FaceBook, FaceBook, how I love-hate thee

'Fasting' from FaceBook during Lent was... Interesting.  If you want to know why I tried to stop using FaceBook during Lent then you can read my previous post here.

So, how did it go? Was it worth it? Did I learn anything? Did anything in my life change? Well, it was a mixture of nightmare and freedom all rolled in to one.  I think that I've learnt five main lessons from my 'FaceBook fast':

• Fasting from FaceBook is hard.  Really hard.

There's something addictive about FaceBook.  I think that I can have a quick peek to keep up with the  news of my loved ones.  The reality is that it takes about an hour a day to catch up with my Newsfeed (yes, I have timed it).  Also, more shamefully, my motivation for reading lots of the status updates is probably more akin to gossip than genuine concern.  I thought it would be relatively easy to switch off from FaceBook but it left a void that was hard to resist the temptation of filling.  I thought that if I could use FaceBook less than I had cracked the issue.  What actually happened was that a quick peek to 'keep up' wasn't enough and I found myself spending more time having a quick peek than I had imagined.  I'm not convinced that it is the ability to be 'connected' with other people that is the addictive quality of FaceBook.  Even as someone who struggles when I don't spend enough time with other people, FaceBook is no substitute for face-to-face time.  I'm not entirely sure what it is that makes FaceBook addictive but I do know that the more time I spend on FaceBook, the more often I check it.

• FaceBook is more about ego than I care to admit.

I don't worry about how many 'likes' my posts get.  But I have realised that I do like to talk about me and my life quite a lot! I don't think that FaceBook is an easy place to remain humble.  It is a snapshot of life that we choose to present.  It's not very often that I see a post that admits to fault, failure or even normality.  We use FaceBook as our own personal platform to declare our priorities to the world.  Even when we just post cute baby photos, they are the cute ones, not the outtakes.  Why? Because we care what people think about us.  Why is that a problem? Because egos are fragile.  They get hurt.  Life isn't about me and I'm not sure that my FaceBook statuses ever reflect that.

• FaceBook over-use is not a symptom of an unhappy life.

It is, however, a cause of an unhappy life.  For me it is, anyway.  Let me explain.  I thought that I used FaceBook as a means of escapism from the Ground Hog Day nature of my life as a stay-at-home mum.  It turns out that I was wrong.  My life isn't boring and I don't feel like escaping from it when I actually engage with it and am present in my life.  I can cope with my life when I face it.  It's not something that I need or want to run away from.  Spending copious amounts of time on FaceBook, even in regular small amounts, transports me from the here and now to an electronic connection with other people's egos.  Even sending a personal text is more rewarding than putting a public announcement on FaceBook.

• 40 days was not long enough.

It turns out that I'm not Jesus.  Who knew?! Whilst 40 days in the wilderness was long enough to prepare Jesus for his public ministry and for Jesus to crack resisting temptation, it hasn't been long enough for me.  I'm still working through some of the stuff that Lent has thrown up.  I'm not sure when or if I will return to FaceBook in the way that I was using it before.  At the moment I'm trying to make sure that God has the loudest voice in my life and that I spend more time listening to him than anything else.  That has to include FaceBook.

• There's nothing wrong with using FaceBook.

The problem is not using FaceBook per se.  The problem is when FaceBook uses you.  I know many people who don't struggle with using FaceBook and they don't have any issues with the way in which it connects them to the world.  Maybe they restrict their friends list to genuine friends rather than acquaintances? Maybe they have more time on their hands? Maybe they post about different things? Maybe they still manage to keep up with real life one-to-one connections and maintaining the public platform that is FaceBook? I don't know.

For the moment, I'm not officially off FaceBook but I'm not exactly on it either.  I'm still working out how to use FaceBook without it using me.  I'm not convinced that there is a set formula to follow.  What I do know is that life is much better when I engage with it.  I'm off to post some snail-mail...

Dear God, could you make my body a little more awesome?

I'm going to let you in on a little secret... that reasonably flat stomach that I have that gets lots of comments about being amazing for a mother of five... I'm sucking it in.  All. The. Time.  My (seemingly permanently) separated stomach muscles leave me in fear of my entire abdominal contents spilling out to never again find their proper place inside me.

Before having babies, my dress size was in single figures and I could get away without wearing a bra if I really wanted to (although, as I recall, I didn't take that opportunity up while I still had the chance).  Now? Well, there is this moment in the film Big Hero 6 when Baymax deflates a bit and has this saggy sort of appearance that wobbles when he walks:



That, folks, is my postnatal body.  Having stretched my abdomen out to beyond a reasonable limit five times now, my stretch marks look like a map of the London Underground and the excess skin that I have from carrying a 9lb13oz baby is never going to snap back.

Some people are all warm and fuzzy about their postnatal bodies, calling their stretchmarks the 'badge of honour of motherhood'.  I call it irritating.

So, I was wondering, just how bad is it to want to change my postnatal body?

Where I used to work, we would regularly have visiting plastic surgeons come to perform the most complex facial surgery.  One of them mainly performed breast reconstruction following mastectomy for breast cancer when he wasn't helping us out.  One day I was chatting with him and joked that I would quite like a 'mummy lift' when I stopped having children.  Apparently it is A Thing.  A list celebrities genuinely do pay for a postnatal tummy tuck and the redundant tissue is then used to perk up postnatal breasts.  Part of me is quite tempted... The rest of me feels guilty for being tempted.  I'm fairly certain that plastic surgery for purely cosmetic (ie vanity) reasons is frowned upon within Christian circles.  I could argue that I'm just wanting to restore my body to how God had made it.  But that seems a bit ridiculous when God made my body capable of bearing children.  I'm not convinced that God would consider stretchmarks or a bit of postnatal sag to be a design flaw.

I know the Bible tells me that I am "fearfully and wonderfully made" and I can marvel at my body for a while when I consider how my skin protects me from infection or my body uses multiple organs to turn food into energy.  But after that moment of wonder, I'm not entirely awestruck by my body.  Let's face it, a few seconds scanning the TV or a magazine and the bodies that can be seen there leave me feeling a little less impressed with my own body.

Maybe God would like to reconsider his plan for my body just a little? You know the odd things that could do with a bit of a tweak so that I'd be feeling a bit more "fearfully and wonderfully made"? A slightly more flashy exterior as a house for the Holy Spirit could be quite uplifting in more ways than one.

Whilst we were having tea tonight, The Oldest Girl told me that I'm just like Baymax.  The Curate knew that I had already started writing this blog and referenced Baymax's appearance so he immediately tried to shush her.  She was somewhat taken aback and then she started to quote some of the things that Baymax says that remind her of mummy:



Maybe that's more what is meant by being "fearfully and wonderfully made"? Not just the exterior stuff but everything that can really make a difference.  The Oldest Girl doesn't care if my body isn't taut anymore but she does care about how I love her.

Or maybe that's still missing the point a bit? I have this huge debate about what I should do in terms of anything to do with my appearance.  As a Christian, should I spend money on having my haircut when I could give that money away to feed a starving family? What about spending money on makeup? Or clothes that look nice but are more expensive than ones that could keep me just as warm? At what point do we decide that it is or isn't OK to do something about our appearance? Because it seems to me that how we look isn't a factor in the grand scheme of eternal life.

And that is the real point of that verse about being fearfully and wonderfully made.  It has nothing to do with appearance.  The emphasis isn't even on us as human beings at all if you read the whole verse:



The emphasis is on praising God.  Being fearfully and wonderfully made isn't about me and my body.  It's about God's work being wonderful.  It's about the awesomeness of God, not me.  Think about it like this: I have a few friends who are brilliant artists.  I do not go around showing off their work with giving them credit.

Maybe if I stop thinking so much about myself when I look at my body and think more about my creator then I will feel a bit more "fearfully and wonderfully made"? And whatever way you look at it, my body may not look totally awesome anymore but it did grow five babies and that in itself is pretty awesome.

Let's talk about sex, Baby

Why don't Christian women talk about sex? (Yes, I'm really going there.)



OK, I know that some women choose not to talk about it because they believe that it should remain a private topic between husband and wife in honour of the sanctity of marriage.  And I'm not so naive as to discount how difficult the topic can be for women who are survivors of sexual abuse and certain words could trigger horrific memories.

But, other than that, why don't Christian women talk about sex?

I can remember being told about sex for the first time as a response to my question 'where do babies come from?' As a parent myself it seems like a fair time to bring the subject up.  After all, I'm not expecting our children to start asking deep and meaningful questions about how we celebrate the intimacy of our marriage.  But I'm not convinced that I will only be discussing the biology of procreation when I discuss sex with our children.  Let's face it, the number of times a couple has sex to make a baby is a relatively small proportion of the thousands of sexual acts that will occur during a lifetime of marriage.  We may have five children but we have had sex a lot more than five times!

Right now I'm sat here cringing because my mum and my brother read this blog and I'm talking about sex.   I've just admitted that we have sex for pleasure.  Out loud.  On the internet... Oh, the shame! And there it is.  The shame.  Why is it that I feel shame when talking about sex with my husband whom I have been married to for nearly 12 years? The world knows that we have sex.  The five children are a bit of a giveaway.  I have a theory about the shame.  As Christians, we spend all of our pre-married life learning that sex is bad, it is not for us, it is shameful, we will not do it... and then we get married.  With a flick of a switch, we are supposed to shake off years of linking sex with shame.

A few weeks ago I joined in with an online discussion amongst Christian women about 'how much sex do you have?' Aye, aye, I thought.  We don't normally talk about sex, but, this woman had been brave and even explained her reasons for asking the question.  I decided to honour her bravery by giving her an honest answer.  We chatted a bit and she was very grateful.  Other women were not so happy with me.  It was like I had broken the unspoken rule that "we do not talk about sex".  My response was frowned upon because it was honest.  Only one other woman answered the question directly.  Every other woman found a way to skirt around the subject and justify themselves.  How sad, I thought, that we cannot even support someone by having an open discussion (on a closed forum) about sex.  I was even more shocked by one person's response that I should feel. at best secretive, at worst ashamed of my answer.

We either believe the Bible or we don't, right? And if we are struggling with something then it can be a good idea to share that with a trusted friend or two, right? Except when it comes to sex.  We seem so focused on teaching about the negative side of sex that we don't teach about the positives.  I can't remember the last time that I heard any good teaching on sex outside of a national conference with a female Christian 'sexpert' speaking.  And I don't think that I can ever remember having a conversation with another Christian woman about any positive to do with sex outside of general 'I'm pregnant' discussions.  How do we expect our daughters to grow up with a healthy understanding of sex and their bodies if we only ever talk about the bio-mechanics and attach negatives to the act? How do we expect our daughters to come and talk to us if we give them the idea that sex is shameful and load guilt upon them before they've even had sex?

I know that in the next year or so I will be starting to talk about sex with our eldest daughter (I have no idea how I have survived parenting to already be at THAT stage).  Whilst I will talk to her about eggs, sperm and implantation, I will also speak to her about desire, pleasure and intimacy.  I have no idea how I'm going to do it yet (let's face it, I didn't exactly plan the chat about periods, boobs and body hair that came from nowhere one day) but with the grace of God, I will talk her through God's brilliant plan for sex in a way that she isn't threatened by it.

I also hope that The Church will wake up and realise that it is threatening generations of marriage because it doesn't teach about sex well, or if it does then it happens once in a blue moon.  During the past five years, I have probably heard teaching about the book of Philemon more often than I've heard any Christian teaching about sex.  And if the church won't support women in this Christian taboo subject, then women are going to have to work out how to talk to each other about sex.  Honestly.  Without judgement.  If we can't even talk about sex then how can we ever have hope of dealing with even more complicated issues like mental wellbeing?

Here is a really good article entitled 'Why Christian Women Need to Talk About Sex'.  If I haven't already persuaded you that this is an issue worth engaging with and conquering then this counsellor might just make you reconsider.

Time for everything

"It's time" I said as I nudged The Curate (in his pre-curate days) and tried to wake him up.  He rolled over.  I nudged him a little harder.  "No, really, it's time to go to the hospital.  You have to wake up the baby's coming!"



As a mother of five, I'm a bit obsessed with time.  I do not like to be late for anything and that can be quite difficult when coordinating leaving the house.  Someone always has a last minute need for something vital like a trip to the loo, a hat or dolly who may currently be naked but must be in a nappy, a baby grow and swaddled in the correct blanket unless I wish to hear screaming and sobbing throughout the entire school run.

I never have enough hours in the day.  I'm often asked how I fit everything in or how do I find the time to do x, y and z.  Well, as this blog is testament to, sometimes I let the non-essential things take a backseat for a while.  Sometimes I focus on the time dependent stuff first (like getting out the house on time for school) and leave other important stuff as a second priority (like getting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher).  Sometimes I stay up late writing essays whilst the house is peaceful.  When I get to the stage that the baby sleeps through (we're not there yet with number five) I try and get up before the children do to get everything set for the day and to get my head organised.  But no matter how organised I am, time always seems to spiral out of control.



Time is a funny thing.  We never seem to have enough of it and yet we can be masters of wasting time.  And then one day, it's gone.  And yet it carries on for everyone else.  I've finally finished watching the final episode of Call The Midwife and was particularly struck by the funeral scene.  I found myself pondering 'how do I want people to remember me when my time is up?' And even more specifically 'how do I want our children to remember me?' I guess a lot of that depends on how I use my time.



I get a little fed up of seeing loads of memes and other parenting advice on how to use my time as a parent.  You may have come across the poems 'Dust if you must' and 'Slow down mummy'.  They really annoy me.  Don't get me wrong, I'm all for playing with our children and can totally see the value of a bit of puddle splashing or mess making.  But, I also like healthy children and that involves a fair amount of cleaning.  What is important to me is that all of the children will remember that mummy was there when they needed me.  Mummy listened.  Mummy spent time with me.  Mummy cared.  Mummy loved me.  But, how do I achieve that with a limited amount of time?



It's all about choices.  This Lent I have chosen to not waste so much time on certain things so that I can concentrate more on God.  I think that I'm also concentrating far more on other important things too, especially important people.  I'm not convinced that Lent is a long enough season for me to fully work that one out but I am managing to deal with the temptation to waste time on the internet far better (who knew that having a phone that can do pretty much anything for you could ruin your life?!).  I'm still not a Pinterest mum.

The other day, a friend of mine made me laugh so much when she said that she would love to sit playing with her children all day (with their handmade wooden toys and organic edible paints made from vegetables grown on the allotment) but she doesn't have time because she has other stuff that needs doing as well.  I loved her just a little bit more for summing up my mummy guilt in such a tongue-in-cheek way.  I want to do loads of stuff that I aspire to as a mum or a wife but instead I end up feeling guilty when I'm not sat reading books with my children all day (because there's no app to replace your lap) and I do other stuff instead.

I've discovered that they way to deal with this mummy guilt is to try and find some balance.



Time also gives us lots of opportunities.  If we are gifted with today then we can choose how we use it.  Sit looking at FaceBook catching up with friends? Maybe that can wait until the children are in bed.  Pretend to be 'The Hood' from Thunderbirds for a few minutes instead of walking past my son's bedroom door and hurrying on with laundry? Sure! Clean behind the toilet whilst The Toddler asks what I'm doing? Well, yes, because it needs to be done and The Toddler doesn't like being ill.  Sit down with a cup of tea for a few minutes and just let myself be? Definitely! Everyone needs to recharge their batteries.

There are a few things that I specifically do as a Christian in terms of time management that I believe helps me.  The first is to prioritise spending some time with God each day reading my Bible and praying.  Why? Because it changes me.  It refocuses me on God and how He sees the world rather than my stressed-out-mum point of view.  Also, He gave me time so I spend some time thanking God for, well, pretty much anything.  The Bible teaches us to 'seek first his kingdom and his righteousness' so I try to have this time with God early in the day.  It doesn't always work out like that though.  The Bible also speaks about being wise in how we spend our time and making the most of every opportunity so I try to do that.  The other major thing that I do is to pray specifically about things as they crop up during the day and ask for guidance/wisdom on what to do.  No-one likes wasting their time and if I can do things God's way it seems to me that I haven't wasted my time. So if I have a little voice in my head telling me that now is my opportunity to play dollies and have a moment with The Toddler then I take that opportunity.  If I feel that God is prompting me to let the children play happily whilst I clear up the breakfast bowls then I'm grateful for that moment.

I do still stress about time.  Quite a lot actually.  Maybe it goes with the territory of having five children? It's at this point that I remember one of my favourite Bible verses:



I'm going to have to ask you to be patient with me over the next few weeks.  I have another essay to write (this is a short term so deadlines are close together) and I would like to stay vaguely sane.  My blog writing may continue to be sporadic.  I only have so many hours in the day and whilst I love writing, I also love sleep.

And on that note, it's time for bed...