And Yes, Facebook Can Still #Suckit
May 11, 2009 by 13 Comments
Crossposted at BlogHer.com
Remember this?
Back in the Fall of 2007 many in this community joined the fight against Facebook, more specifically Facebook’s ban on photos of mother’s breastfeeding their children.
We joined the protest group. We contributed to videos. We held a nurse-in. One of the main talking points throughout the campaign was the alleged inconsistencies in Facebook’s Terms of Service. They appeared to allow pro-anorexia groups, and, as many of us pointed out, hate groups.
At the time a few media outlets picked up on the bru-ha-ha. Some notable bloggers joined in. Even TechCrunch had a short piece on the uproar (with, in my opinion, some of the most immature and sexist comments I’ve ever seen against women in one single post- “chicks and their milkbags” comes to mind). And then the ruckus died down.
Until now.
It seems the Facebook TOS issue has reared it’s head in the form of the blogosphere taking note of the allowance of Holocaust Denial groups on the service.
Michael Arrington at TechCrunch writes, “Jew Haters Welcome At Facebook, As Long As They Aren’t Lactating” much to the delight and surprise of some in the mommyblogging community. Ok, much to the delight and surprise of ME.
In fact, I was so shocked by the allegiance I twittered:
“Did the boys just figure out Facebook allows hate groups? the MOMS pointed this out years ago when they wouldn’t allow bfeeding pics. lol”
Which then started a full scale discussion over on this thread at friendfeed.
Karoli ties the entire issue together citing very clearly that Facebook needs lessons in community management,
“Just amazing. It seems that on the Internet, there are still many males (I won’t call them men) who don’t have any respect for women, and have no problem demonstrating it on a daily basis.
This is bully behavior. When women are demeaned for breastfeeding or wanting to promote breastfeeding (which was the original purpose of the group) by men who fail to see the hypocrisy in Facebook’s decision matrix around these two groups, they are being marginalized and bullied. It’s wrong, but I’m not exactly sure what could be done to prevent and/or stop it.
Here’s one idea: Let’s see some of the mature, responsible members of this large universe called the Internet stand up not only against Holocaust deniers, but also for breastfeeding mothers. “
As a breastfeeding mother I want to see Facebook be consistent in the way it implements it’s TOS. As someone disgusted by Holocaust denial groups, and other hate groups, I am appalled they are allowed to remain while photos of me feeding my daughter are removed.
Now that the “other half” of the blogosphere is having this discussion in depth, will we see any movement from Facebook? Will the “tech” bloggers continue to embrace the “mommyblog” causes when it involves a social networking service?
I can’t wait to find out.
Contributing Editor Erin Kotecki Vest also blogs at Queen of Spain blog
It Won’t Last Forever
May 10, 2009 by 29 Comments
When she lays sideways against me, she usually swings her legs over my knees. They dangle. They dangle because she is tiny and even the simple act of laying across me is monumental to her. Her limbs looking so very small in relation to mine.
To me it’s heaven. Her body nestled across mine, while her brother rests his head on my shoulder. Everyone breathing in unison and calm together.
This is how we sleep from time-to-time. Not so often anymore, but often enough for me to realize it’s nearly gone.
Sometimes, when I lay on my side, she can still curl to spoon me. But her spoon involves her tiny feet against my thighs and her head in my neck. She still fits there. But barely. Just barely.
He is another story. He can’t fit there ever again. Now he wraps his arms around me like a little man, and uses one hand to pet my back, or pet my arm. He dotes in a way where before, he wanted the doting on himself.
Now when he rolls over, he’s careful to not touch my breast, instead choosing to lay a hand on my belly. This one is harder for me. More emotional of a change. Before his head would lay nowhere but my breast. Not anymore. He is embarrassed. He is aware.
It breaks my heart.
It doesn’t happen so often anymore, but when they are both at my side, sleeping with limbs strewn across mine and breathing on my arm it’s almost as if time doesn’t move, and I am at peace.
I can hear their breath.
They aren’t darting off to play, or at school, or in the yard.
It’s the one time of day I have no fear for them, or for myself. They are with me. They are safe. We are together.
This morning as I awoke with feet in my face and a sweaty head on my shoulder, I realized it was just a moment away from being gone. We are but days or months from being done with wanting to lay near Mom. Needing to lay near Mom. Able to lay near Mom.
They both barely fit any longer…not just in size.
It’s nearly gone. Time is so very short. Those tiny feet now push away instead of pushing on my thighs. That once small head now changes his mind and goes back to his own bed, full of independence and assured and able to comfort himself.
I laugh now at myself. Wanting not so long ago for them to learn to sleep in their own beds. Willing it. I needed the break, or the space, or the freedom at night. Forgetting one of the mantra’s I would tell others when they looked-down on our co-sleeping habits, “it won’t last forever.”
And here we are. Forever. And I’d like it to last just a bit longer.
Please.
Lack of Halo
May 4, 2009 by 24 Comments
And to think I nearly took a 4-year old down for hurting my daughter…
A funny thing happened on my couch last night. My daughter animatedly told my husband and I a story about her day that included a classmate…let’s call him Cody…getting in trouble for “being mean” to her.
You see as she told the story, Cody was mean. He did something…and that was as specific as it got…that made my daughter angry and she “didn’t want to play with him” anymore.
Of course I did what any mother would do. I was ready to take down Cody AND his mother. Who was this kid? Why was he “mean” and could I get him kicked out of nursery school?
Ok not really, but you know how you get when you hear your child had an encounter with anyone that was less than polite to them.
hold me back!! let me at the bastards!!
But then the story went on as I asked more questions, as I am prone to do…
So what did Cody do that was so mean?
And why didn’t you want to play with him?
And the girls didn’t want him there?
And you told him to go away?
Why did you tell him to go away?
So you don’t want to play with any boys?
Uh huh. This was a clear case of gender discrimination on the playground. Our Princess Peanut banished Cody from playing with her…because he was a boy.
There was the typical parental discussion after. We play with everyone. We’re nice to everyone. Its’ not nice to tell him he’s not allowed to play with you. blah blah blah.
And how did she take it?
She folded her arms and scowled at me like I, too, had a penis.
Clearly I did not understand the politics of a preschool playground and clearly I was a stupid mother for even suggesting she play with a boy or be NICE to a boy.
I’m going to miss this, aren’t I? The her hating boys thing? I’m going to LONG for this day again in about 10 years.
Sigh.
Probably. But what I won’t long for is the attitude she had when talking about Cody. You could hear that “mean girl” venom dripping from her words and it scared the shit out of me. I knew full well what it was like to alienate a classmate from a playground game. And yes, it was and is still MEAN.
My daughter CAN NOT be mean. It’s NOT ALLOWED. She can’t have that nasty attitude some girls seem to pick up and wield in social circles. IT MUST NOT BE.
Just as soon as the story was coming out of her, I wanted to force a change in the attitude I was witnessing.
FORCE.
But all I could do with sit there, alongside her beloved Dad, and reiterate to her how she must be kind, and include everyone, and never hurt any one’s feelings.
I don’t think she heard us. I don’t think she cared. And I’m fairly sure she went to school this week and ostracized poor Cody.
Who has a penis, by no fault of his own.
These Eyes…
May 2, 2009 by 3 Comments
I know it’s cliche’… but there really is joy in childhood. Moments where grins are full-on smiles and laughing isn’t just laughing but giggles and glee.
We took the kids to NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory this morning and came face-to-face with the many components of the Mars rovers. Yes, THOSE Mars rovers…the ones that the kids have only watched 3,000 times on the documentary that is now so worn it doesn’t play.
There were smiles, giggles, and glee.
Because Nothing Says Family Fun Like the Cops Surrounding the House
April 30, 2009 by 20 Comments
Dinner time should really be that time of day when the family winds down and shares their day. You sit at the table, tell eachother how school/work/thepark went and calmly and quietly eat and talk.
I’d recommend it NOT be the time of day when an alarm blares loud enough to actually be painful to your ears and sheriff’s deputies, with guns drawn, surround your house and peer through your windows.
I can make this recommendation speaking from experience, because my 6-year old had 3 cops cars at our house the other night...the gangsta.
Raise your hand if you have a junk drawer in your kitchen…. uh huh…I know you do. We do too. In the back of that junk drawer is a little remote control with a panic button.
As my son searched for AAA batteries for his Robot, he found the remote and, being six, pressed the red panic button.
Not the green button. Not the blue one. Not even the yellow one. No…he went straight for the red “holy fuck we’re being attacked’ panic button.
I was upstairs putting away laundry and cleaning screwing around on the computer when I heard
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
and there was much gnashing of teeth and screaming and crying and chaos.
Flying downstairs thinking the rapture was upon us I found my son screaming “make it stop! make it stop! make it stop!”while my daughter had dive-bombed herself under a blanket.
As calmly as I could I asked my son to show me exactly how this ungodly noise started in our home, realized it was the house alarm, and went to press the code to, in fact, make it stop.
It seems in the midst of the chaos the alarm company called, we failed to answer (not hearing the phone over the alarm and all) and they immediately called the police.
So while I sat the kids down and had a nice discussion with them about NOT TOUCHING shit they aren’t supposed to touch, my brother exclaims “the cops are here…they have guns…I need my ID…”
I look out my front window to see a very nice sheriff’s deputy, gun drawn, at my front window.
Um…holy shit?
This news prompts the 6-year old to panic and cry, and me to sooth him with “don’t worry you’re not in trouble, the police just want to make sure we’re safe’ tones as I open the door and apologize to the …6 (?) uniformed deputies and plain clothed detectives out front.
Yes, I am fairly certain my son will never push another button again for as long as he lives.
Yes, I am really glad the cops showed up so quickly and were not hauling us all off to jail for screwing up.
Yes, I will- if this ever happens again- try and contact my alarm company a bit faster.
Yes, I cost my city tax payer dollars because I have a messy junk drawer.
and yes, even our quiet dinner times here are never, ever, dull.
No wonder the neighbors love us so much.
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