It has been said that having children is narcissistic. Having little versions of yourself running about like tiny, innocent mirrors. We try and brainwash them with hopes and dreams of becoming President, because they got in trouble at school for being bossy. “He’s a leader!” we exclaim. We see them singing along to a song in the back of the car, we then believe she will be the next Beyonce. They grab a pair of scissors and try and cut the cat’s tail off, and all of the sudden you think the child is destined to become a plastic surgeon. To your surprise, ten years later, the kid is actually the poster-child for the “No kid left Behind” program or some other program that forces teachers to pay a whole lot more attention to the kids that don’t listen in class.
Personally, I think it’s fantastic for a parent to have dreams for their children. If we don’t, who will? Seriously, I am all for putting a positive spin on your child’s life. Raising them with good Christian values and drilling in them the balance of studies first and fun later. I also support an occasional shout out when your child does something great like winning a the science fair or becoming class prez. That’s wonderful, really. What gets on my nerves are obnoxious parents that want everyone else involved in their child’s life. Sending picture after picture to my email about their first steps, their first bite, their first tantrum, their first poop. I don’t really care about when their tooth comes in. That is something only the parents of the child care about, and may be grandparents that have figured out how to use the internet properly. Cousins, distant relatives and friends don’t need a Facebook update every time your child burps the alphabet.
I have seen it time and time again, when a new parent begins to bombard everyone with daily updates on their brat. Do I not have a life? Hey, I popped out two kids, too. I don’t need a cookie and you don’t need to be reminded every ten minutes that my husband and I might do more than just watch movies on Saturday nights. I just don’t think anyone besides my mother or in-laws would really care to be interested in all of the droll details our children’s lives.
I understand you are proud. May be it was a hard conception. May be an immaculate conception. I understand that children are the future, teach them well and yada yada. I just don’t understand why I have to endure boring home videos and countless iPhone downloads of your kid, Miss Co-worker or Mrs. Stranger-in-the-Long-Line-At-Whole Foods. One or two times is okay, even better if the request was on demand, meaning they are not unsolicited. Not okay every time you invite me over, we go out or chat at the water cooler. Am I the only person against FPH (Forced Picture Harassment)? I’d bet anything somewhere out in cyberspace, there are tons of single people that are cheering me on because I have finally stood up for your right to not have to look at other people’s boring family lives.
Let me stress again, I am a mother. My husband is a father. We have kids. It’s a part of life. I love that part. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but an incentive for taking on this mom as a full time friend: No FPH! In the kind of-sort of words of the older George Bush, “READ MY BLOG! NO MORE FPH!”
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