Sunday, June 19, 2011

Privacy is for the birds.

I am completely overwhelmed by the number of readers I have.  Man.  You guys must be really bored to read my drivel.  Heh.  No, honestly, I'm flattered.  The thing is, these thoughts are always in my brain.  So to me, they're old, tired opinions.  But I forget that I don't share them out loud very often, so to you it's not old.  And I'm grateful for your audience.

So...the teenager is on Facebook.  And honestly, I want to hide this place from him.  I adore him, and someday, he can know everything I think and feel about parenting him.  But right now, at fourteen years old...please God, no.  Not yet.  Our relationship needs to be strong.  He needs to think that I'm strong and unwavering because that equals security. 

I can never remember my mother being weak.  Ever.  She's told me as an adult that she had her moments. That she thought we'd always remember her laying on the couch because she was always so tired (and often pregnant!).  I don't remember that.  The only times I remember her laying on the couch is when we played "barber shop."  And I LOVE that.  I love that my parents were a portrait of strength and security.  And although they were fallible, I didn't know it.  I want that for Cole, too.

Aaaand, while I'm on the subject, just so you know, I hesistated accepting Cole's friend request.  (Shhh...don't tell him that either).  I teased him for a few weeks about him friending everyone but me, but I didn't really mean it.  I want to be his friend, but I don't want him to be mine.  It's like having your teenager in your living room in the middle of all your adult conversations.  Annoying. 

So, mum's the word.  I'll keep on keeping on and when I post a link from this blog to Facebook, I'll hide it from him.  I thank you, dear readers, for helping keep my secret.

Besides, I'm probably flattering myself.  I'm guessing he thinks I'm old, and boring.  And could give a rip about my thoughts or opinions or my blog.  And if that helps keep him away from here, super.  Although someone should probably let him know how young, and hip I am.  What UP, Johnny?!

Thanks for working through that little dilemma with me!


Brita said...

Love your thoughts on this. My oldest, Matt, is 14. I get it.

elizabeth said...

For what it's worth, I wish my parents had shared moments of weakness. It would have helped when I was young in many ways (in teaching moments, in knowing that we all struggle in similar ways ..) and made it more ok that I am weak rather than thinking that weakness was unacceptable and not everyone struggles with it and that when I grew up, I'd have it all figured out like I thought they (and everyone else) did. :)

MindiJo said...

What up, Leanne? You ARE cool, just like me. :D
I love this. And it's true. Kids should think you know everything. They don't need to know we don't have the answers, just like they don't need to know about adult issues. You are a good mama. Just so you know.

Anonymous said...

I ran across this comment in the Saracastic Lutheran blog ( right after reading this entry of yours, and it so effectively articulated my reaction to your desire to be strong for your son.

"...if you really want to witness the handiwork of the Spirit, just watch how God will use your failures. Just wait till you glimpse the masterful redemption that springs forth when you ask forgiveness for having been a total ass, just watch how grace will rush in to fill the spaces of your shortcomings.

God reaches again and again into the graves we dig ourselves, continues to reach into our failures and yank out new life: just as God brought forth the universe from nothingness and water from a rock and babies from barren wombs and a church from a bunch of forgiven sinners. So don’t be afraid of your deficits, but rejoice in the spaces where you have nothing to offer, for this is the very canvas on which God’s best work is shown forth…just wait. I promise you this."

I respectfully submit that our children learn just as much from our failures and weaknesses as they do from our strengths. They learn how to recover from mistakes, how to keep their heads high despite falling low, how to humbly acknowledge their limitations, how to graciously seek and accept forgiveness and help, and most importantly, how God works as much--if not more--with our weaknesses as he does with our strengths. Judicious sharing of our weaknesses and failures can be as loving a gift to our children as our strength can be.

Having said that, I respect your desire to keep your blog private from your child. What one shares with friends is different than what one shares with one's children.

Leslie G. said...