This past weekend, my husband and I instilled something radical into our family life.
We reclaimed Sundays.
My childhood reflects a time when retail businesses were closed on Sundays.
Need a quart of milk?
Well, then, wait until Monday my friend.
I grew up in the part of the country that is now Silicon Valley.
San Jose was the land of fertile soil where we picked peaches in the rows and rows of orchards.
In grade school, I was given a Macintosh rainbow icon sticker by a classmate, which I proudly proceeded to adhere to my Trapper Keeper binder.
Mr. Hewlett and Mr. Packard were rumored to be busy creating in Mr. Hewlett’s garage right down the street from my best friend.
Over the years, I have been a willful and enthusiastic participant in every stage of the advancement of technology. In grad school, I was one of the first to purchase a first edition laptop and engage with friends online via Netscape.
You get the idea.
Now I am a parent.
And I’ll be honest with you.
I get concerned.
I get concerned that we have lost the ability to converse with one another.
I love the show Downton Abbey.
I am always so mesmerized by the characters’ ability to disagree during discourse. It can get heated and tantrums are thrown, unfortunate words are said, feelings are hurt,
unlike social media,
no one’s life is utterly destroyed nor immediately idolized
by the comments he/she makes.
I get concerned that the word endurance will be replaced by words such as tweet, blog, snapchat, or …
The thoughts that I formulate – the ones that are fleeting and therefore at the ready for social media – are usually NOT
the ones connected with my heart and soul, nor are they wise or authentic or true.
As a result, it is way too easy to continue to feed the false self
way too easy to postpone the investment in my authentic one.
We have reclaimed Sundays in our home.
We decided that all electronics are off limits.
My desire is to allow for a day a week in which the voices that my daughters not only hear,
are ones that speak solely to their true and authentic selves.
I want to participate in that with them – I want to be one of those voices FOR them.
I want to ensure that their identity is not defined by an avatar.
I want to make sure that their thoughts are not limited to 70 characters.
I want to make sure that they know that their beauty far outweighs a momentary selfie.
I want to make sure that if they fight with each other in the morning, they have the tools they need to have it resolved before their head hits the nightly pillow.
I want to make sure that they can
And quite frankly,
I need that reminder as well.