Social media controversy

I Post Pictures of My Kid On Social Media, And Here’s Why

I Post Pictures of My Kid On Social Media.

This is another one of those controversial parenting topics.

Reasons Not To Post Your Child’s Photos on Social Media

Deciding on whether or not to post a picture of your kid on social media is a hard choice. There are valid concerns involved. Does sharing a picture of my kid violate their privacy and governance over their own body, actions, and choices? Like, when my kid is grown, is he gonna be like, “Gee thanks, mom. Maybe I didn’t want my future partner to be able to find goofy ass third grade pictures of me without having to go through an awkward family dinner at Boston Market first.”?

Does posting pictures on social media put my child in danger?  Do predators shop online for, “Super talkative child with brown curly hair and brown eyes. Smudged glasses preferable”?

Can the people on my social media accounts be trusted with a picture of my child? Do I even really know who is on my accounts; even though I think I have control?

These are all valid reasons to not post the photos.

Here’s The Reason I Post Photos of My Child On Social Media

I have to think about what kind of mom I am. Y’all ready for this?


The grandmas are on Facebook. I have no idea how they got there, but there they are. Are the grandmas going to get updated school pictures in the mail? Hahahaha! Every couple of years, I’ll send them an envelope with pictures from the last four school years when I decide to Kon Mari some crap and find the overpriced and in mint condition pictures in a filing cabinet. Or I’ll take a picture of a picture and send it in a text message with a text that reads, “Sorry. I know I suck.”

What about the baby book? You know, the book the people in corporate designed to entice you to keep up with all the cute baby things? Does anyone even know which corporation those people work for? There’s somebody who pays the mortgage making these things hard to resist. I’m lucky my baby book even has a picture of a baby in it. Somewhere in between crawling and teething, the book got put on a shelf. The book lives on the shelf until the next time I move away.  And every time I move, I open it and go, “Aww, it’s a shame I gave up on this.”

You know how there are books to keep track of school years? Like a scrapbook of pre-k through med school? Is third grade too late to start? Because I thought kindergarten was too late, and now it just keeps getting later. Whoops. There was recently a sale on grade school stickers at Hobby Lobby. And I told the display, “Sorry, I know I suck.”


The Past And The Future Matter

One day, probably in 20 years, some wonderful person is going to make the choice to create a life with my boy. She’s going to envision making a life with this kid. But she’s gonna wanna see some pictures and report cards so she can better fantasize what my grandkids are going to be like. And I don’t want to ruin the moment or stop her from having my grandbabies. I’m gonna need some grandbabies.

So, why should I highlight chronologically every single awkward phase? I’m going to give her some paper crates of my taxes, school pictures, and every receipt from every purchase I made at Hobby Lobby (not including grade stickers or scrapbooks, evidently) and let her sort that out herself. My grandbabies need a mother that is tenacious and organized. And this will be a test. If she can show me all the paperwork once it’s finally organized, I’ll even buy her a totally rad Christmas gift and actually remember her birthday.


I Want The Raw, The Real, And The Unedited Account Of My Life And Parenting Journey


Anywho, I’m going to get back to the point. So I can tell you stories about the past all day long. I know the preamble, the nitty gritty details, the climax, the resolution, the ending. I know everything. But that’s in hindsight. We can have an absolutely horrible terrible no good very bad day and then call it the most magical day ever a week later during the recap or #tbt or whatever we wanna call it.

The ability to Facebook every boring detail of my life shows my life in real time. It doesn’t allow for revisionist history. It doesn’t make life pretty all the time. And it certainly takes away my ability to tell a grandiose story that would make me a winning socialite at a slightly tipsy mom soiree where everyone will laugh and laugh and actually like me for a second. We all need You know, the one with no filter. The one who says the bad words. The one you want to hide in a closet and eat cake with, but not actually introduce to your other friends because she just knows too much now. Screw all that. (But, no, wait. Come back. I want you to like me.)  I want the “On This Day” memory app. I want the raw, and the real. And the grandmas deserve it , too.

Check In With Yourself and How You’re Storing Memories. If It’s Important To You, Remind Yourself To Do It.

I personally feel that active journaling or status updates are the best forms of tangible memory keeping that exist. And we aren’t going to walk around with school days books in our purses no matter how important we find them. We are going to walk around with the latest and greatest in phones, tablets, and gadgets. I found that having a camera roll with 12000 pictures on it (Not making this up. It’s no wonder its little robotic brain exploded) was safe. It was safe until I was going to download the pictures to my private files. Until I didn’t ever do that. And then, one night, my phone did a factory reset. I yelled “NO!” like when Mufasa dies in The Lion King. It was traumatic.

But Facebook has my back. Until the latest rounds of privacy violations and drama take effect. But for now, it’s my only hope.

It’s my only hope for documenting life in real time.

If you want to share, what are your rules for sharing your kid on social media? How do you keep up with filing away memories?


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