I've started to suspect that many of my friends are liars

I have done well, I think, at choosing my friends.

 

I don't have many of them, but for the most part they are sainted, kindly folk; generous with their time, attention and resources and if there's a heaven above us, they are assured of a place there.

 

It's just a shame that I've started to suspect that many of them are big fat liars.

 

Nowhere is the smell of flaming pants more apparent these days than on Facebook. On any given day my news feed is filled with reports of senior infant Stephen Hawkings pondering the nature of the universe from their Britaxes, gaggles of kids creating art-and-craft masterpieces in immaculate, showhouse kitchens and check-ins at restaurants, pubs and cinemas for regular date nights.

 

Meanwhile at Madden Mansions, AJ is asking the same question over and over because, despite his head being able to store all 76 years of 'Batman' canon, he says he "can't remember" Mrs. M's age (although frankly I think she prefers if he forgets.) B is trying to break some sort of land-speed record in the kitchen (when he's not working on a Homer Simpson style bum-groove on the naughty chair, that is.) The baby will settle for me and probably not spit up on my shirt so long as I'm walking counter-clockwise around the living room – not too fast or slow, thank you - and singing 'You Are My Sunshine.'

 

Of course, my Facebook page tells a different story. Babies smile beatifically in immaculate sundresses. Toddlers offer cheeky grins and adorably garbled copycat versions of their big brothers. Those same big brothers are gentle and wise and attentive. I even have a couple of recent check-ins at pubs and cinemas.

 

But that's what we all do, isn't it? We edit what we reveal about our lives and our families to put the best possible impression out there. You wait until they're in a good mood and wash their faces to take their pictures. You hastily shove first-draft paintings and mop up the spills before you show off their masterpieces. You don't post about tantrums (unless they shouted something exceptionally precious at you) and you only check in at the good places and don't admit the number of times you've agreed to Happy Meals this month just for a little peace.

 

So I don't for one second believe that my children are more or less feral when compared to those of my friends. Out and about, they really are more than capable of good days. They can be polite. They can be calm. They can be tidy. The baby even sleeps when we want her to every once in a while. If it's any indication, AJ is pretty much the median for behaviour in the schoolyard. There are as many who by comparison are dainty little cherubs as there are tiny lunatics. You'd drive yourself mad trying to keep up with the Zuckerbergs, so I say we all just embrace normal and realise that everyone else is trying their best (and often making it up as they go along) too – regardless of what that status update says.

 

Of course, if any of you want to babysit so Mrs. M and I can check-in to something fancier than Domino's and Netflix, do get in touch.  The kids will be well-behaved and sleepy.

 

Probably.

 

John Madden is a freelance designer, writer and dad from Dublin. You can find him on Twitter as @johnmadden78.

 

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