Recently I posted an item on how to keep an argument with grown kids from getting ugly. One of the pointers was to think before you speak. Take a deep breath before you plunge into the heat of the moment.
"Communications technology encourages us to express whatever is on our minds in that instant," he wrote. "It makes self-restraint harder. But sometimes healthy relationships require self-restraint and self-quieting, deference and respect (at the exact moments when those things are hardest to muster)."
His bottom line is similar to the old-era approach: "A new kind of heroism is required. Feelings are hurt and angry words are at the ready. But they are held back."
So it seems we not only have to control our mouth, we have to keep those thumbs from tapping on the keypad as well.
Following up on yesterday's post on opening many lines of communication to stay in touch with our grown kids, there's this new Pew report
Pew's research suggests we--parents of grown children--are keeping up with the times and opening lots of avenues of communication with our iEverything (All-Thumbs) children.
Here's one excerpt from the report:
Facebook continues to be the most popular social media site, but its membership saw little change from 2013. The one notable exception is older adults: For the first time in Pew Research findings, more than half (56%) of internet users ages 65 and older use Facebook. Overall, 71% of internet users are on Facebook, a proportion that represents no change from August 2013.
Every other social media platform measured saw significant growth between 2013 and 2014. Instagram not only increased its overall user figure by nine percentage points, but also saw significant growth in almost every demographic group. LinkedIn continued to grow among groups with which it was already popular, such as professionals and college graduates, while Twitter and Pinterest saw increases in usership across a variety of demographic groups.
And some other data of note:
Fully 52% of internet users are on two or more social media sites. There’s wide overlap between users of different platforms.
Uber son was looking for advice about where to stay/what to do on a family trip to Williamsbrg, a place we used to visit with him and his sister when they were little kids. Did he call to ask me or his dad? No he did not. He posted the request on his Facebook page. We could add our advice if we had any.
Wondering what costumes the toddler-sized Grands wore on Halloween? No need to ask the parents: Check their Instagram account.
We may complain that social media communication distances us from our grown kids--they seem so much less personal than a phone call--but we might be wrong.
We could improve our relationships with our grown children--the young adults--if we communicate with them through a variety of channels, according to a recent study. Research from the University of Kansas tells us that the relationship satisfaction our emerging-adult kids have with us, their parents, is modestly influenced by the number of communication tools we use to communicate with them. Think: cell phones, email, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, texting.
Here's how the study worked:Jennifer Schon, a doctoral student at UK, had 367 adults between the ages of 18 and 29 fill out a survey on what methods of communications they used to connect with their parents, how often they used the technology and how satisfied they were in their relationship with mom and dad. In most relationships, adding an additional channel of communication had a modest increase in relationship quality and satisfaction. On average, participants reported using about three channels to communicate with parents.
While a parent's basic communication competency--the ability to get a message across effectively and appropriately--is the best indicator for how happy the child is in the relationship (according to the research), that doesn't mean adding a new tool is necessary. Parents who are already strong communicators won't see much of a difference by adding another way to communicate, but parents who aren't might.
In particular, Schon's research points to fathers who tend to use fewer channels of communication and communicate less frequently and for shorter amounts of time. This should come as no surprise when you read the first part of the title of her research report: "Dad Doesn't Text: Examining How Parents' Use of Information Communication Technologies Influences Satisfaction Among Emerging Adult Children."
Schon's findings are all well and good. Who doesn't want to improve the communication with their offspring--especially when those emerging adults are so busy, busy, busy pushing their parents away. But never forget the other rule of social media: Don't overdo it. No young adult wants mom or dad lurking on their Facebook page or sending them daily barrages of tweets. Moderation in all things all-thumbs.
Gorgon Head Roman Baths, Bath (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Our son has packed up his family of five and moved them to London for three months. They are living in a sweet little house in a leafy neighborhood. They can walk to several parks. They've played Scrabble at a nearby pub, climbed Primose Hill and visited Bath--spending some time at Farleigh Hungerford Castle. The two eldest kids have kicked the soccer ball in North London near Wembly and are trying out for youth football teams there.
We don't know this because our son, daughter-in-law or any of the kids have emailed, texted, Skyped or cell-phoned to tell us so. In fact, there's been very little personal interchange. We know what we know from the Facebook posts, photos and lengthy caption descriptions--down to their visit to Bath and their delight in a tour of the 4th century Roman baths --that are on our son's Facebook page and on a Shutterfly account he set up.
Even though it's informative, the means of communication feels impersonal . We don't know what the 6-year-old thought about the walking tour of Medieval London or how the 11- and 13-year-olds assess the football/soccer played by Londoners their age. Or how the home-schooling is going. We know what they're doing, and we can see by the sweaters they're wearing that it's a lot chillier in London than it is here, but that's it.
It isn't the same as keeping in touch by Skype or Google Chat--something we did regularly with our daughter and her family when they lived in Berlin for a year. Clearly, three months is not a year, so there isn't the same need. Still, we wouldn't mind the chance to sit in their kitchen--virtually, as we did in our daughter's Berlin apartment--and chat about this and that.
We shouldn't complain. We're part of a general (albeit select) audience. This is how information is shared in the digital age.
We're not alone in our social media half-life. In answer to reader-parents who wanted to know what to do about the online means their son uses to inform them (and everyone else) about his activities, Philip Galanes, the New York Time's Social Qs columnist, suggested this: "Find a way to stop feeling slighted by your son's use of social media. It is not about you....Think of your son as a newfangled memorist. That's what his blog and social media posts are aiming for. And read them. What better way to show him that you're interested in his life."
We're heeding that advice and staying au courant. We're also solving our personal communication issue the old-fashioned way. We're cashing in our frequent flyer miles for a week-long visit across the pond. Nothing social media about that.
There's nothing more discouraging than to be vacationing with or visiting a grown child and his or her family only to find everyone glued to a smart phone, tablet, laptop, netbook or gameboy. There's hardly any acknowledgement that you've arrived, and if there is, it's to let you know they are in mid-game or mid-text or mid-thumb activity.
My theory on vacation is that it's their vacation, too, and if that's what gives them pleasure and relaxation, live and let live. But as an everyday diet, it's hard to accept the way the iWorld is full of exclusionary devices that inhibit socializing.It's a national phenomenon: Children between the ages of 8 and 10 average eight hours a day in front of a screen; teens clock in at around 11 hours. I don't even want to know the numbers for the 2- to 6-year old set.
In our family, we are fairly fortunate. Our grown kids aren't addicted to devices themselves and they have set limits on screen time for their children--that includes TV among the screens. The limits apply on vacations as well. What's the point in being in Vermont where the sun shines on the mountain brooks and trees shade the hiking trails if you're not out there to experience it?
But when parents don't set limits--or the limits are so loose they may as well not be there--can the grandparents step in? On her Web site on grandparenting, Susan Adcox addressed the grandparenting role in screen time, suggesting ways for us to set limits even if the parents don't.
She says it "quite acceptable" for grandparents to have rules about the use of electronic devices in their homes. Among the steps she says grandparents could consider when grandkids are coming to your house for a visit:
--Prepare your house. Turn off the TV, shut down the computers and tablets and put the phone on vibrate. "Then don't cheat. Children are smart. If you say you're checking email and you're really checking your Facebook, they'll figure it out."
--Ban media at mealtimes and bedtime. "If you're lucky enough to have spare bedrooms or a playroom for the grandkids, keep them media-free as much as is practical."
--Have lots of alternative things to do: games and activities such as exploring nature or cooking together.
She also has some strategic "don'ts":
--Don't ban electronics altogether. "It's a battle that you're likely to lose." Besides, at times electronic devices are valuable to have around--such as when you're driving them somewhere or you need a few quiet moments to yourself.
--Don't nag your teen grandchildren about their electronic habits. "It's counter-productive to make remarks such as, "Don't you ever get tired of staring at that phone?" (Clearly, the answer is no.)"
Cell phones are ubiquitous in our lives--so much so that it's hard to remember when they weren't. When it comes to our grown children, they keep us in closer touch with the blips and bumps in their everyday lives, even when they live far away. Instead of talking to them on a land line at their apartment once or twice a week, we're apt to chat them up once or twice a day wherever they may be.
But cell phones may have ramifications for us when our grown children take up with a significant other--when they move in together, get engaged, marry. Both will have cell phones and that, in effect, may limit who you talk to and how you develop a relationship with the new son- or daughter-in-law.
A friend remembers back to the day when her in-laws or parents used to call. She and her husband would both get on the phone and talk to them. That put her in touch with her mother- and father-in-law when they were on the phone. Her husband connected to her parents when they called. Sometimes his parents would call and she would pick up the phone. Or vice versa. Now, her son, who just got married, has his cell phone; so does his spouse. They don't have a land line. When my friend calls her son, she gets her son--and never her daughter-in-law.
Skype can put the two of them together, but even the Skype calls come up on only one of their laptops or smart phones--and they may not be at home or even within shouting distance of each other. And then there's called ID. If we call out child's new bride or groom and they don't pick up our call, is their phone on mute or are they tuning us out? Or would they prefer a text to a call?
Adjusting our traditional lives to the disruptions of technology is not easy.
A PEW study reports that 91 percent of American adults own cell phones and use them for much more than phone calls. In PEW's most recent nationally representative survey, researchers checked in on some of the most popular activities people perform on their cell phones. It makes it clear that smart phones aren't going away and that we need to figure out how to use them to stay in touch with new members to our family.
The temptation was almost too much. Uber son had posted on Facebook his plans to take a trip--to be specific, to take himself and his family to Colonial WIlliamsburg, a destination that lies well beyond his home in the Northeast and just a little beyond ours in the Mid Atlantic.
He was asking his FB friends and acquaintances for travel tips--where to eat, where to stay in Williamsburg. Paterfamilias was ready to join in. "I was going to say, 'Hey, there's free room and board at your old homestead--and the food's good, too.' Then I thought better of it."
Good for you PF. Second-thinking is just the ticket. What could be worse than horning in on a social media site read by a grownchild's friends and business acquaintances with a less-than-helpful remark--and one that borders on inducing guilt.If we've got something to say, email, phone calls or a quick text is the preferred method--unless the FB account is for family only. Then no holds are barred. Even for us.
I am back from the brink of a Facebook faux pas. Yes, I was about to drop a comment on my son's FB page--the page he posted that linked to a Russian version of a page of his.
On his post, he was wondering what all those Cyrillic letters added up to, but I
keyed in on his photo on the "Russian" page. His expression was--to a mom's way of thinking--too serious and kind of dour. I was going to tell him (in the most jovial way, of course) to lighten up--un petit sourire--for his
Russian ancestry.
Then, whew, I thought better of it. This is a page that his friends and acquaintances--including those he does business with--see. No matter how humorous or witty the wording, a mom's commentary, especially about his appearance, is a poor choice. Even inappropriate, given that he is a grown man using Facebook to interact with industry peers. It would be belittling to have his mom tell him in a public space to put a more welcoming expression on his face. Besides, how unwise of me to remind him that I am nosing around his musings and casting a critical eye.
So I'll just say it here: un petit sourire. Or for those Russian ancestors: Немного улыбаться. He doesn't have to see it nor do his friends and--more to the point--neither do the people he works with.
Those of us at the older end of the baby boom have our frustrations with social media. You can hear our voices when you browse through Ask Ann or Carolyn Hax columns. We raise a litany of complaints about how our grown kids or grand kids are lost in their digital devices, using Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or whatever to express the most personal of emotions. (One constant annoyance raised by an army of letter writers: using email or a text message to thank us for a gift when, top our way of thinking, that should be done by pen-written word on a lovely sheet of writing paper. Dream On.)
We may find it astonishing when they share deeply personal losses with their followers or friends on various social media. The etiquette answers aren't all settled yet--and are unlikely to be settled in our favor. That's why I found this post on a blog by Nathan Bransford, a writer and former book agent [and soneone's grown child], helpful in putting things in perspective.
"Social media is a strange medium. You are staring at a computer or a
mobile device when you post and tweet. By its very nature you are not
engaging with another human. You are sending messages to an unknown
number of recipients you can vaguely imagine but can't really identify.
The result of that communication can alternately feel like shouting into
a quiet forest or a very loud, crowded room. And yet, because it's so
public and so immediate, there are moments when tweets and Facebook
posts can feel shockingly intimate.
Some people might find his tweets unseemly and some commenters thought
it trivialized the moment, but I think this kind of public experience of
real life will increasingly be a part of our future. We're all living
simultaneously public and private lives. And not just public and
private, as in the case of writing a memoir, but instantaneously public and private. It's something entirely new.
I've remarked in a recent interview about how pleasantly moved I was
by the outpouring of support after I announced my divorce. It didn't
strike me as false or trivialized by the medium. It was real, even
though it was coming through a computer.
Whatever it is, this is a completely new medium for experiencing life,
one that is both distant and immediate, public and intimate, and
mechanical and human."
Skype is not a telephone call: We don't video-call our grown children or Grands without warning. That would be a visual and virtual intrusion into their personal space.
So goes my good-sense rule for proper Skype etiquette. We here in our household adhere to it faithfully: Paterfamilias because he doesn't know how to Skype (he hasn't loaded it onto any of his e-devices; no one's helped him out yet) and me because, well, I wrote the rule. But there are outliers--rogue Skypers to whom this admonition does not apply.
My secret Skyper is a case in point.I was sitting at my computer editing a story one morning when the Skype ring sounded. It announced that my daughter-in-law was calling. She's never Skyped me. Doesn't really like the whole Skype thing--three children, she says, are two too many for a Skype call. So there must be a pressing reason for her call.
I press the "answer" button right away and onto my screen hoves a five-year old, momentarily upside down but smiling. She turns the iPad around and there she is right-side up, my youngest Grand, the one I usually get to spend the least amount of time with. She is a pre-reader but there's little she doesn't know about navigating the icons on her mother's iPad. She had clicked on Skype, saw my photo [I'm one of two Skype connections my son-in-law set up for his sister-in-law on her iPad) and voila, there I was.
What a precious time it was for me, who lives some 400 miles away from her. I spent half an hour chatting with her, one on one, just the two of us--no big sister or brother to answer for her, interrupt her chit-chat or demand a turn. She showed me how she had imitated a dog in drama class in kindergarten (woof!), she ran and got her spiderman mask and put that on, she gave me details about the family's canoe trip (she did not paddle). At some point in our chat, her mother wandered by and asked who she was talking to--one of her voice-activated games? "I'm talking to PenPen," she announced.
That was not the end of my secret Skyper. Later that day while I was out buying something for dinner, my iPhone's Skype rang and there she was again, ready to share some more of her thoughts--and a little more of that Spiderman mask. (I got to show her the rows of cereal and bins of apples at the store. Otherwise, our conversation was brief: a Whole Foods is not the best place to chat up a five-year-old.)
I await more Skype time with her--whenever she deigns to tap my Skype button. It is our little private way of communicating--something we share that doesn't include anyone else; something she does that her brother and sister don't. The Skype rules of etiquette have no relevance here. "Intrusive" is not a word to apply to a five-year-old's impromptu visit with a grandparent. The rules are for my generation--the ones who are tiptoeing around their grown children's lives and hoping not to make a social media faux pas. When it comes to Grands, it is not a two-way street.
But I do have secret-Skyper competition. After we hung up, my littlest Grand pressed the other Skype button on the iPad and rang up her uncle--the very one who had set up Skype on the iPad in the first place. He says he was delighted to get her call. Only hitch: He and my daughter are living in Berlin. It was midnight there when she called.
