Most of what we write is opinion. We sculpt ourselves as experts in a field we are hobbyists, or passionate about, and start writing with conviction. If we’re lucky, we gather an audience that look to us as leader and rely upon our teaching to guide them. The ego gets fed further.

Once the audience grows, the echo chamber starts reverberating. If your writings have a certain slant, you’re likely to gain a following among like minds. Those who have differing opinions will likely find a tribe they can follow where they’re welcome, else they’ll try to rattle your cage and be branded an anonymous troll.

Once these ideological tribes get created in social media, they gain momentum and try to branch out and feed on trolls. They shout down dissenting opinion to keep the beliefs strong.

You see it with Fox News. You see it with Mommy Bloggers.

Two scenarios in the past month have me scared for what is happening in the parenting blog world. Social media moms are turning into Mean Girls. The kind that bullies those who are different, don’t share ideology and choose a different path. Instead of enlightening each other in different methods of parenting, the blogs are being divided along stringent party lines.

There are lactivists trumpeting breast feeding and shouting down anyone who dare place a synthetic nipple within sniffing distance of an infant. Now there are intactivists threatening to protest a little boy’s funeral because he died shortly after circumcision.

The story of Joshua is tragic, the circumcision had nothing to do with his passing, yet it has become a rallying cry for a protest group. It has become a mantle for them to hold high as proof to the world that their cause is just. It started as a group trying to stop what they determine to be genital mutilation and became outright bullying.

I am circumcised. I snipped both my boys. It wasn’t a tough decision, but it wasn’t necessarily an easy one either.

Two weeks ago, I snipped myself again. ( Scissors seem to be everywhere in this family lately).

Does it make me less of a parent because a few centimetres of foreskin are missing from all the males in this house?

Is my wife less loving a mother because we switched to formula when breast feeding became too difficult?

We blog about parenting because we’re passionate parents. We’re trying to find out what’s best for our kids and we want to act as beacons to help other parents find their way.

But there are different paths. Not every one is right, nor is any one particularly wrong.

Shouting down someone else because they parent a little differently than you is no different than the bullying that has grabbed headlines across the continent this month.

Cmon, we’re parents. We know better. Let’s show our kids it gets better when you get older.

They bond together more quickly and strongly than any other political group in history – and they are political. Women who have social media bonds tend to be more outspoken and active in debates that go against their collective wisdom.

Witness the furor that is whipped any time breast feeding is debated.

There’s the Nestle Family fiasco. There’s Gisele Bundchen speaking out. The latest is a logo on a onesie at Old Navy.

The simple stylized phrase “Formula Powered” has the social media moms whipped into a boycotting frenzy.

Cate Nelson of the green parenting blog ecochildsplay.com wrote about the outfit on Sept. 13: “As if the formula industry didn’t have enough power … now your baby can empower it with this adorable onesie. Yuck, right?”

She and others are posting both the Old Navy corporate contact information for complaints and the form letters they have received back from the company.

Canadian breastfeeding expert Jack Newman has also waded into the controversy. A letter he wrote last week about being “shocked” by the logo is being circulated on websites including drmomma.org.

One ecochildsplay.com commenter, Alexx, called formula feeding “risky.” “What would you say if a pregnant mom had a maternity shirt that said ‘CIGARETTE POWERED!’ ?! You would probably freak out,” she wrote.
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Well guess what, Moms, not everyone can breast feed. My wife tried it with Zacharie. He couldnt latch. We saw a lactation consultant, did all the exercises, positions and it just. didn’t. work. So she pumped. For SIX MONTHS. This turned the normal feeding process into a task twice the length because it meant sitting in a chair for 30 minutes 4 times a day to pump.

My mother (a nurse) called Jen a hero for putting up with the extra 2 hours of labour each day to try and squeeze out every drop she could for her son. Finally, she was convinced she had done her best and was just exhausting herself with the pumping. We switched to formula.

With baby number 2, we had the same problem. Charlie was tongue tied which prevented him from latching properly. We snipped his frenulum to help the process. For another 5 months, my wife spent an extra two hours a day hooked up like a dairy cow.

She would look longingly at women who were able to just “whip it out” in a food court or park. When our sons needed to be fed she had to pack along extra bottles and seek out a way to heat them – it was a process.

So for us to see women get on a pedestal and absolutely blast those who don’t have boobs that work as being part of the problem, we get defensive.

Is a “Formula Powered” onesie propaganda? Hell, no. It’s cute. It’s fun.

The self-righteousness that accompanies the breastfeeding debate is embarassing. And why is there a “debate?” Breast is best. Full stop, end of discussion. BUT – not everyone can do it, and those women need to be supported, not chastized.

We’re dads, we don’t really have a say in the matter other than to offer support and help where we can. As one father commented to me “my wife chose formula. Great side effect was that I instantly became a complete equal in the ability to care for & feed infant.”

What about you? Was your family successful at breastfeeding? Did you have a choice?

Here at DadCAMP, we love mothers. (Not exactly in that SNL way)

If you’re a mother lover, here’s a chance to show the special mom in your life how much you appreciate her. In celebration of our 100th post at DadCAMP and Mother’s Day, we have a Flip Ultra HD to giveaway.

The Flip UltraHD camcorder combines Flip Video’s signature shoot-and-share simplicity with the power of vivid, vibrant HD video. With 2 hours of record time, you’ll never miss another minute again. And because of UltraHD’s pocket-sized portability, you’ll truly be able to capture HD video anytime, anywhere.

I love my Flip Mino HD. It’s handy to tuck into a pocket and it’s what I use to shoot most of my videos. Having a dedicated film camera that’s portable let’s me keep the camera settings on shots while the Flip is on standby for video.

Winning is easy.

Simply post a comment below telling me about a mother you love and why she should have the super easy to use Flip Ultra HD to make movies about the ones she loves.

OR you can tweet up this contest with the hashtag #dadcampflip

OR write an open letter to a mom you love on your own blog and link back to this giveaway.

Simple!

You need to have your entry online before May 8, one winner will be selected at random.

Photo by Brian Daniel Eisenberg

I was lucky enough to find a parking spot outside the play room at the new Lynn Valley Public Library this morning for what I thought was going to be story time. It was the most bizarre experience of my life, I had a front row seat to The Cult of Mom.

Before the class started they were chitting and chatting about stroller fit classes, bumps and bruises, comparing nap times and showing off cute new polo shirts on their son.

I sat quietly in the corner.

I can’t describe the feeling as anything but fear. These women had bought fully into this 30 minutes of freedom. No longer were they tied up at home changing diapers, they were here to fraternize with their Sisterhood of the Travelling Peg Perego.

From the opening bell no less than 2 dozen moms, and their under 18 mos offspring, were heartily singing a long to “The Little Pink Duck” “The Thumb Song” “Good Morning” and many many other entirely forgettable hits.

It reminded me of the folk choirs we had at church as a kid. Every single mom smiling beyond belief and every single child blankly staring through the walls. The moms were there to sing and they had bought in to the scenario hook. line. sinker.

The instructors had the biggest smiles, were making the grandest over exaggerated gestures possible and every single mom was following along. They knew the words. They knew the actions. They were performing with lustful glee as if Simon Cowell was peering through the glass and ready to crown them Mom Idol.

Z sat there just as stunned as I. I tried to make the motions, and sing some of the lyrics, but Z just sat there. He didnt clap. He didnt smile. He didnt try to sing.

This is odd. He’s the happiest child you have ever seen. He loves to clap and dance and yell and scream. But he did none of it.

When the 30 minutes was up I hightailed it out the door and down the stairs as fast as I could before one of the moms stopped me and asked if I’d accepted “Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun” as my personal saviour.