Dear Kid,

I was browsing Facebook (shocking, I know) and found a very interesting thought a friend of mine had posted:

So many things to say, but not one reason in the world to say them. Don’t you just wish this thought occurred to more people before they started typing????!!!! Just saying….

What was even more interesting to me were the comments people shared (and no, none of the comments were from me).

Commenter 1: When my son (now 21) first got Facebook, as “good” parents, we insisted on being his friend so we could monitor what he was doing and who he was conversing with. Early on, he had a post and I commented on it. Shortly thereafter, he came downstairs and said, “Mom…don’t write on my wall. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” This has become our family mantra. I wish more people would take a minute to think about this before saying things they probably shouldn’t.

Commenter 2: I just heard on NPR that a teacher is sharing this acronym with her students: W.A.I.T. which stands for Why Am I Talking? If it serves no useful purpose, why talk?

Commenter 3: I have an opinion on everything. My very wise husband says, “yes, (sweetheart)….you are entitled to your opinion – but not everyone wants to hear it”

Just because you think something, does not mean you are required to share it for everyone and their brother to see (and by “everyone and their brother” I mean everyone on the planet who’s ever thought of being anywhere near social media).

What do you think? Are you entitled to say anything you think? Or should you show restraint?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I love my phone. Even with the huge spider-web of cracks, it’s purple and it lets me text and make calls.

But that’s not what I wanted to tell you about.

Last night I went to a Meetup (yep, I’m cool and I went to a meetup) at Ahalogy (yep, I’m hip and I was at Ahalogy) where I met Susan (WHAT a generous soul—you can find her at www.workingmomsagainstguilt.com) and Amy (who was the cheerleader for some new ideas for me which will probably keep me awake for the next three nights—you can find her at www.ahealthylifeforme.com/) and a bunch of other people (you’re going to have to pile on the mom-love to get mentioned) and where I drank too much caffeine (if I didn’t care so much about punctuation this entire blog would be one sentence because that’s how it is in my head).

I did not eat an entire pizza while I was there (I had one slice) and I did not eat a cookie while I was there (“a cookie” means an entire cookie and these things were big enough to feed a small nation so I had a part of a cookie). I did get to show someone photos of the giant quarter. And I got to learn a lot about social media, blogging, and how to do things that will embarrass you greatly. But again, that’s not today’s topic.

The point (and yes, my dearest, there is a point) is that Ahalogy’s offices are located in a part of town I don’t frequent. Actually, it would be more accurate to say it’s a part of town I don’t ever.

Since I had no idea where I was going, I looked up directions before heading out. I am on top of things.

Only I forgot to write down directions to get home.

And for reasons that escape me entirely, I haven’t figured out how to get my phone to give me directions.

You—I know—have no problem with this. You say, “Phone, I need directions to XYZ” and it gives you clear and concise directions. Dad says, “Phone, I need directions to ABC” and poof! there are directions to ABC.

I say, “Phone, pretty please, might you take a small bit of your data and show me the way home?” and my phone laughs. Generally it guffaws. Last night it giggled so hard it fell off the seat, landing in my purse where it glowed contentedly the entire way home.

Fortunately, I have an excellent sense of direction so the 23 minute trip only took an hour and a half.

Did I mention my phone is purple?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

If you happened to be around on this day in 1875, you might have noticed something interesting in your Twitter feed. Like that you had a Twitter feed. #TimeWarp

You might also have noticed that the Big News was that Captain Matthew Webb became the first person to swim the English Channel. #ChannelSwim

Training in Those Days was different than it is today. Webb drank brandy, coffee, and beef tea during his 21 hour and 45 minute swim. #SwimDrunk

He also smeared himself with porpoise fat for insulation. #WetSuitsAreBetter

This story does not have a happy ending. #FairWarning

After surviving jellyfish (long live sea turtles!!) and whatnot, Webb was celebrated as a hero. Not too long after that, Webb discovered that his accomplishment was “so yesterday.” #NoOneCares

But Webb liked being in the spotlight #BadChoices and decided to be an inventor. #NoOneCaresAgain

Eventually, Webb came to the US because we love crazy people. In order to prove himself hashtag-worthy (#NotSoMuch), Webb decided to swim a treacherous part of the rapids at Niagara Falls (a part known for its people-eating whirlpool). #CrazyStoopid

The locals #PeopleWhoKnowOfWhatTheySpeak told him it was suicide because over 80 people had died there. #NotAPopularTouristAttraction Webb declined to decline and 5 days later his body was found. #WeToldYouSo

#AvoidStupid

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

We had a very disappointing dinner this weekend.

I decided we should go out. Pi kindly provided a list of 57 possible restaurants. I consulted Yelp! and began a thorough analysis of not ridiculously expensive Italian places.

Based on 614 independent factors and a little bit of eeny-meeny, I chose Cucinova. Cucinova got great ratings on Yelp! They serve pizza, pasta, and salads and you get to pick your own ingredients (think Italian Chipotle).

I had penne, Dad and Pi had salads (the key ingredient in the proteins and the roasted veggies is pepper which explains why Dad made the salad choice). The meals were served in heavy paper bowls that clearly said compostable (both in feel and in the pressed message on the bottom of the bowls).

My whole life has been spent waiting for an epiphany, a manifestation of God’s presence, the kind of transcendent, magical experience that let’s you see your place in the big picture. And that is what I had with my first compost heap. Bette Midler

There was no compost bin in the restaurant. None.

This did not sit well with your sister.

Not at all.

Especially since Cucinova is right next to Fusion where they have a whole compostable/recycling message.

The average US. Household generates 650 lbs. of compostable materials each year.

So not only did Pi ask the mostly indifferent staff (except the dude who made our meals—he was awesome) where their compost bin was (they didn’t have one and didn’t seem to care much) she started tweeting.

Kinda strange that @Cucinova has compostable bowls but no compost bin. #SaveThePlanet

As of this writing that one tweet has gotten 4 RTs, almost 40 favorites (we’re trying to hit a record—please feel free to retweet or fave), and no response from @Cucinova. Which goes to show why monitoring your social media accounts is not a 5 day 40 hour responsibility.

“Why,” says Pi, “would you go to the trouble and expense of buying compostable bowls and then NOT have a compost bin??”

I’m queen of my own compost heap and I’m getting used to the smell. Ani DiFranco

I raised good kids.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I just re-read the blog Social Media Doesn’t Mean You Are Required to Be Rude. It was the second blog ever published here on DearKidLoveMom, and it is still one of the most often read posts.

As I begin working on social media for TEDxCincinnati (yep, I’m their social media person—you may feel free to be impressed. I’m personally thrilled and amazed), I’m looking at social media in a slightly new light. I’m working with new people and we’ve got a (mostly) whole new audience.

Because of all the newness, I decided doing some research about social media might be in order. And by “research” I mean re-reading my old blog and talking to a few friends.

Turns out, my wisdom from two years ago is just as relevant (perhaps even more relevant) today as it was then. As we become increasingly electronic (Apple Watch?), we need to be even more vigilant about what we put in our e-communication.

Tone of voice is easy to interpret when you can hear it (and by “easy” I mean you have a shot at getting it right). Tone of voice is very easy to misinterpret when you read it (and by “misinterpret” I mean make it be whatever your mood wants it to be).

Tone—in spoken communication—is about the speaker, not the listener (ok, a bit about the listener). Tone—in written communication—is about the reader, not the writer.

After receiving two emails this week from someone saying that I hadn’t given them the right information and replying to both that I had, I finally went over to the person. “Oh, I figured it out—you were right,” he said. “Glad you got,” I replied. “But please stop yelling at me.” “I wasn’t yelling,” he said.

Except he was. And I still haven’t really gotten over it.

My issue, I know. But his issue too. I don’t think he thought he was yelling. But I also doubt he thought through the effect his communication style would have.

A little thought and a little politeness go a long way.

Love, Mom

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