The Lost Virtue: Part 1- Politeness

 

 

Ok, maybe “the” lost virtue is a bit dramatic, but lately I’ve noticed more and more that politeness is slowly becoming less and less common. Worse, it’s becoming boring. Sarcasm and snark is the in thing now, and are made worse by the relative anonymity of the internet. It’s like there’s an unspoken rule that if I can’t see your face, I’m allowed to say whatever the bleep I want to and about you, your fashion sense, your parenting choices, your lifestyle, or your hair. This cowardly cruelty is taking over the comment sections of every website available. 
Worse, that snarkiness has started to bleed into our “real” life, and cutting remarks, sarcastic critiques, and downright rudeness has become the norm. 
Think about your activity on social media. “I’m so happy, my marriage/kids/pets bring so much joy to my life!” is going to get a lot less traffic than virulent rants at the lady behind you in line (which get a little less traffic than Frozen memes).
Remember the “What’s Your Excuse?” mom? Or more recently, look at all the flak Princess Kate has taken for some of her mothering choices. Seriously, people? She wiped baby drool on the hem of her skirt. Wow. I’ve wiped noses with the hem of my apron and continued to wear it. I’ve even been known to wipe said noses with my fingers and rub my fingers in the grass if there’s no way to get to a tissue in time. Don’t pretend you haven’t. 
The point is, we all have “oops” or “hope no one is looking” or “do what you have to do” moments, and unfortunately, there’s always someone looking and probably filming. 
In Chinese culture there’s a custom called “saving face”, and it is the opposite of what Americans think of when we hear that term. The custom demands that in social situations that get awkward, you do everything you can to avoid embarassing the other person. What a difference it would make if we could embrace that attitude in our online and offline interactions! The simple act of giving grace, assuming the best, overlooking offenses (that’s in the Bible, y’all,) and good old-fashioned politeness could go miles toward promoting a culture of peace (that’s in the Bible, too). 
Think about it. If a family sitting in a restaurant has a child that is throwing a tantrum, what happens? They get dirty looks, people at adjoining tables have loud conversations about discipline and basic manners. Yes, I understand that you’re inconvenienced. (Let’s forget, for a moment that you chose to eat in a room full of people, big and small.) What would happen if, when that rotten 2-year-old started screaming and the mother started feeling pressure to give in to his demands just to shut him up, we all just calmly continued to eat, pretending he wasn’t there? Or better yet, when we pass by their table on our way to the bathroom or the door, smile at her and compliment her on her child’s healthy lungs. 
The next time someone writes an article or blog or facebook post that you really, really disagree with or dislike, instead of lambasting them in the comment section, try a) stating your disagreement in a respectful, contructive way, or b) approaching them privately and having a calm and grown-up discussion. 
There are two overarching rules that I strive to follow in all my online interactions: If I wouldn’t say it in person, I shouldn’t say it online. And if I wouldn’t say it in front of my grandma, I shouldn’t say it at all.

And in the immortal words of Thumper: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”

Tough Love

 

 

 

This meme, which has littered my Facebook feed for several weeks, accompanied by comments along the lines of “So true!” and “Yeah!” and “Wish all Christians felt this way!”, absolutely breaks my heart.

 

And probably not for the reason you think it does.

I Corinthians 7 has this to say about divorce:
10To the married I give this charge (not I, but the Lord): the wife should not separate from her husband 11(but if she does, she should remain unmarried or else be reconciled to her husband), and the husband should not divorce his wife.

 

This is the only place in the Bible that I could find any instructions for what happens after “he shall issue her a certificate of divorce.” (Deuteronomy 24) The “consequences” of divorce are a broken home, confused or possibly traumatized children, and a poor example of the love of Christ and trustworthiness of Christians. If I am wrong, someone please correct me, but I could not find ANYWHERE in the Bible where it said someone (man or woman) should be stoned for divorcing. 
Malachi 2 says God hates divorce, Matthew 5 says, 31“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ 32But I say to you that everyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of sexual immorality, makes her commit adultery, and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

 

Now, I assume that the consequences that this meme is referring to are the consequences for adultery (stoning) or sex outside of marriage, including rape (usually resulting in a shotgun wedding). And, while I won’t be taking a stance on that today, I will say that severe, consistently enforced consequences greatly limit the amount of infractions. 

 

All that to say, the comparison is deeply flawed, but his premise is correct: Sin is sin is sin. God hates divorce Malachi 2), God hates idolatry (Deuteronomy 16), God hates the violent man (Psalm 11). 
Proverbs 6:16 says:  There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: 17 haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, 18 a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, 19 a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.

 

Hmmm, seems like there are a lot of things that tick God off. But here’s what He has to say about homosexuality in I Corinthians 6:8

But you yourselves wrong and defraud—even your own brothers!  9Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, 10nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. 11And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

 

Sin is sin, and people are sinners. Some have been washed, sanctified, and justified, but all are sinners. Is it wrong to judge someone else’s level of sin or whether or not they are saved? Abso-friggin-lutely. Is is wrong to point out, in love, when someone is living in a way that is completely contrary to what the Bible teaches? Absolutely not. There is a big, fat, neon line between loving people, all people, and supporting lifestyles that fly in the face of God’s laws. Verse 9 says that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God, and that sounds like a pretty serious consequence to me. Loving someone is not encouraging or enabling them to live in sin. Loving someone is being willing to tell the truth about what the Bible says, and what it says the consequences are for sin. We tend to think that the Bible is outdated, and because it doesn’t match up with what our culture says, it no longer applies. When did we go from, “everybody sins” to “it’s ok to sin, because Christ died for you”? Paul says that “all things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable for me.” What he means by that is, if we accept Christ, our sin is no longer going to damn us to Hell. But just because it’s not sending us to Hell, doesn’t mean it’s GOOD for us. 

 

As a teen, I would often try to convince my parents that I could watch a certain movie by telling them what it didn’t have. 
“It only has 25 swear words in it, and they only use the F-word once.” (Thank you, pluggedinonline.com)
“They don’t actually show him getting decapitated. Someone told me so!”
“There’s nothing wrong with it because it’s only rated PG-13! I’m 14 years old, so it’s ok for me!”
My mom’s constant rejoinder was, “I don’t care what’s not wrong with it, what is right with it?” 
Which was typically met with sullen teenage silence, or a weak argument on the beauty of Johnny Depp and a listing of every other teenager I knew who had seen the much-desired movie, usually followed by a treatise on how strict their parents were or weren’t and how that should be good enough reason. It generally wasn’t.

 

It breaks my heart that this is the attitude we take with God. We shove aside His laws because we aren’t content in our situation, or because we aren’t content with the way He created us, because everyone else is doing it, or simply because we don’t care. Often, it’s just too much work to follow the rules. Nobody ever broke the rules because they thought it would be hard. Humans as a species are utterly lazy and willing to take the path of least resistance at the drop of a hat. It is easier to go with the flow of society, and shove “fitting in” under the umbrella of “love thy neighbor.” We are making excuses for not making waves. Jesus wasn’t afraid to make waves; He flipped tables, called out religious leaders, ate with prostitutes, and upset every social norm He ran into. But He never said, “It’s ok, just keep on sinning, because I love you no matter what.” He said, “You are forgiven, now go, and sin no more.” 

 

Here is my response to the statement that “The Bible says to love thy neighbor… so we as a church family have to support equality with a smile on our face.” (Feel free to sub in whatever sin is the biggest hot button in your life)
1) YES absolutely we are to love EVERYONE. Unconditionally. And we are to show that love in a Christ-like fashion. 
2) Sometimes people screw up. Loving them is NOT ignoring their screw-ups, but helping them through it. 
3) If we say we love someone, but excuse the on-going sin in their life instead of addressing it, we are sabotaging not only their chance at a life of peace with God, but also our own witness. 

 

John 8:3 The scribes and the Pharisees *brought a woman caught in adultery, and having set her in the center of the court, 4 they *said to Him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. 5 Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do You say?” 6 They were saying this, testing Him, so that they might have grounds for accusing Him. But Jesus stooped down and with His finger wrote on the ground. 7 But when they persisted in asking Him, He straightened up, and said to them, “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again He stooped down and wrote on the ground. 9 When they heard it, they began to go out one by one, beginning with the older ones, and He was left alone, and the woman, where she was, in the center of the court. 10 Straightening up, Jesus said to her, “Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?” 11 She said, “No one, [a]Lord.” And Jesus said, “I do not condemn you, either. Go. From now on sin no more.”

 

 

 

 

Don’t Worry, Be Happy

Today I wrote a peppy, “can-do” status on Facebook about how I’m going to write more, encouraging people to check out my blog, following my passion, etc. I agonized over wording, wrote and rewrote so it didn’t seem as though I was shamelessly plugging my blog, tried as hard as I could to sound humble, not like I was being prideful. I finally got the two-paragraph status to a place that I was happy with, and posted it. But after I did that, I realized how quiet the house was. Anyone who has ever been around preschoolers knows, that’s a bad sign. Sure enough, I went into the bedroom, and the 3-year-old had “watered” some toys and the carpet. As I write now, our new puppy is tearing around the dining room with a rawhide bone in his mouth, begging to play. Again. And again, I think to myself, motherhood is not for the faint of heart. Or stomach. Then I clean up the puppy piddle on the floor.

Seriously, does anyone else want to pee on the floor, today?

Mornings like this I wonder to myself, what right do I have to take time to myself? Obviously my children and our newest, four-legged addition need my time and attention. The laundry is sitting on the couch waiting to be folded, there are dishes in the sink, and the floors need to be vacuumed. Again. Then I have to stop and remind myself, my kids and my husband and my hyper boxer puppy and my live-in college-student sister-in-law all deserve a whole person. They don’t deserve to have me storming around the house, bored, frustrated, and creatively stifled. More than that, I deserve to be happy. I absolutely cringe to type that. In fact, I deleted it once, then re-typed it. But it’s true, when I have discharged my other responsibilities, I have the right to pursue what makes me happy. Unfortunately, I think we, as a society, have bought into Hollywood’s extremes on parenting: all or nothing. Either you work all day and play all night while the kids are with a sitter (or spouse), or you tie yourself to them and never leave their side for 18 years. Neither is healthy, but I think buying into the latter can make us both frustrated, because it’s nearly impossible and terribly exhausting, and self-righteous, because we spend more time with our children than our friends do with theirs. 

How dare she go to an excercise class? Her baby needs her at home! How irresponsible!

How dare he go out for a drink with the guys? His wife is at home with their kids! What a chauvinist.

They are going on a trip without their kids? Wow, how selfish. 

I have to admit, almost all of these judgements have crossed my mind. But recently my attitude has had a major adjustment. I began to notice how cranky I’ve gotten. I was a nice person, once. I’m a nice person still, occasionally. But sometimes I’m just plain miserable to be around. As an introvert, and a mother, I don’t get very much time to myself. I love it when my husband asks me to mow the lawn because it means hours of alone time with my thoughts, and I come inside refreshed and content. 
Honestly, who doesn’t want a mom who is happy with herself? Who doesn’t want a spouse who is content and at ease? And who in her right mind would deprive her children of a calm and rested mother? Who, exactly, is that fair to? 
So, armed with my new, “take time for relaxation” attitude, I’m setting off on a new journey. I want to write, and not just blog. If sparkly vampires can sell millions of books, I should be able to finish a draft and find a publisher, right? Right after I mop the floor, again. 

Astronaut Day

“Zoom! Zoom! It’s Astronaut Jude!” He runs around the kitchen making flying noises and “zooming” the toy airplane dangerously close to the food I’m preparing for dinner. 
“Mommy! I’m Astronaut Jude! Look! It’s Astronaut Mommy!”

“Hi, Astronaut Jude, can you please fly into the living room? Astronaut Mommy doesn’t want space shuttle-flavored meatballs.”

As he flies away, tears fill my eyes and a lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. 

What do you tell a child when you know that there are options that will never be open to him? “You can be anything you want” is an empty promise, now. But to tell him, “Sorry, honey, you’ll never be an astronaut, or go into the military, or anything else that bars preexisting conditions. In fact, for the rest of your life, you will have to get injections 4 to 6 times a day, count everything you eat, check your blood sugar at every meal, and wear a medical alert bracelet.” is cruel. You just don’t say that to a preschooler. And right now, he doesn’t know or care. But what about when he’s ten? Or fifteen? 

A friend gave me an article about a young man who is a senior in highschool, and has been type 1 diabetic for two years. His mom says, “(Diabetes) isn’t who he is, it’s what he has.” And it’s true, my son has every chance of living a long, healthy, full life. And I understand that completely. But the idea of telling him that he won’t ever be an astronaut is just too much right now, so today, I’m not going to face that. Today we are going to play astronaut and whatever else he wants, maybe dinosaurs, while we’re at it. Come to think of it, my daughter wants to be a Tyrannasaurus Rex when she grows up, so maybe they’re on even ground. I guess the lesson here is that there will always be things we can’t achieve, but we can’t let that rob us of what we do have, or can be.  Someday, I’ll explain to him what career options are going to be easier than others for him to get into, but today is Astronaut day.

Perception

Perception is everything. While preparing for a weekend away without our two children ages 2 years and 10 months, I decided to be proactive and get them all packed for a 4-day stay at Nana’s house, two days before they had to leave. I stuffed a dozen tiny pairs of socks, a dozen Lilliputian pairs of jeans, a pink, frilly Sunday dress, as many clean shirts as I could manage to find, and two full packages of diapers into the biggest suitcase we own. And when it was over, the kids were still napping, so I packed my own things in an overnight bag and tossed it at the foot of the bed. When my husband got home I proudly announced that the three of us were all packed up. He looked at the bed and said, “We need to discuss your idea of packing for a weekend. There is no way you need that much stuff for two nights.” Feeling slighted, I let it pass with an “I was pretty proud of myself.” I went to bed feeling just a little irritated at his unreasonable attitude. Just because all he packed was an extra shirt and deodorant didn’t mean that was all I needed.

The next morning he called on the way to work, and brought it up again. This time he offered to help me pack, to show me why I didn’t need such a big bag. By this point I’ve been stewing on this undeserved censure for about 12 hours, and I decided to stick up for myself. 

 

“I thought I did really well. I didn’t pack anything I didn’t need for the weekend, and it’s all my toiletries, too.” 

 

“That’s one of the biggest bags in the house! Don’t you have a green overnight bag?”

 

Silence. Wheels turning. “Yeeeeesssss…”

 

“You should be able to fit everything you need into that.”

 

Silence again. Lightbulb.

 

“Honey, I DID use the green bag. The big blue one is for both kids, complete with diapers, for four days.”

 

Silence. 

 

I giggled. “You really thought I used that giant suitcase for a weekend?”

 

He snickered, “Well, what was I supposed to think? It was laying in the middle of the bed!” 

 

We both had a good laugh over the misunderstanding, but it occurred to me afterward that these types of miscommunications might happen every day; in our marriage, with our kids or coworkers, or in our church families. It was a good reminder for me to see things from someone else’s perspective before I assume they are judging me unjustly. And perhaps before judging them, as well. 

 

 

Letting Go

A few months ago in Florida a man was swallowed up by a sinkhole that opened up below his bedroom as he slept. His brother in the next room heard his screams and ran into the bedroom. The brother couldn’t see the man, but he could hear him, so he jumped into the sinkhole after him. A law enforcement officer had to pull the second brother out before he, too, was swallowed up. As of the time of this writing, there is still no sign of the man, and officials labelled their efforts a “recovery” instead of a “rescue”. 

This tragedy speaks deeply to me on a spiritual level. Let’s take a step back for a moment and, without in any way belittling the pain and trauma of this family, apply the same situation to a church family. 

 

As I go along in my Christian walk, I notice a brother or sister with a spiritual sinkhole opening beneath them. Some sin that they have is threatening them, their marriage, their ministry, their children, or some other aspect of their life. Ideally, they would notice it on their own. In the real world, however, it’s all too often that we are blind to our own sins. Jesus addresses the issue of hypocricy in Luke 6:42 when He tells us to remove the log from our own eye before we worry about the speck in our brother’s eye. Unfortunately, this verse often serves as an excuse to disregard the loving rebuke of a brother or sister, instead of instruction on preparation to give the rebuke. But let’s assume for the moment that I see the “sinkhole” forming, I remove any “planks” and get my heart right with God, and then go to my sister and, in love, point out the danger she is in. What happens next? 

 

I think in Matthew 18 we get a cut-and-dried version of dealing with sin in the church, and many people, myself included, have an idea of this very simple, neat and clean process. In reality, we live in a fallen world and when you have sinners correcting sinners, what started as a loving warning can spiral into ugliness and name-calling faster than, well, than a sinkhole can swallow a bedroom. 

 

I would imagine that man who was unable to save his brother will live with the (mistaken) guilt of that failure his entire life. The same kind of guilt can occur when we fail to rescue a friend falling into the sinkhole of sin. When someone is too stiffnecked (there’s my hoity-toity biblical term for the day) to listen to a friend’s loving warning, we’re instructed to bring one or two others. If they still refuse to alter their course, the situation goes to the church. At that point, if they continue in their sin, they are turned out of the church. Going back to the illustration of a sinkhole, it’s better that they be the only one to fall in than to take others in the church with them. Sin is like a plague, it takes down the carrier, and it’s contagious. 

 

Let’s camp here for a while, because what looks very simple on paper can be very ugly in real life. No one likes to be rebuked, and a wounded pride is like a wounded animal: dangerous and illogical. Many a friendship has been destroyed by one who gives a godly rebuke with an ungodly attitude, or who receives a godly rebuke with an ungodly attitude. At this point it’s easy to say, “If I had minded my own business, I would still have this friendship.” I would argue that if you didn’t care enough to pull your brother or sister back from that sinkhole, you are not truly loving them in a godly way. Proverbs 12:1 says, 

 

Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates reproof is stupid.

 

 

The comfort God has for us, though, lies in the knowledge that we followed His directions and that, even if they haven’t listened, we have done the part of a true friend and given a warning. He promises that His word will not come back void. With that knowledge, then, our responsibility is to trust and pray, and to LET GO. Carrying the responsibility that is God’s will swallow us as surely as a sinkhole. 

What if Money didn’t Matter?
(Please click title to view video)
 

Many people who watch this video will find it inspirational. It has been described as “Life-changing” and “Amazing.” I find it highly disturbing.

The idea of “Look out for number 1” is frighteningly prevalent and highly destructive in today’s culture. The woman (who made national news) who decided she was a “better mom” by leaving her kids and pursuing her own life is only one disturbing example.

We’re told by teachers, therapists, pastors and television, “In order to effectively love others, you must first love yourself.” “You have to take care of you, first.” “You can’t just give and never take.” Or my personal favorite, “Follow your heart. If it doesn’t feel good, it isn’t.”

Let’s disregard everything Scripture says on self-centeredness for a moment, and come at this from a purely neutral, logical standpoint.

I’m twenty-something, going on 5 years of marriage, two kids, a cat, and a husband who works for “the man.” (Read, too many hours, not enough money) Some days, I’m alone with the kids (both under the age of 3) for 12 or more hours at a time. By the time my husband comes home, all I want is to get away from the chaos. He, on the other hand, has had customers yelling at him, equipment showing up late, phones ringing off the hook, and coworkers complaining all day. All he wants is to be left alone, and all I want is a little conversation that doesn’t include Elmo, poo-poo, or ABC’s. Who gets to look out for number 1? If we both insist on it, at least one person (probably both) is going to end  up very unhappy.

It’s good to know what you desire. It’s good to know what you want out of life, marriage, parenthood, your career, your faith, and anything else that’s a part of your life. It’s also important to know that sometimes, I come last.

I am NOT talking about wearing yourself out until there’s literally nothing left. I AM talking about chucking the self-absorption that is spreading through pop culture like a cancer. If you have a family, sorry. They come first. (Um, Guys? This is NOT just for Mom.) If you’re married, there is none of this “50%” nonsense. Everyone has to give 100%, or your marriage will be a disaster. You have kids? Then what the *bleep* are you doing going out every single night? I don’t care if it’s to the club or to church, children need parents. Not one parent, not babysitters that are like family, not even loving grandparents (not only grandparents, anyway). They. Need. Parents. Your desires come after their needs.

Basically, it all boils down to this: Your desires are important, but your responsibilities come first.

“Let each esteem others as better than himself”

“The last shall be first and the first, last”

“Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor”

Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody’s face but their own. 
Jonathan Swift

 

Mr. and Mrs. Smith lived at 123 Maple Street in Typical Suburb. They had a blonde, blue-eyed son who played every sport his public school would let him, and a daughter, slight and brainy with raven tresses and almond eyes, adopted from terrible poverty and squalid conditions somewhere in Asia. They lived very comfortably, what with Mr. Smith’s income and Mrs. Smith’s government assistance for her documented disability, and in addition to their home on Maple Street they had a time-share in St. Augustine.

On this beautiful fall day, Mrs. Smith reminisced about the point in time when they weren’t sure they could afford the beach bungalow. Her doctor had insisted she had no disability, and if she were to eat more vegetables and take the stairs occasionally, she would be cured. “We showed him!” she thought to herself. It had taken months, and expert witnesses and personal testimony and character references, but the court had finally realized that she was a victim of bad parenting and a glandular condition that forced her to drink at least 10 large colas a day. Now everything was set right. The cola company paid for her diabetes treatment, the government paid her what she could have been making if she was able to work, and the doctor retired in disgrace after paying all her legal fees, plus compensation for her emotional distress.

Mrs. Smith smiled to herself as she hung the blue placard in her windshield, “All has been made right.” she murmured as she lowered her 450-pound frame into the motorized shopping cart.

Mr. Smith, unbeknownst to his wife, was doing some reminiscing of his own from his cubicle in the City. He remembered his childhood in Midwest Farm Town with great fondness, and often wondered what his family would think if he took them back to visit with him one year. But Mrs. Smith wouldn’t like his parents’ house, all the bedrooms were upstairs. If there was one thing Mrs. Smith hated it was an upstairs bedroom. And All-American Boy wouldn’t be able to miss his summer practices for something as trifling as a vacation. Exotic Adopted Daughter might enjoy the visit, but his parents were very strict on gender roles, and she couldn’t be exposed to such a female-denigrating environment as the wearing of aprons and baking of pies might foster. No, perhaps it was for the best that his family stayed in Typical Suburb for now. Although, someday, he’d like his parents to meet their grandchildren.

All-American Boy had no idea what was breaking over the horizon as he and his friends passed their customary bong during lunch hour. The foremost issue on his mind was a plan to legalize recreational LSD.

Exotic Adopted Daughter journalled her pain and angst over the mystery of her birth and adoption in her math class, and expressed a wish for free abortions worldwide so that unwanted children wouldn’t have to suffer the way she did. Then she realized that the ink from her gel pen was dripping on her A&F jeans and expressed her doubts as to the pen’s parentage, sexuality, and intelligence. Exotic Adopted Daughter received an award and scholarship for her journals.

The pen was offended and wandered off to become a spitwad shooter.

Unfortunately for the Smith family, their next-door neighbor believed so whole-heartedly in extra-terrestrial life that he converted his house into a spaceship and when he took off at 3 o’clock in the morning (so as not to arrive on Mars in the middle of the night), the thrusters he had installed in his foundation enveloped the whole block in fire and brimstone, leaving none to tell the tale. 

A Rant on Social Media

So, today we have a slight divergence from the topic of parenting, but not really all that far. It’s been brought to my attention that social media is no longer the domain of college students and angsty highschoolers. More and more often I’m getting friend requests from friends’ parents or grandparents, even my own grandparents! Then I realized that I no longer qualify for the college-age crowd, and suddenly 25 doesn’t look quite so old or out of touch. However, I do think some guidelines are in order, because apparently people in their 40s think that social media gives them the right to express themselves like they are in their teens. So here it is, one part rant, one part how-to, and one part Miss Manners.

 

Alissa’s Etiquette Guide for Social Media:

 

Rule #1: “They are” is not equal to “their” which is not equal to “there.”

Rule #2: Mothers, teachers, pastors, youth leaders, teenagers, husbands, wives, grandparents or anyone else, for that matter, should never post anything about breasts, their own or otherwise.

Rule #3: The English language is a very complex and beautiful thing. If you are going to use it, use it correctly.

Rule #4: Profanity is ignorance, verbalized. If you can’t think of a better way to express yourself, be quiet or grab a dictionary.

Rule #5: Post as if everyone two generations above and below you will read it, because they probably will.

Rule #6: Post as if your pastor and your boss will read it, because they probably will.

Rule #7: Post as if that creepy guy you dated in highschool will read it, because he probably hacked your account and reads everything you post.

Rule #8: If for some reason you’re dumb enough to do something illegal, and if for some reason you’re dumb enough to video it or let your ‘friends’ video it, DO NOT POST IT. Post as if your local police will read it, because they probably will.

Rule #9: There is absolutely no reason in the world to post a new picture of yourself every day. There is even less reason to post a new picture of yourself scantily clad every day. There is also no reason to post pictures of your house/dog/children/cat/food/plants/fish/canary every day, either.

Rule #10: Post unto others as you would have others post unto you. In our virtual world and global community, lives can be changed in an instant by one thoughtless word. What is funny to you may be devastating to someone else, and once posted, can never be fully expunged.

 

Let’s introduce a new era of Thoughtful Facebooking… so that future generations don’t think that everyone in 2012 talked and spelled like LOL catz. 

Dear Mom,Forgiv…

Dear Mom,

Forgive me if this letter is a bit fragmented, I had an extra-strong coffee this morning.

I was reading a great book on parenting the other night. It was 10 o’clock, both kids were sound asleep, and Hubby and I finally had some alone time. So what do we do? He plays Portal 2, and I read up on teaching character development to your toddler. So I’m reading this book by the light of the computer screen, because if I turn on a light Baby Adelaide will instantly wake up and start talking to the stuffed animal hanging from her bassinet hood, and I have this epiphany. And not one of those good epiphanies, like, “Hey, I think I’ll invent a social network that will go global in a matter of months.” No, it was one of those epiphanies that makes you want to curl up and sleep for the next eighteen years.

Let me preface by saying that it had been a long day. My day started with one kid missing the diaper completely and filling the highchair, and the other tripping and for some reason not catching himself with his arms, but his nose. Naps were spotty, to say the least, and toilet training went south when, in the split second between when I took him off the potty to flush and turned around again, well, let’s just say I ended up washing the shower mat.

So, in desperate need of encouragement, I turned to “Raising Great Kids”. That’s when it hit me.

IT DOESN’T GET EASIER

I think I had been functioning under the impression that, as my children grew and became more self-sufficient, parenting would get easier. Reading Dr. Townsend’s advice for dealing with tantrums, limits, and integrating love into discipline, though, the thought occurred to me: This doesn’t sound easier, it sounds harder! I was staggered. By which I mean, I staggered into Jude’s bedroom to find the misplaced binky and pop it back into his mouth. Then I staggered back into my room and announced my realization to my husband. And get this, the man just looks and me and says, “Yeah? And?”

At this moment I realized something else.

I need to leave him alone with the kids more often.

I think we focus so much on the struggles we have right now, that sometimes we (By ‘we’ I mean ‘I’) forget the big picture. I’m raising kids, but I’m creating adults. I’m molding the type of parents my children will be. I’m setting standards that will affect them the rest of their lives. It’s a big responsibility, and I think sometimes I don’t take it seriously enough.

All babies need is love. They need to be fed, cuddled, and kept warm. Toddlers need a little more, elementary school kids, even more, and so on. I think God planned it that way to break us in easy. I also think it’s time to step up my game. Maybe read another book instead of turning on “Super Why”. Maybe eat a carrot myself (bleh!) when I tell him to eat his. Maybe even take words like “butt” and “dang” out of my vocabulary. And you know what? It’s the best feeling in the world to realize that this little person is learning from me. He is mimicking me. No, it doesn’t get easier, but it’s totally worth it.

Thanks for raising me, Mom.

Your Daughter