The always switched-on mom

It’s only lunchtime and my whole morning has been consumed with following the Oscar Pistorius bail hearing, and reading opinions on the ‘Black Friday’ movement in support of the Stop Rape campaign. Somewhere in the mix a poor reporter has been saddled with writing up the dull-as-doorknobs State of the Nation analysis.

Oh, and an asteroid will miss the Earth by a ball-hair at 9pm tonight – apparently viewing conditions will be great from our southern nook of the planet.

It’s messy stuff. South Africa is a bit of a dog’s breakfast at the moment: economically, socially…

I never really gave a crap about of these things when I was younger. Now I’m 32 years old. A thinker. With ideas. With opinions. With responsibilities.

And most importantly, with children.

As this blog matures, I find it harder to write about the frivolous things like what my favourite pastry shop in Johannesburg is, and what brand of nappies my kids wear and which clever mom-related campaigns get my stamp of approval.

I worry Lionheart readers. I worry that we’re losing our humanity.

The last 48 hours have been a merry-go-round of stupid jokes about Oscar not having a leg to stand on, that fake Nandos ad (“We don’t shoot our chicks, we flame-grill them”) and the cacophony of noise surrounding the Stop Rape campaign – so many opinions, so little clear-thinking.

We’ve got a tough job ahead of us, parents. Never before has society been so morally bankrupt, the hands of our leaders so dirty… I imagine this speech has been made by my parents and my grandparents ad infinitum.

Raising children in the age of instant-everything means that moms and dad always have to be switched ‘ON’.

Yes, I know – parenting is a full-time job anyway, but consider this: in the Fifties children were raised to be seen and not heard. By 2020, when my babies and toddlers are a little older, I don’t need a crystal ball to predict that I’ll spend an ordinate time worrying about what my kids ARE seeing and hearing. Screening their access to media. Guarding their innocent eyes and ears with a light sabre.

My children are overexposed. Too vulnerable. And when my five-year-old asks me: “Mommy, what’s rape?” I’d better have a well-thought-out response because that’s what being an always-switched-on mom means, and I dare not let them pluck that information from the cloud, or their peers.

I supposed this post isn’t a great example of clear-thinking either. It must be that asteroid hurtling towards the Earth that’s throwing out my sense of gravity. Gravity. Ged’dit? Nevermind, it’s a little play on words for astronomy fans.

Good grief - I imagine I’m going to be one of those sherry-swilling doom-and-gloom grannies who start all their sentences with “You know, when I was your age...”