Monday, October 23, 2017

Face to Face

Lately, I've been pondering my relationship with Facebook.

At first, Facebook seems like an introvert's dream.  I can keep up with my friends without having to talk to them on the phone. Facebook and smartphones were made for people like me.

Sometimes, however, it seems like Facebook causes more problems than it's worth. 

People have different expectations of Facebook interactions.  Some people use it to promote their small business; others use it to share photos of their adorable offspring or of their teenagers rolling their eyes on the first day of school.  Sometimes people sign up for Facebook with an expectation that it will be a great way to discuss deep philosophical issues with a wider audience, or that it will be like meeting up with friends at the local coffee shop for lively discussion without actually having to put on socially appropriate garments and leaving the house.  Some people sign up for an account to spy on their teenagers and then find out that teenagers don't really seem to use Facebook, so they never log in.  Some people use it as a platform to express their political views.  Many people probably use it for some combination of most of the above.

The Mom of No uses Facebook to post great nature photos taken at her local nature preserve, the occasional snarky commentary on current political issues, and as a resource to remember things like where the local breakfast club is meeting.  I feel like I should warn people when they send me a friend request: I post a lot of snake photos (and other weird nature stuff), and I have a really weird sense of humor.  Proceed at your own risk.

Often, Facebook seems like one big giant 21st century etiquette minefield.  What is the appropriate rule for friending certain people, like your new boss or your child's teacher? If someone starts annoying you on a regular basis, should you unfollow them or unfriend them?  If you unfollow them, what should you say when, several weeks later, they ask if you saw something they posted on their page? How should you act when someone unfriends you and then you see them a week later?  If someone takes a screen shot of a conversation you've had with them on Messenger and posts it for public consumption, what is the best way to handle that?  Facebook etiquette goes way beyond the "Say please and thank you and write thank you notes" that I learned as a kid.

And the potential for misunderstandings- that's bigger than the Son of Never Stops Eating's appetite right after an hour-long swim practice.

I like using Facebook.  I'm definitely not considering giving it up entirely.   Lately, however, I've started to feel like the care and feeding of my Facebook life is taking over my real life, and I'm not quite sure how to proceed.  Facebook seems to be so embedded in 21st century American life that, although I know there are people who survive (probably quite well) without any social media accounts, I don't think I could do it.  I like seeing people post about books they've read, or their cool nature finds, or videos of the marching band show.  I am good friends with people I might not have met if I had not been on Facebook.

Sometimes, however, it's hard to walk away from something on Facebook that would probably be better off left alone. I have spent hours mulling over a controversial or pot-stirring post, mentally composing a great response in my head (and those responses always sounds better in my head than it reads when typed out).  In the last few months, I've started getting a strong feeling that this is probably time that would be better spent doing other things.  Perhaps it's because I'm about to have a birthday and, as happens every year, I'm in somewhat of a funk about what I'm doing with my life and wondering if I've somehow missed accomplishing some big thing because of all the time I've spent on Facebook.

So, I've decided to make a conscious effort to spend less time online and more time doing other things, like reading more books, or trying to learn how to use the camera I got a year ago instead of just using the auto function for everything, or actually talking to people.  Yesterday, I spent some time trying out a ginger cookie recipe I saw in a magazine.  That is a whole other story for another day, but I will say that when I looked at the cookie photo, I thought I was going to be getting a big cookie and what I got was the size of a quarter. Instead of eating one cookie (okay, two) I have to eat five (okay, ten).

I'll still be on Facebook, however, just not as much.  Someone has to post great photographs of snakes found during nature hikes.  You never know, there might be a cookie review or two to share at some point. I am the Mom of Cookies Should be Bigger Than A Quarter.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Home Alone

This past weekend, I was faced with a situation I have rarely encountered since becoming a mom seventeen years ago.  The Son of Never Stops Eating and the Dad of No were going to the state Special Olympics swim meet, and the Teenager was going to a band competition that was being held several hours away. 

I was going to be home by myself.

This hardly ever happens to me.  Several years ago, the Dad of No decided to take the kids to visit his parents, who lived in another state at the time, and I was going to be home alone for three entire days.  The morning after they left, I ended up in the ER with abdominal pain which required the removal of my gallbladder to resolve. Instead of being home by myself for three days of introvert heaven, I ended up in the hospital. That was not what I had planned at all.

Also, it turned out the anesthesiologist didn't accept my insurance. That's a whole other story.

This time, I told myself, no hospital.  I was going to enjoy the quiet solitude. No one would be complaining about how there wasn't any chocolate milk in the refrigerator, or asking me if I wanted to watch Simpsons videos on the iPad.  I could read a book, work on my iNaturalist observations, and eat what I wanted when I wanted. I could go to the grocery store without ravenous teenagers lobbying for snacks with no actual nutritional value. I was going to get a small taste of what being an empty nester is going to be like.  It was going to be awesome.

My first home alone project was to declutter the teenagers' rooms.  This project required me to confront the reality that both of my kids have hoarder tendencies.  One has enough Legos to stock a large toy store, and the other has enough books to open up her own library.  This creates an interesting parental dilemma- it seems wrong to say that your kid has too many books. You can never have too many books, except perhaps when you have a small house with minimal shelving space. 

I have no idea what she plans to do with these books when she goes off to college, but, after years of encouraging good reading habits, I just don't think I can utter the words "Stop buying books!". Yes, I know, an e-reader would be the perfect solution, but there's just something wonderful about hard-copy books that a digital reader can't duplicate.  I think I'm just going to have to accept that there are going to be piles of books in that room for awhile.

I also realized that I wasn't the only one in the house that was used to having other people around.  The dog started giving me baleful looks, and then I realized that she wanted her walks.  That's usually the Son of Never Stops Eating's job, but he wasn't there.  Every time I looked at that mutt, she'd look back at me with that expression that says "I am NOT getting enough attention here! Step it up!".

That dog sulked the entire weekend. Clearly, even though she was getting her walks, I was not providing the high level of service that she is used to.  Every now and then she'd look over at the garage door, expecting her real attention-giver to walk through the door at any minute to rectify the horrible situation she found herself in. I was, evidently, a poor substitute. 

At least the hamster seemed okay with the situation.

It was really quiet.  It was too quiet. I started to miss my family. 

Actually, that's not entirely true. I was really enjoying the quiet.  I was getting periodic updates from the Dad of No on the Son of Never Stops Eating's swimming successes. I was following the band on Facebook and e-mail updates. I felt like I was still in the loop while reaping all the benefits of solitude.  But the house was making weird sounds, and the dog was being judgmental about my dog-walking skills, and the dishwasher wasn't emptying itself.  Finally, the Teenager came home from her band trip, and I was no longer alone. 

I'm not sure I'm ready for empty-nesting just yet; the family mutt clearly isn't.  But I did the grocery shopping three days ago and we still have food, so the weekend did have some benefits.

Sunday, October 8, 2017

Speaking Up

A few weeks ago, the Son of Never Stops Eating started complaining about the sidewalks around our house.  He'd tripped on the pavement while walking the family mutt.  He came home and pointed out his skinned knee and indignantly informed the Dad of No and I that someone needed to fix the sidewalks because it was hard to ride his scooter and walk the dog.

Don't complain to me, I told him.  I'm your mother, not the sidewalk repair fairy.  You need to complain to the city.  They're the ones responsible for repairing sidewalks.

How do I do that?  he asked me.  I suppose I could have done it for him via e-mail, but at that moment I realized that I was being presented with a valuable Mom Teaching Opportunity.

It's interesting to ask people what personal skills or qualities they think are most important for children to learn.  Often, people will say kindness, resilience, independence, inclusion, how to stand up to bullying, or how to handle adversity.  All of these are good and important. As a parent of a young man with a developmental disability, I think one of the most essential skills I need to teach him is self-advocacy.  It's important for all kids to learn this, but it's especially important for my son to learn how to speak up for himself, especially as he approaches adulthood. One day his mother won't be around to watch out for him, and he'll need to make his needs and wants known in a world that isn't always willing to listen.

I suggested to him that he go to the next City Council meeting and tell them about the sidewalks. Public speaking is something that makes a lot of people nervous, so I expected him to turn my suggestion down flat.  But he surprised me by expressing a desire to do exactly that.

OK, I told him. You'll need to work on a speech.  You only have a few minutes so you have to get to the point. You can't ramble or talk about Legos or The Simpsons, and you have to make sure you wear a clean shirt.

I know what to do, Mom! You don't have to tell me everything! he told me, in his best exasperated adolescent voice.  I even got an eye roll.

I thought he'd probably forget about my suggestion, but when I reminded him a few weeks later that the council meeting was coming up, it turned out that he'd been practicing at school and that he had a speech all prepared, which he recited for me.  He was really serious about his sidewalk cause.

Do you think there will be a lot of people there?  he asked me. I told him I didn't know, and asked him if a crowd would make him not want to speak.  No, he told me.  I still want to do it.  Even if there are a lot of people.

We went to the meeting, filled out a speaker card, and he waited patiently for his turn as we watched our city government at work.  When his name was called, he went up to the podium, said what he'd come to say, and sat back down.  A city employee came over and talked to us about the area of concern.  I asked the Son of Never Stops Eating how he felt now that his speech was finished, and he told me he felt like he'd done a good job and that he was happy it was over.

I was full of Mom Pride.  I recalled to myself that when he was a toddler, he barely spoke.  It wasn't until after he started public preschool and began getting speech therapy that he began to talk.  Now here he was, several years later, voluntarily speaking in public to a room full of people about something he was concerned about.  He was learning that he has the right to speak up for himself, and to have his concerns heard. It was a very important learning experience for him.

I actually suspect he might have enjoyed it just a bit.  I wouldn't be completely surprised if he decides to take up another cause dear to his heart: more Legos for the library, a 24 hour Simpsons cartoon watching marathon in the town plaza, or a later start to the school day so that he can sleep in.  Watch out, world- here he comes.

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Looking Younger Every Day

Last week was not the best week for the Mom of No- it could have been worse, of course, but it was not a sparkling diamond in the crown of 2017.  For the first four days of the week, I was home sick with some nasty respiratory crud which resulted in a horrible cough that could probably be heard for miles around my abode.   Finally, last Thursday, I felt well enough to venture from home and go to work.

As I sat at the kitchen table, eating my usual toasted raisin and cinnamon English muffin for breakfast, I felt something crunchy moving around in my mouth.  That's odd, I thought; these muffins are usually rather soft.  Maybe part of the crust was a little extra-toasted.  My brain still wasn't functioning at its optimal speed, so it took a few seconds for the message to get from my tongue to my brain: that crunchy bit wasn't English muffin.  That was part of a lower front tooth.

Awww, crap, I thought.  Just what I need.

I was informed by the dentist's office that they had an available appointment at 3 PM, which I gladly took.  My brain was working rapidly on producing extreme dental scenarios in which the rest of the tooth broke off at some point before dental rescue could take place, initiating much uncomfortable and expensive dental work. As far as I was concerned-and I am no fan of going to the dentist- 3 PM couldn't come fast enough.

Finally, after a day of obsessing over the hole in my tooth, I was in the dental chair being prepped by the assistant. While we were talking, a young man walked in, greeted me, said he'd be back in a minute, and walked out.

Who's that? I asked the dental assistant, thinking to myself that whoever that young man is, he looks like he's in high school. 

That's the new dentist, she said. He's going to come back in a minute and look at your tooth.

I was taught as a kid that it is rude to ask about how old people are, but I really had to know, and the Grandma of No wasn't around to give me a Mom Look.  I turned around and looked at the assistant and asked her.  I think he's 28, she said.  He really does look young.

Yes.  I am old enough to be my dentist's mother.  Even more than having a daughter about to graduate from high school or a son who is six inches taller than I am, that makes me feel like I am getting old.  The entire time he was working on my poor busted front tooth, my brain abandoned the "worst case dental scenario" thought process and started working on "This guy is a dentist and he is young enough to be your son and that is really giving me some angst". 

I probably need to start getting used to it, because sometimes the new employees at work look really young to me, and then I find out that they were born two years after I graduated from college and I'll think, hey, young whippersnapper, I've been working longer than you've been alive.  Or I'll say something about the Soviet Union, or that a certain 80's song was the theme of my high school class, or that I had to type college papers on a typewriter, and I start suspecting that the other person, who was probably born after I got my first e-mail address, is thinking, wow, this woman is practically ancient history.

The Son of Never Stops Eating, who is currently obsessed with The Simpsons, asked me several months ago if I had ever seen The Simpsons.  Sure, I told him.  I used to watch that show when I was in college.

Wow, Mom, he said, sounding impressed and awed.  You're older than Homer Simpson!

Yes.  I'm older than Homer Simpson,  I remember life before the Internet, and I'm old enough to be my dentist's mother, but hopefully I still got a lot of good years left in me.