Cutest Birthday Card Ever
/
*Love you, Bee. You've turned me into a great speller and you've teached me lots of things. Love, Kari
study in contrasts
/A little further proof for the theory that children raised in the same home, according to the same rules, can turn out very differently:
There are chidlren in my house who cannot find their beds at night for all the stuff everywhere. And there are children who make their beds practically before their feet touch the floor in the morning and then send texts like this on the way to soccer practice:
God bless you, Stephen. We marked the page and put the book beside your bed.
Social Media, Teenagers, and the Meaning of Life
/I’ve spent entirely too much time on Facebook and Twitter lately. I’m not on my own pages for more than a few minutes a day, but I follow my teenagers carefully. Supervision of social media is a parenting responsibility being trailblazed by my generation. There is no guidebook. No one has gone before us. And, honestly, the landscape changes almost daily. While I’d much rather be outside gardening than wading through the tweets of every teenager in town and many teenagers in far-flung places, it has afforded me an interesting perspective on life as a teenager in this new century.
Please read the rest here.
But then come back!
I want to keep discussing this one.
My favorite post ever on Facebook and teenagers is this one, by Danielle Bean, written on the occasion of her eldest joining Facebook. I love it all, but what astounded me when I first read it and what continues to amaze me is Danielle's ability to see the pitfalls before Kateri even ventured onto the Facebook teen world. That's one wise mama on the 'net.
We all need to wise mamas on the 'net. And the big hurdle we have to overcome is that it moves so quickly and it's all so new that anticipating where our children may get tripped up is not nearly as easy as Danielle makes it look.
Clearly, I understand that learning to use social media during one's teenaged years is a necessary education. And, despite reports to the contrary, I'm definitely not social media hater. I went to Facebook reluctantly and I actually really like it there. I surprise myself with that statement. I went to Twitter (with Danielle's help), and honestly, I'm sure I don't quite get it. I can say the same thing, at the same time, on Twitter and Facebook and Facebook peeps chatter away, while Twitter folks (I will not call them Twits or Tweeps) ignore it. Go figure. I adore Instagram and the smallish circle of folks who brighten my days there.
Finally, my biggest assurance to people that I'm not anti-social media is the fact that a great deal of celebrating happened here when eldest son was named Director of Social Media for Sports at USAToday. In a moment, all the wrangling over Myspace and the steep learning curve we both climbed almost ten years ago seemed worth the time and effort. That said, the age of Facebook and Twitter entry in our house was raised substantially when a new 13-year-old said something ridiculously stupid and was erased from the face of internet interaction until he's old enough to drive. We're still learning here, folks.
My time watching what my kids say on social media is time well spent. I know that. It's also disconcerting. I want to tape Danielle's list on every computer in the house, somehow attach it to every smart phone. I can't tell you how many times I look at my husband (who knew me well in high school) and say, "I'm so glad I didn't leave an electronic record of that." And he will knowingly wink and concur.
My kids have seen me dissolve into a puddle of tears while staring at a computer screen. They've witnessed what social media can do to a reputation over the course of a single weekend. And I am aware that I set the example here, even as I make mistakes.
One thing I've learned and one thing that serves me really well is to walk away. I've learned to shut it all down for two or more days at a time and regain perspective that comes from looking into real faces and up at the wide open sky. I have learned how important it is to my mental health to be hands-free. I try to stay away from the internet on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. For me, I find that three days in a row proves to be the most beneficial. Over time, I've tweaked it a bit. I make an exception for posting to Instagram, mostly because I find myself with lots of capture-able moments on the weekend because I'm mostly away from my screen. I love my iPhone most of all for its camera:-) And, after I missed the opportunity to meet a far-off friend on the spur of the moment, I learned to check my email occasionally, too. Obviously, I pre-program blog posts. Mostly though, I back away--way away--from the screen for a three day weekend every week.
I wish I could teach my children how valuable that break is. Here's the thing: when you feel most sad or discouraged or downtrodden, that's when you most need to click the whole thing closed and unplug. You're not going to find consolation on the internet. Stop looking for it there. Find it where Augustine did.
Monday Moments
/{These Monday moments? Jotted down on Sunday. Full of prom pictures. There's a Grandma in Florida who wants to see them all. Please indulge her, y'all.}
I find myself:
::noticing God's glory
Morning walks are full of signs of new life. Little buds, new leaves, berries not yet ripe. There are ducklings and goslings in the lake and I think some new bunnies under the hedges. The weather was absolutely glorious this weekend.
::listening to
Sarah and Karoline playing "Prom." Kristin came over as the pre-prom bustle started bustling. She spirited the little girls upstairs for hairdos and makeup and manicures and pedicures. Then they put on dress up clothes. This is the (new) game that will never end.
::clothing myself in
Cropped jeans, my favorite gray shirt and a big apron with strawberries on a field of black. This apron best hides beet stains and roasted beets are on the menu for dinner tonight.
::talking with my children about these books
Since I'm going to share my own reading on Thursdays at needle and thREAD, I thought I'd share some reading from our family's choices.
Mary Beth and I are digging into the free Grace Livingston Hill downloads on Kindle. She didn't get terribly excited about hers but I read mine cover-to-cover over the weekend. Happy sigh. This is remarkable because it is only the second fiction book outside of books for my children's education that I've finished since 1990. It's also the second book I finished last week:-).
I used to read fiction voraciously. Then I got cancer. I never finished a fiction book on my own again. I'm not sure why and I haven't spent much time analyzing it. Partly, it's because I hate conflict and every good book has some conflict. But that's not the all of it.
Whatever it was, I'm cured! I've begun my second Grace Livingston Hill book and I'll also be back tomorrow to share with you the very first fiction-for-mama book I've read in the last two decades.
::thinking and thinking
On Saturday, Patrick hurt his knee. We don't yet know how big a deal it is, but our hearts stood still in the moment, for sure. I was dispatched to drop in on Hilary and let her know that plans for prom would most definitely change. I interrupted the merry afternoon she had planned to ready herself for the big dance to tell her that Patrick was going to go on crutches. He wasn't to drive and he'd have to be really careful. What's more, he might be a little preoccupied, because knees are rather important to boys who plan on soccer careers.
She responded with nothing but concern for him, with absolute certainty that they'd change whatever plans necessary, and the assurance that if it was in his best interest, they didn't have to go at all.
For his part, he determined not to show any sign of pain, not to take any pictures with crutches, and to dedicate the evening to making her smile.
And smile she did.
They went to dinner at the home of friends and then, after dinner and before the dance, paid a visit to Mike's parents so that Patrick's grandparents could take in the glorious sight they were.
It was an early evening as proms go, but the memory will linger happily a long, long time.
::giving thanks for
a sweet girl whose blue eyes brim, not because she's sad for herself, but because she cares so much about my boy.
::pondering prayerfully
When Mother Teresa received the Nobel Peace Prize, she was asked, "What can we do to promote world peace?" She answered "Go home and love your family."
::carefully cultivating rhythm
Hah! A few weeks ago, I ordered a big box of curriculum kinds of things. I explained to a friend that my thought was that I wanted an underpinning of things that would happen everyday--a little grammar, a little math, a little handwriting, a little spelling, some foreign language. I prefer more creative endeavors, and many days we do those, but I wanted something that would be there whatever came.
My words to my friend were, "I just want to be sure we hit the rhythm of learning even on the Mondays when I get up and say, 'Nicky hurt himself in Sunday's match. I'm off the doctor-xray-doctor. Just do the regular and keep things going.'"
We're going to test that this morning. Insert Paddy instead of Nicky and Saturday instead of Sunday. Here we go.
::creating by hand
We shall see. I've been known to accomplish quite a lot in medical waiting rooms.
::learning lessons in
trust.
::encouraging learning
I'm endeavoring to make sure that one day a week is dedicated to learning out of doors. From now until it's way too cold. Every week. Promising myself.
::begging prayers
for all the people who have joined our weekend prayer community. I carried your requests with me to Mass and I will keep a candle lit for you throughout the week. Elizabeth DeHority has left an update in last weekend's combox, for those of you who are continuing to hold her in prayer.
for lonely missionaries.
for Patrick.
for the repose of the soul of my Aunt Christina, who died this morning.
for baby Truman, who drowned in a few inches of water in a bucket this weekend, but was revived. Won't you watch and wait with us, keeping Truman, his doctors, and his beautiful family in your unceasingly prayers?
:keeping house
Patrick is going to re-write the chore chart. Mine is not working.
::crafting in the kitchen
I ended up not going to the dance competition. Mary Beth's Saturday dances were shifted to Sunday and she went with Hilary and her mom. I stayed home with Patrick, changed out ice packs, and tried to be positive and cheerful. I gathered the first herbs from our kitchen garden to make roast chicken. We're having carmelized rosemary sweet potatoes and a spinach salad with beets and bacon dressing. Sunday dinners are wonderful, aren't they?.
::loving the moments
when I wonder if my heart could be any fuller.
::living the liturgy
We are using 33 Days to Morning Glory in preparation for Marian Consecration on the Feast of the Visitation. Soon!
We'll celebrate Pentecost Sunday this coming weekend. My plans are just taking shape, but I know that Saturday's soccer will take us to Poolesville and that means we'll pick strawberries to be a part of a 7-fruit salad. I love the feast of Pentecost, but I admit to being a little sad this year to see the Easter season end.
::planning for the week ahead
When a week begins with an 8 AM appointment to the team doctor, followed by an MRI, I hesitate to make plans.
{Photo credit? Who knows? Some are mine; some are Hilary's mom's. Some might even be Stephen on my iPhone.}
Bully Reading and Ruffle Bumps
/I used to think that bullying was not a concern of mine. My image of a bully was one of a big guy on the blacktop during recess, picking on the little guy with glasses. Since there was no blacktop recess in the lives of my children, I didn't worry too much about bullying. I was so wrong.
In the last two months, I've learned quite a bit about bullying. I've learned that the more likely vehicle in my children's lives is not a basketball thrown at them, but a cell phone heavily armed with foul language and pointed mean messages. I've learned that the bully isn't necessarily a big grade school boy, but may be a teenaged girl. Not that boys are immune; they are bullies, too, and bullying is just as likely to happen at soccer practice in a pleasant suburban neighborhood with private school and homeschool boys as on the public school blacktop. Oh yes, we are learning about bullies in lots of venues and from several angles.
Most of all, I've learned that homeschooling doesn't matter one whit when it comes to bullying. To say this surprised me is an understatement. The things I'm learning! Homeschooled kids are bullied and homeschooled kids are bullies. All of a sudden, it's very much my business.
So, I'm reading Dear Bully: Seventy Authors Tell Their Stories. It's an anthology of essays written by accomplished authors, mostly authors for teens. Every perspective is represented here: the bully, the bullied, the bystander. So far, it's an interesting read, but not something I'd hand to tweens and definitely something that I'd read with teens.
In the knitting department, I planned to knit for hours as I waited for soccer games on Sunday and finish this scarf at last. But I got stuck on picking up the wrapped stitches (can you see them there?). I have some different directions and I'm hoping to conquer them tonight and then just cruise to the end. Once the wrapped ones are all picked up, I have to knit front, back, and front again in all two hundred stitches, to give me a three hundred stitch ruffle. That's a very long stretch of ruffly happy. I'm very eager to get there.
{Good news: I think the comments are working again. Yay!}
