Facebook and relationships

I remember dating in the days before cell phones, texting and Facebook.  I know it sounds absolutely prehistoric but believe it or not it wasn't that long ago. Where you could go all day without being in communication with your significant other, well, because you had no choice. And let me tell you, men prefer those days. How much is too much information?  A story if I may, we were having a family dinner and my brother was complaining about his current love interest.  I would say girlfriend but she didn't last long enough.  Apparently she was fond of sending the occasional random text just updating the poor guy on her day.  He miserably provided examples and I tsked tsked my way through them, shaking my head.  Some women.  I turn to see the Romanian staring at me in amazement. "what?" I ask. "you do that," he replies. Me? What? Excuse me? I then pull out my phone and go through my sent texts eager to dispute.  To my horror, I am guilty, I cannot meet the disappointed eyeballs of my brother. I hang my head in shame. My sister cackles. Since then I have tried to curb my random texting but sometimes my phone gets the better of me. To be fair to the Romanian, he replies, mostly with one word answers, but he replies.

Now Facebook, how much disclosure is necessary?  Everything is now available to you, from the moment they signed on to their most recent status update.  Every picture, every comment, every "like" is there for your viewing (stalking) pleasure. Now ladies, and some men, please keep in mind ALL activity before your introduction into your SO's life cannot be used as ammunition for arguments.  Also, please keep in mind that they had a life before you and knew people before you and will most likely maintain those relationships.

Now, in my opinion Facebook takes the mystery out of relationships. What is left to talk about at the end of the day? If anything exciting happened it's already been put out there via your status, so they already know. Also, keep your drama off your wall.  I am very particular with NOT posting every time the Romanian and I have a disagreement and I hate those passive aggressive status updates, saying but not really saying what a asshole you're dating.  Sigh.

So, be careful how much you share, how often you share and what you share.  Also, be careful how much you creep, how often you creep and what you creep.  Moderation.

Facebook depression?

According to the American Academy of Pediatrics "Facebook depression" is defined as depression that develops when preteens and teens spend a great deal of time on social media sites, such as Facebook, and then begin to exhibit classic symptoms of depression.


Apparently social media is the primary way tweens and teens interact socially.  Sigh.  THIS new finding depressed me.  Iron Fist will be a tween in a couple years and if things are this bad now I shudder to think how it will be then.  I mean Facebook depression? Is there no moderation anymore?  These kids are being exposed to cyber bullying, sexting, inappropriate content, predators and God knows what else.  Where are the parents?  Who is monitoring all of this?  It angers me when technology is blamed, no the parents are to blame. If you see your child sitting in front of the computer for hours assume something is not right.  Please.  A 10 year cannot have that much homework.  Take an interest.  Do not allow the computer to babysit your child.  


On a similar note, children are being given more than they are possibly ready for, and yes by the parents.  For example, I was taking a leisurely stroll in the park with the Romanian, enjoying the afternoon.  These two little girls around Iron Fists age go skipping by, I smile benignly upon them thinking "how sweet, so nice to see kids out and about playing and such" By the way, I am aware that I am portraying myself as a granny but I don't care, I like leisurely strolls and I enjoy smiling benignly upon random cute kids.  Sue me, I'm 33 goddammit.  Anyway, I digress. Said cute, skipping kid stops abruptly in front of us and whips out her, yes HER, cell phone and barks into it, "where have you been you stupid prick I've been calling you all day!!"  Apparently her boyfriend was remiss in returning her phone calls on time.  The Romanian and I are speechless.  A brief argument and her and her friend resume skipping, all the way to the swings where they return to being children.  


Now why, for the love of Bob, does this child need a cell phone?  Did she go to the provider, request a plan and sign the contract?  Is she paying the monthly bills? By giving her this phone her parents are inadvertently robbing her of her childhood.  People just because we have a lot at our availability does not mean we have to utilize. Moderation. 


Iron Fist is not getting a cell phone, she can use two tin cans and a string.

Homework Time

Some background information:

Iron Fist hates doing homework, will do anything to get out of it inclusive of: pretending to be asleep, sick and an urgent need for the washroom etc etc. Her father is a wonderful Daddy, loving and caring with unlimited patience (with the exception of homework time as you will soon see), who absolutely adores his little Iron Fist.

So Iron Fists Dad came over to spend some time with her yesterday before his 2 week vacation (must be nice). I immediately pawned off her homework onto him and went upstairs to struggle with my own.  All was well for a bit until I heard her Dad yell "Iron Fist PLEASE pay attention!!!" and the responding whimper from Iron Fist.  I tuned out, returning to my media list for my client project. I managed to get about 10 minutes of work done before I heard the rumblings of a riot regarding a hexagon.

I sigh dramatically, even though there is no one around to see me, and wearily climb out of bed.  Yes I do my homework on the bed, sometimes I mix it up and move from the left side to the right side. I go down to the kitchen, Iron Fist sees me and immediately starts crying.

"Daddy's mean!"
"Iron Fist is not listening!"  they both say this at the same time.  Apparently her Dad was looking for something in her workbook, Iron Fist didn't know where it was and I found it in two seconds.  With an air of superiority I sort out the mess and calm both parties down. I sigh again, this one meaning "I pretend to hate this but I actually enjoy showing what a wonderful mother I am."  I untangle Iron Fist from my lap, where she had climbed on to sulk in comfort, and make my way back upstairs.

Peace ensues for about an hour, Iron Fist and her Dad are seemingly working in harmony.  I go back downstairs to see if they are both still alive.  Iron Fist and her Dad are busy cuddling on the couch, two weeks worth of cuddles takes a while.  I leave them to it and make some tea.  Her Dad eventually announces his departure and I remind him for the millionth time to be careful and not to talk to strangers (old habits die hard).  Hugs and kisses all around and he's on his way.

Iron Fist looks at me, "I need a cookie!" in the same tone that I use after a particularly hard day when I say "I need a drink!"

Cheers.

The Power of Social Media

So this past weekend The Romanian and I took Iron Fist to see the Justin Bieber movie.  I have to say prior to the movie I didn't really have an opinion of the Biebs.  Iron Fist on the other hand is obsessed with him.  Now, having watched the movie, I have to say I kind of like the kid, despite his mop-head.

What was truly amazing was the power of social media, the way in which it plucked this child out of obscurity and launched him into super-stardom.  First off he was discovered on YouTube and as he started getting exposure on radio stations, he used Twitter to let his fans know exactly where he would be and when. Brilliant.  He went from posting covers on YouTube to rubbing elbows with the likes of Usher and selling out Madison Square garden.  The movie specifically portrays scenes where he tweets before bed to update his fans on his whereabouts and his well being.

In my opinion, the movie is a success.  It shows Justin and his family in a positive light and for those (like me) who did not know, you see that the child is actually VERY talented.  His voice is genuinely good, no digital enhancements needed *cough* Britney, and he plays a number of instruments.  Hopefully, he continues on the straight and narrow, judging from his family background they will do their best to keep this going.

The only thing is that this is just a child, and as hard as they must have tried to show how supportive and caring  his management team is, they are draining him.  They are making millions off of him and they don't intend to stop.  He seems to be a sweet, accommodating child who wants to please everyone and who honestly just wants to entertain.  Hopefully, he is not being taken advantage of. My opinion is hell yeah he is, but I could be wrong.

Iron Fist

The Invalid

So it's another Friday night in my household. Everyone is at home at the merciless beck and call of the invalid.....my 7 year old daughter, aka the "Iron Fist".  She strikes fear into the very marrow of our bones.  One scathing look can bring her Nan to her knees.  And I am not even remotely exaggerating, I wish I was.

My sister and I have escaped down to the kitchen for a glass of wine, Nan didn't make it, she fell at the border, dragged back into Iron Fists lair.  We whisper feverishly, delirious with our freedom.
"I don't hear anything," my sisters eyes are huge with fear, "poor Nan."
I am busy with the wine, clumsy in my haste.
"it's her own fault, I told her not to look directly into her eyes," I pop the cork and sloppily pour the  wine. "We'll take her a glass."
"Cant you give her a tad more Tylenol?  u know to knock her out??" my sister cant meet my eyes, she too ashamed at her suggestion.
I sigh, "I did."  Nothing doing, Tylenol is no match for Iron Fist.
From above we hear theme song to Hannah Montana, all is well, Iron Fist is occupied.

Now, for those of you who are not parents may say, "ahh she's just a kid, how bad can it be?".  Well I am here to let you know ALL parents would rather lose an eyeball than have to suffer through a a couple days of the flu.  First off, they don't sleep, and when they don't sleep, you don't sleep.  Stuffy noses are bad on their own, but when you have a child who sucks their thumb it's doubly terrifying. The nose is clogged up and then the thumbs in the mouth, so breathing is difficult.  And of course it's my fault she can't breathe.  And nosedrops? Lord, if you even go near her with that you can lose an arm.  So what ends up happening is the child is propped up on 800 pillows to attempt to keep her nasal cavity somewhat clear.  Then her neck hurts and it's just a carnival.  Then you have the fever, body aches, coughing and sneezing to add to the experience.

I walk into my room, armed hot chocolate to appease the Iron Fist.  I come bearing gifts.  She looks up at me, takes her thumb out of her mouth.
"where'd you go mama?" deceptively calm she voices her question.  Nan's eyelids flicker and I know she's gonna make a run for it.
" oh i had to go to the wash room," my voice is an octave higher, Iron Fist smells my fear, her eyes narrow suspiciously.  My sister quakes at the bedroom door.
"I didn't hear the toilet flush," her eyes are focused on Hannah, but oh no, she's onto me. "is that hot chocolate?" she questions.  I nod and offer it to her.  She accepts and sips.  Iron Fist is pleased.  She looks up at me with her huge chocolate brown eyes and a huge smile. This is my baby.  Iron Fist is gone.
"oh mama, you are the best mama in the whole wide world," and she reaches over for a cuddle and a kiss.  A collective sigh is heard throughout the house.

It's hard but is it worth it, absolutely, definitely YES.

Friday Night

So it’s Friday night, sprawled on my bed watching a stupid bridal show and talking to my best friend Sheena.  We are commenting on the brides.  I have a pot belly, having just finished four slices of pizza and a glass of wine.

“What’s she thinking?  She’s way to lumpy for that dress,” spits out Sheena

“She’s gonna buy it,” I say with satisfaction, Sheena cackles, “so stupid. “  I agree.  I cast an eye over at my seven year old daughter, who is gyrating furiously to a Hannah Montana song. God I’m tired.

“I’m gonna sleep so good tonight,” I inform Sheena.  “I’m so excited!”

“Why,” she asks, barely masking her disinterest.

“To sleep you idiot,” I yawn into the phone.  I live on the edge.

“Oh yeah, me too.  What did u eat for dinner?”  she asks, for lack of anything else to say.  We’ve been on the phone for an hour now and this is the highlight.

“Pizza and wine, you?”

“Beer and wings,” she burps gently into the phone to illustrate.

“We’re perfect for each other, too bad we’re not gay,” I say regretfully.

“Doesn’t matter, we could still get married, how many married couples you know actually have sex?”  as always, she makes an excellent point. 

“And besides, I could adopt Ana,” she continues, I ponder this.  “I can drop her to school, help her with her homework, we’ll do our nails every weekend…..” 

“You can’t, her dad,” I feel bad for throwing a wrench into her future.

“If he dies I could,” we are both silent as we digest this.

“But Ana would miss her dad,” I venture.

“Yeh, I guess.”

“Yeh.” 

We both watch from our respective homes as another bride lacking in taste struggles into a dress. 

“Where’s Brandon?”  she asks referring to my boyfriend.

“Dunno, meditating?” Brandon is on the search for inner enlightenment.  I am on the search for the perfect shade of pink lipstick.  Shallow?

“We should learn from him,” she throws out, with no intention of actually learning from him.

“Ummhmm,”  I say.  I secretly think Sheena and I suffer from ADD.  We are unable to focus on anything for more than 10 minutes at a time.  Much less meditate for an hour. 

“Did you see that picture I sent to you?”  I ask her.

“The one you took of yourself pouting on the bed?”  she confirms, unimpressed.

“Yeh, Brandon says I look like a man in that pic!!!”  the audacity of the man.

“Well u kinda do, your cheekbones are kinda drastic,” Sheena isn’t anything if not honest.

“That’s what he said!”  I sputter.

“Well he’s right, you want me to lie to you?” 
“You guys can both fak off,” I mumble half heartedly.

“At least you didn post on facebook,” she points out helpfully.

“I guess.”

“Yeh, next time you wanna send a sexy pic to your man, run it by me first,” she adds bossily.

“Will do,” I sigh, browbeaten.

“Good, bedtime now, call you in the morning, nite,” she blows a kiss into the phone.

“Nite mama,” I flop over and look at my daughter who is beadily staring at me, thumb in mouth.

Bedtime.