Dear Blogoriffs,
Found Art has it's sleeper weeks, doesn't it?
That is why
Random Mother has hijacked the day with a different subject subset. That of the TECHNOLOGY and PARENTING nature of nurture today. A prelude to a conundrum she has been chewing on.
Let's start with some early and basic forms of technology: we would like to show you a never before divulged site.
The Lindenthal Family Broken Lamp Graveyard. At last amassed to bow their heads together. They can accidently remind us of the global economy. They have degrees of no healthcare coverage. Yet they have been living in a nice warm garage for years. Patiently awaiting someone's good intentions. They have very distinct political views.
A very long time ago, perhaps when motherhood was about how Spongebob cartoons never end but just morph into another episode, The Random Mother started an Essay about Media Monitoring. Well, she will never finish it - because each time she goes back to the text to edit, the technology has evolved yet again. A few months ago, I walk into our study and see that our twelve year old is video conferencing with a girl. She's waving to me sweetly, herky jerky fashion. Wow! When did I miss that transition? !!
Lately, no actually for years, the husband and I have had the growing battle of trying to get the boys to untouch their machines with screens for certain hours during our time together. Example: Time for Dinner. Time for Bed. We're seeing too how much all the different kinds of machines can add up to if you touch all of them in one day. Between I-touch and phone and computer/Facebook and TV and X-box game.
And we actually think we have high standards about how much of this stuff should be taken in by a growing boy. You might have better luck if you text the boy to come for dinner.
"when i was your age ...."
Hats off to you for scrolling down this far. We used to see children mesmerized in airports with their eyes glazed over while their fingers floated deftly over rubberized buttons on various Gameboy/ PDA type devices. We swore we'd never let our offspring go down that detrimentally hypnotized permanently plugged-in path.
Well, before you know it, you've given your children a game console as a reward for finally making honor roll. And then, right under your nose, in your very own family room, they are playing a
war game that never ends while wearing a headset and talking to their friends throughout the land
LIVE, They have game names like Chicken Pie, Warm Beans, Detrimental, and What-a-Rat. "Just let me finish this match", they say . Boys join up in lobbies where they may work together in their decimations, and getting of "kills". They love quickscoping and nosescoping while an ominous helicopter or harrier buzzrings throughout the experience.
" This is not my beautiful house" ....
Here's the thing Random Mother has noticed is a fundamental part of the disconnect: we think of their life in our home as
time, as in WOW what an amazing waste of
time. You have spent too much
time doing
that thing
instead of doing
this more productive thing. But what I see is this: to this generation,
media is just part of them, as in being or breathing or having an identity or skull cavity or working brain/ face within a social matrix. Whereas to us, the parentals, media is a thing to be regulatory about. To limit. That you turn ON and
OFF!
GOOD LUCK WITH THAT !!
And see? Well, what is the Random Mother doing right now herself? She is sneaking a blog entry in.
"Who's on first?" and "What's a mother to do?"
Not nothing .... and yet over regulation only makes the heart grow insaner.
... to be continued ...
