I was getting ready for bath time tonight and scanning Facebook on my iPhone. Baby Noah was enjoying some naked time and Will was transfixed by the television.
I got sucked into the 'Dear mom on the iPhone' blog wars. It started with this piece from a mom who cautioned mothers they are missing important moments in their children's lives while staring at their phones.
Dear mom on the iPhone,
I see you over there on the bench, messing on your iPhone. It feels good to relax a little while your kids have fun in the sunshine, doesn't it? You are doing a great job with your kids: You work hard, you teach them manners, have them do their chores.
But Momma, let me tell you what you don't see right now ...
Your little girl is spinning round and round, making her dress twirl. She is such a little beauty queen already, the sun shining behind her long hair. She keeps glancing your way to see if you are watching her.
Cue the don't judge me backlash. Numerous blogs popped up explaining why moms shouldn't feel guilty for surfing the web or texting while their children play and arguing the devices make them better moms.
From Scary Mommy:
Well, I am that mother at the park on her iPhone, thank you very much. I’m the one who gets scowled at and pointed to and written about. Sometimes it’s the park, others it’s an indoor playzone or maybe it’s a birthday party. If I’m out with my kids, and they are entertained, it’s not uncommon that my iPhone is entertaining me. But that fact doesn’t make me a bad mom. In fact, I’d argue that it helps make me a better one.
Checking in on Twitter or Facebook allows me to collect myself and maintain a sense of humor about things that might otherwise set me off. It’s kind of the social media immersed mother’s version of a long drag on a cigarette. It helps ground me and gain perspective. The permanent marker covered Evan a few years ago would have been far more upsetting than amusing were it not for the ensuing hilarity in Facebook comments. Having my friends and community a simple click away is a much needed break at the very least, and a near lifesaver at the most.
I was engrossed in the discussion when I glanced up to see Noah eating something off the floor. "Oh God, please no," I moaned in horror as I realized what was happening. Yup, he pooped. And he was playing in it. And putting his fingers in his mouth.
Gagging followed. On my part.
So let that be the lesson Dear mom on the iPhone. You're not just missing your kid twirling on a swing. Your baby also just crapped on the carpet and ate it.