. Alongside these developments we have witnessed an increasing fetishisation of mothers in Western society. Celebrities, once interviewed about their acting roles or meanings of their songs now gush about how nothing is more fulfilling than motherhood. (It’s also a cunning way of stopping them getting too big for their boots and getting really good jobs at the highest level, but that’s for another blog.)

Motherhood is big business. Those of us in our thirties and forties who have become mothers in the last decade are surrounded by a barrage of information and expectation. Now we know what could negatively affect our child, we have to make damn sure we don’t do it. Stay at home or go to work? Sleep with your child or do controlled crying? Encourage lots of activities or let them do what they want? Screens or books? Whatever our choices, there is someone wielding a study that shows we have probably damaged our children and will pay the price in bad behaviour/ low achievement/poor attachment, etc.

The majority of mothers I know are doing the absolute best they can for their children and their families  under a huge amount of pressure. Everyone has an opinion on our parenting, from what we feed the children, to what they can or can’t watch on TV. Amongst all this noise and decision-making, it can be very easy to lose sight of the people we are. We spend so much time “outside” ourselves, meeting the needs of others (be they our boss or our children) that we can forget we have a few of our own.

Of course I’m not saying we should neglect our children – their needs, especially when they’re small, will always and instinctively take priority. But even when they are young, we need to carve out space for our own lives as well. Not only for us, but for our children – it’s important that they see we have other interests and opinions, and they are not included in all of it. They need us to see us as mothers, but also acknowledge we have a role as partners and as individuals.

For this to happen, we need to give women more options when they become mothers. A good place to start would be more highly subsidised childcare, and of uniformly good quality (we also need to pay our early years workers a lot more than they are currently getting). We already enjoy a good, long maternity leave in the UK, but I would also be in favour of introducing a “papa” day, as they have in the Netherlands, where men are legally allowed to work a four-day week and spend one day looking after the kids.

Not all mothers want to work when the kids are small, and my point is that there should be genuine choice. Make it viable for women to work if they choose – more part-time jobs, more job shares. If not, no problem. But lets acknowledge that there’s more to being a woman than being a mother. It might be the most important thing, but it’s not everything. And being aware of our external representation of ourself (a Facebook profile pic or something else) – if only just to make us question how “mummified” we’ve become – is a good place to start.