Who needs a room when you have the whole internet?
Husband B and I had a difference of opinion regarding the computer today. His entire argument was based around the fact that he thinks I spend too much time on it. My reasoned response was that, no, I do not. You can see how fruitful and grown-up this conversation turned out to be, can’t you?
To cool off from our calm and considered discussion, I turned to Twitter, where I found a link to a journalist in the UK who believes that Mummy Bloggers spend way too much time on the internet when they should be with their children. I am not a blogger. You can see by how regularly we manage to put something up here that I could not give myself that title. But I took offence on behalf of all women, stuck at home with little children either by choice or providence.
I don’t mind saying that the internet has saved my life on more than one occasion. And possibly my children’s on several. If you’ve never stayed home all day every day with small people, you have NO idea how very, very long such days can be. You will never understand how it is possible to actually feel your brain turning to mush. And you will never get that, really, there is only SO much craft that one mother can cope with in any 24 hour period. Yes, children watch television sometimes. As far as I’m aware, that’s not illegal (not yet anyway… given the way things are going, I give it ten years or so).
I wrote in our book about how one of the first things I missed about having children was a space of my own. Give birth and suddenly everything you hold dear, including your breasts, is shared property. It’s like a commune gone horribly wrong. I could have carved out a room of my own within our family home, but I knew that I’d never have time to go there.
The internet on the other hand is always there. Always open. Always friendly. There are blogs and Twitter and Facebook and countless other places where people gather. People. Grown-up, adult people who will debate politics with you if you want or make wisecracks about reality TV shows if that’s all you’re capable of doing at the time. You can pop in for five minutes and emerge refreshed, ready to face another round of pipecleaners and cardboard. It is my space. A place where noone in the household can follow me, and where I can be myself.
Who needs a room when you have a whole internet to immerse yourself in? And who would deny any mother that?
Do you spend too much time on the internet?