My father sent me a friend request on Facebook today. This completely freaks me out. I accepted it because I thought it would be weird if I didn't...but...my mother and I aren't connected on there, and my other relatives either don't have Facebook profiles or rarely check them. I don't think my father will be on there very much - from what I can tell he has very limited Internet access, being in the outback of Brazil (they call it the Interior). And I'm sure he just wants to see the Bumpus pics and videos and is a little curious about me, too (we haven't seen each other in person since 1980). But. I don't know why, but I feel like my private space has been invaded. As if Facebook, or this blog, is in any way private! Privacy has gone the way of phone books. It's something we'll tell our children about, because it sure won't exist for them and barely exists for us.
My father's profile has no pictures and only about ten friends - mostly fellow ranchers in southern Brazil - and a couple of young women hottie types that completely grossed me out. There are a few things I want to know about my father, but many I don't. And his love life is something I do not want to know about!
Today as I was doing my Silverlake walk the thought popped into my head that when my mother was my age she had a 20 year old and a 10 year old. At her age I have a one year old. When I was born AI for single people was pretty much unheard of; abortion was still illegal, and the pill was still relatively new. What a different world, huh? My mother never would have been a candidate for single motherhood by choice, however. Like so many children even today, my sister and I were just side effects of the main show, which was her pursuit of male attention.
It's still totally bizarre to me that I am a mother of an infant at 40. And that some of my same aged friends are also just starting to have babies now. So when our kids graduate college we'll be just shy of being senior citizens!
Not a day goes by that I don't think about what's on TV, what music we listen to, what's going on in the world, and think this is what my son's culture will be - this is his childhood, this is what was going on in the world when he was born. He's going to think about our furniture, his little outfits, our car, our house, with the same odd sentimentality I do my childhood objects and surroundings. It's just too weird!
For a while, at least, he'll think I'm superwoman, the way I thought my mother was superwoman. She was the smartest, wisest, funniest, hippest person in the world. But boy, oh boy did she have her demons. And I have mine, of course, but so far I've managed to not let them keep me from expressing my love for him. I figure if I can at least do that, I've done a lot.
My father's profile has no pictures and only about ten friends - mostly fellow ranchers in southern Brazil - and a couple of young women hottie types that completely grossed me out. There are a few things I want to know about my father, but many I don't. And his love life is something I do not want to know about!
Today as I was doing my Silverlake walk the thought popped into my head that when my mother was my age she had a 20 year old and a 10 year old. At her age I have a one year old. When I was born AI for single people was pretty much unheard of; abortion was still illegal, and the pill was still relatively new. What a different world, huh? My mother never would have been a candidate for single motherhood by choice, however. Like so many children even today, my sister and I were just side effects of the main show, which was her pursuit of male attention.
It's still totally bizarre to me that I am a mother of an infant at 40. And that some of my same aged friends are also just starting to have babies now. So when our kids graduate college we'll be just shy of being senior citizens!
Not a day goes by that I don't think about what's on TV, what music we listen to, what's going on in the world, and think this is what my son's culture will be - this is his childhood, this is what was going on in the world when he was born. He's going to think about our furniture, his little outfits, our car, our house, with the same odd sentimentality I do my childhood objects and surroundings. It's just too weird!
For a while, at least, he'll think I'm superwoman, the way I thought my mother was superwoman. She was the smartest, wisest, funniest, hippest person in the world. But boy, oh boy did she have her demons. And I have mine, of course, but so far I've managed to not let them keep me from expressing my love for him. I figure if I can at least do that, I've done a lot.
Well said, I too think about things today & imagine Elena reminising about them when she's my age. I love being Elena's superwoman right now, even if she gets made when I can't fix things that are completely broken!
ReplyDeleteI often have the "when my mom was my age" thoughts. At my age my mom had been married for 21 years. She had 6 kids, the oldest in college the youngest in kindergarten. She was undergoing treatment for cancer, while running a daycare and carrying a 4.0 in evening college classes. By comparison I feel like an immature wimp. I also remember her making comments about feeling like an "old" mom. Her youngest was born when she was 35. Thirty-five almost seems average to me now. I bet she never imagined I'd have my first at 39.
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting thought, that our kids will think of their childhood things with the same sentimentality that we do. Somehow, that hadn't really occured to me. At the same time, though, I have thought about how I'd like to move soon to our "forever house", before Jordyn is old enough to have memories of our current one. And... we all have our demons. All we can do is our best to deal with them while not letting them affect our mothering abilities.
ReplyDelete