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Some years ago, I met a woman in a yoga class. We usually ended up with adjoining mats, sharing eye rolls over our wobbly tree poses and not-so-straight planks. We liked each other and I suggested meeting for coffee outside for the potential start of a new friendship. Before we got as far as ordering coffees, she pulled out her phone.
“I was just with my 5-year-old grandson,” she said. “You’d love him!”
She played a video clip of him dancing.
She played a video clip of him pounding drums.
“Adorable!” I said. “But what about you? Tell me about you!”
“No! Wait! Watch this one!”
She played a video of him pretend-cooking in the kitchen.
I didn’t have grandchildren. What was I going do? Whip out my own personal baby pix?
Here I am in 1955 … this one’s from my third birthday party …
Instead of getting to know each other, I spent most of the coffee date nodding, smiling and saying things like: “Yes! The cutest!” and wondering, What’s with these paparazzi grandparents? How do new moms and dads even find the time to capture every burp, grin and grimace?
Baby photos are proliferating faster than babies, especially since we all started carrying entire photo libraries on our cell phones.
My mother never bronzed my baby shoes, but she did document my childhood with her trusty Kodak camera. Snap. Click. Drive to the drugstore to drop off the film. She diligently taped photos into my baby book and albums, all of which are now stored in my back closet taking up a ridiculous amount of room. Nobody else will ever want these reminders of my youth, but I feel guilty even when I think of tossing them — all while a part of me secretly wishes I could simply hit a delete button.
And what about Brag Books? Those miniature scrapbooks that needed to be constantly curated and updated so grandmothers could lug them around in their handbags. Compiling photograph collections used to take effort, but now show-and-tell appears at the touch of a fingertip.
My friend Leslie blocked the cousin who sent daily photos of his grandchildren. “Twins! Double the photos!” she said. “Just how many times can I text back Soooo precious!?” She calls it Response Fatigue.
Another friend, whom we’ll refer to as Anonymous Grandma, told me, “I get tired of seeing my own grandchildren’s photos.” Her daughter-in-law keeps texting a nonstop stream of pictures. “Those kids are photographed more than the Royals.”
I was sympathetic and totally understood. Until something happened.
I became a grandmother.
It's like a mystery force took over my entire body as I found myself reaching for my phone every other minute, aiming it at this new pink squiggly creature, saying, “Smile!”
Grandson #1 was barely out of the delivery room when I started posting a flurry of photos, my way of saying, Look! I’ve got one of these grandchildren type people, too! Then I promptly got scolded by the new parents. I was told I needed permission to post pictures, and clearance on which particular ones were acceptable for public display. Something was mumbled about the baby’s right to privacy.
“Excuse me?” I said. “You’re kidding, right?”
They were not. And I’ve learned to play by the rules. From now on, until the time these grandkids are old enough to personally sue me, any image I share will be vetted by their parents. It could be worse. Some grandmas I know aren’t allowed to post anything.
For those who must forgo social media, there are apps for families to share videos and photos, send out alerts and add comments. The apps are private; permission is required to access the images. Please don’t tell my grandkids’ parents about this.
Tinybeans.com uses a format that archives photos on a daily calendar month by month. It offers parenting advice and lets you create a registry for baby showers. Momatu.com has an alternative for building a cool photo timeline.
23snaps.com focuses on ease of use. A testimonial on their site, says, “Grandparents even get it!” which I find both vaguely insulting and compelling. The site explains that the name comes from snaps — the English word for photographs — along with the number 23 for the pairs of chromosomes in a genetic code. DNA references don’t strike me quite as cuddly as mini-sized beans, but all three sites are secure ways to chronicle your grandkids’ photos and videos. You can also use these online sources to compile entire books.
I know — because my coffee table is stacked with them. They’re a nice compliment to the photos covering every surface in my home. Framed photos of grandchildren appear in gift form whatever the occasion: birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Groundhog’s Day. You name it, somebody’s framed it.
The good news is, I can now brag with the best of them, as I present my phone’s photo gallery. “Look at Emerson coloring!” “Here’s Rowan eating solids!” “
You think your granddaughter can dance? Look at this little Ginger Rogers!”
I do my best to reel myself in and set limits, maybe showing no more than two photos per grandchild. I do this not because I’m the most disciplined person. It’s just my way of being polite and making sure I don’t make anyone else feel bad. Because, after all, as you can tell from their photos, my grandkids are the most beautiful in the world.
Are any of you grandparents? Do you share a lot of photos of your grandkids? Let us know in the comments below.
Pete Gamlen
Follow Article Topics: Relationships
