A new web-based army of parental advisers and critics is baffling.
Shortly after the birth of our first child, my husband came home from work to find me weeping in the kitchen. “I haven’t even had time to make myself a cup of tea,” I sobbed.
He looked at me with the But-What-Have-You-Been-Doing-All-Day? incredulity that only those who have never been enslaved by a two-week-old dictator can possess.
So the news that the website Netmums has signed up some 550 “elite” maternal bloggers since July, bloggers who have already produced some 7,000 posts on parenting, while finding the time to, you know, actually do some, filled me with awe.
The parenting website is a modern phenomenon. I’d never heard of Netmums, the “quieter” version of its better-known sister, Mumsnet, but apparently it attracts more than four million web visits a month from those seeking advice and parenting tips.
To enter these websites is to lose yourself in discussions from “Biting Again” to “Victoria Beckham’s Baby Name” and “Am I Being Unreasonable” (judging by what I read – yes, frankly). There is no child-related policy, no retailer deal, no marital misdemeanour too minor to be discussed.
In an age where all three party leaders have young children, it’s no surprise that we should be deluged with online advice on how to raise them. Childhood has never been more politicised – or its caretakers more judged.
So anywhere that provides advice on what to do after you are handed a tiny baby and told to go away and turn it into a happy, productive adult is a valuable resource.
But these websites are not just offering benign advice. At times, they feel like an online version of the dreaded school gates. Parenting choices are a minefield, and internet anonymity makes people astonishingly judgmental.
Between potty training and co-sleeping tips, you don’t have to look far to find fierce arguments, or even users making each other cry. I know at least one mother who visibly shudders at the mention of Mumsnet, having found herself on the wrong end of online maternal vitriol.
But where do these mothers find the time? I used to fantasise about what I could achieve if only the baby would sleep for more than 15 minutes (load a washing machine and eat digestive biscuits, it turns out).
Even now, the hours that are mine while the children are at school evaporate daily under the weight of washing, dog walking and replacement lunchboxes. And that’s without earning a wage. How do you dispense 500 words of sage advice on recovering your pelvic floor into that lot?
Early-years parenting is a lonely business. If these websites had been around when my firstborn arrived, I suspect I would have spent more time online than parenting (or walking my pram round the park trying to engage friendly-looking strangers in conversation).
But read them for long and it’s hard not to imagine your average user glued to her screen, posting tips or criticisms, while her own child sits ignored in front of CBeebies. Yes, they offer support and community, but they also soak up the one resource most mothers have in shortest supply: time.
So good luck with your blogs, all you Mumsnetters and Netmums. I’ll support your campaigns, and rejoice in the sight of politicians taking women seriously, but if I’m going to have my children’s bedtimes or fruit intake pulled apart, I prefer it to be people I know.
Source: Telegraph.co.uk – http://goo.gl/38BDE
