I think we put enormous pressure on ourselves as parents. Would you agree?  

I blame Facebook. I blame society.  I blame misguided priorities.

Somewhere along the line, people started thinking they had to live up to a certain standard, and I mostly think this was a result of watching people whom they perceived as having it all together.

You know the group I’m talking about – the family always looks like they stepped out of the catalog; cars are always spotless; white shoes are flawless; Facebook is plastered with tales of their excursions and their seemingly flawless lives.

Am I jealous? For sure.  

No, not really. I know enough of those types of people who are also honest.  Sure, they look as though they have it all together all the time, but they will admit that they don’t.  They just look good.

We compare ourselves to one another and it causes isolation.  You see, we can’t invite our perfect friends over to our house or ask them to ride in our car, because there might be a muddy footprint or a discarded soda can where it shouldn’t be.  So, we retreat to our homes and don’t invite anyone in. 

This is a shame. Remember when people used to “go visiting” on Sunday afternoons?

Now, I’ve written along these lines before, but this latest conversation of how we isolate ourselves came about when the subject of vacation pictures came up.

There were some friends who had gone on this glorious vacation. After we asked, they proceeded to fascinate us with tales of this awesome trip – one they had saved for and planned for. 

Truly, a trip of a lifetime. 

As they told stories of the trip, we all sat attentively and enjoyed the looks on their faces as they recounted all the places they’d been, the people they’d met, the food they had consumed, the gifts they had purchased, and the fantastic sites they had visited.  

We heard of funny happenings and relaxing mornings, afternoons, and evenings that were so vividly described that we felt like we’d gone on the trip with them. Indeed, after they were finished talking, we all sighed as if it was the end of a satisfying group outing.

And then someone asked the inevitable.

“Do you have pictures?  Are you going to post them on Facebook?”

Our friends looked sheepish and turned a little red with embarrassment.  Suddenly, the euphoria they had been portraying evaporated into a look and feeling of shame.

“We didn’t take very many pictures.”

What? No way. How could anyone who had just told about such a life-changing trip forget to take photographs? How would the rest of us be able to see the places they’d been, meet the people they’d met, see the grand dishes they’d consumed and so on and so on.

Wait a minute. We just had. Hadn’t we? Hadn’t we just sat for several wonderful minutes listening and imagining. We had just sat for several minutes clearly seeing picture after picture.

Hadn’t we?

The pictures in the minds of our friends were far more colorful and 3-D than any photo they could show us on their phone or from a Walgreens photo envelope.  

How many times have we been to places or attended a function in which we should have taken more pictures? We can spend a lot of time kicking ourselves about it all.

But in the end, memories are far better.  Sure, we might like to have a few snapshots here and there (which our friends indeed had), but the feelings the memories bring to us are more meaningful.

Sounds rather sappy, but you get what I mean.