Where are the friends with the untidy bedrooms, the dishes still in the sink, the supermarket-bought cakes, the children tantrumming in the corner while they turn the music up loud to drown out the noise?
Social media. The reason many a mother is to be found sneaking a sip of gin in her walk-in closet by 4pm... or is that just me?
When the likes of twit-my-face first hit the mainstream, I admit to happily signing up and "networking". As the years passed, I have added many a "friend" to my social network. Another class parent? Awesome, look me up on Twitter and follow me. We hang out in the same coffee shop? Great, find me on Facebook and add me. Please.
Soon it became a new form of popularity contest - how many friends do you have? I was transported back to the playground where games were two-ers or three-ers and the fourth person was left on the sidelines mournfully holding one half of a skipping rope with no-one to play with.
The friending competition was only the first part of this, though. Little did I know there was a far worse competition hiding in the wings. Status updates.
These inventions of the devil seem innocent enough. Log on and there you have one. "Spent a fabulous day making cupcakes with the three year old", boasts the first mother. The next one soon posts a picture of her fabulous day, during which she constructed a life-size model of the Titanic out of milk bottles and hair ties. Scroll down a bit more and mother three is there with her Instasmug pictures of yet another fabulous day out in the park picnicking with her children, complete with red-and-white check rug, crustless sandwiches and hand-made organic cookies.
If my Fakebook friends are to be believed, they all spend every day and evening happily playing tea parties, building amazing models, baking perfect cakes and generally living picture-perfect lives.
Where are the friends with the untidy bedrooms, the dishes still in the sink, the supermarket-bought cakes, the children tantruming in the corner while they turn the music up loud to drown out the noise?
I know these people exist. I happily admit to doing all of the above myself at times. Yet, when it comes to status updates, do I admit this? Do I photograph the dirty dishes, the burnt dinner, the tantruming child? No. I instead carefully pose the pictures to show the happy child in dress up, cropped to leave out the brother who is busily decapitating her doll in the background. I don't update the world with "survived another day without any (major) bloodshed". I type "fabulous fun watching Johnny and Betty re-enact the Battle of Britain. So nice to see siblings with a strong sense of realism in their play".
Then I hit enter, close the laptop screen and walk away to my walk-in-closet, clutching my gin.
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