Dear Children,

I know you are upset at Mommy for denying you access to Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I know it seems unfair when your peers get to participate in something you are not allowed to do. But your mommy is old fashioned. She was born before the internet. She was born before cell phones. Or digital cameras. Or digital cameras on cell phones.

And, oh my goodness, is she ever so grateful for this.

Because you see, children, Mommy made a lot of bad choices. A lot of bad mistakes. And there are people out there that want to see those mistakes. They feed off of it. And Mommy is so thankful to have been born at a time when these mistakes were not so easy to see. To witness. To chronicle forever.

I am going to try to protect you from this immediate gratification, perplexing world.

For as long as I am able.

And I know it does not seem fair.

But your brains are still developing. There are things you might say. Pictures you might post. Those could haunt you forever. As your parent, it is my obligation to help you make correct choices.

So, no, dear children. You will not have access to these instant social circumstances invading our internet. Not while I am in charge of you. Not while you live with me.

Because, children, you are going to make mistakes.

Big mistakes.

Hopefully, not too big…

I want you to have to deal with those in your heart and not on a page. Where someone else can judge. Write something. Punish you forever.

I choose this because I love you.

You tell me, “When I turn eighteen, I am getting a facebook account.”

And I know you will. (If there still is such a thing).

I also hope you remember the lessons I am trying to teach you. That you should think before you act. Think before you post. Think before you take that picture.

It cannot be taken back. And “forever” is a scary word in this world that cannot see the future.

But, regardless of what you do:

In this instant world, I love you every day.

Every second.

Every instant.

* I recently learned my children are googling my blog. Which is sweet. Very sweet. But I also want to know that they are learning something from me besides simple recipes and pretty clothing. These letters are real letters to my children. From their mother. You might not agree with my message, but please respect my sentiment.