As a family, we’ve always been one to err on the side of caution when it comes to electronics with our children. If it were up to Jeff and I, without any interference or need from the outside world, we’d keep them locked in a safe little anti-electronics box for the entirety of their childhood. We really would.
But, as it’s wont to do, life has other plans and modern childhood is hard to navigate without at least some level of electronic connectivity. And middle school, it made this crystal clear. We couldn’t fight it any longer. It was time to get my oldest son a phone. Handily defeated, we loaded up Jeff’s old iPhone 5 (because, people, a new phone is not in our plans for this kids life right now) and sent him on his way.
To say that navigating this new stage of life has been a mine field, though, would be very, very, accurate. Mostly because he’s a sneaky ninja genius, who is very hard to outwit, outsmart and outplay. (anyone who tells you parenting is not exactly like a game of Survivor only with more snacks and hopefully less fire is a total liar and you know it). Knowing this since day one of his little baby life, it should have been no surprise when one of my dear friends lovingly alerted me to the fact that my son, though specifically forbidden from doing so, had created a public Instagram profile for himself. Which, by the way, he was smart enough to uninstall every single day so we would not find it in our nightly sweep for internet tomfoolery.
Dillon-1 Parents-0.
To say that my initial reaction to this discovery was not one of my finest parenting moments would be a huge understatement. Because this mom LOST IT. (I have zero regerts** about this, either)
Punishment was swift and severe. He was not happy. It was not pretty. I’m pretty sure he still hates us. On the plus side, though, I’m now a proud new owner of a recently refurbished iPhone 5 with all sorts of ridiculous kid memes and a not-so-secret Instagram account. So there’s that.
And please believe me when I say I have been all over his IG feed, searching vigilantly for signs of weird creepy old men or cyber-bullying. The good news is I haven’t found anything outside of basic kid ridiculousness-pictures of puppies and cheerleading events, memes that are more stupid than funny, and lots and lots of Fortnite references. *Yawn*
The Instastories, though, that’s another ball of wax. Scrolling through those made the awkward middle school Meaghan residing deep inside of my heart (because we all know middle school leaves scars prone to lingering) freak the heck out.
There’s this trend, see, mostly among girls (who I’m guessing are popular) towards interactive Q&A’s stories, largely ridiculous (what should I eat for dinner? Pink or Blue rubber bands for my braces?) and mostly innocent. There’s this one, though, floating around that has middle school drama written all over it. It’s a simple question, really. But it made me cringe, literally cringe, as I scrolled.
“How much do you think I like you?”
Y’all. This is such a loaded question. Think about it. You’re ELEVEN. You desperately want people to like you. You are not at all sure if they do. Heck, at eleven you might not even be sure YOU like YOU. But you really, really, want acceptance from your peers. It’s the absolute most important thing in your life. So the question posed, it’s so WEIGHTY.
Weighty enough that I know my eleven year old self would have agonized over my response (and believe me when I tell you there is no way on God’s green earth that I would NOT have responded.) Even as an adult I have no idea what the socially appropriate response to this question really is. I know what I want people to think of me. But do I actually dare to assume they do? And admit it to them in public? I have no idea.
The worst part, though, wasn’t the question. It was 100% what was done with it. 
Because each and every girl who asked, well, they didn’t let those responses (and there were a lot of them) go unchecked. Nope. They shared screen shots of every response with either a confirmation or a rejection of the answer and a tag to be sure it was seen.
Y’all….this made my heart explode with anxiety. Can you imagine? You are eleven. You are awkward. You are unsure of your standing in life. And then, your best friend from elementary school responds to you, via Instastory, telling the world they don’t like you quite as much as you think they do because, well, you don’t really hang out as much anymore so you’re not really friends. Or the crush you have been harboring since fourth grade responds telling you, no she does not, in fact, like you very much because, “you’re weird in third period and I don’t know why you do the things you do.” (both real examples, btw).
Guys……this is not innocent. This is heartbreaking. My heart, it literally broke imagining the earth-shattering impact this could have on someone’s already tenuous self-esteem.
What.the.bloody.heck is going on here?
Yet before I get all up on my high horse and absolutely wreak havoc with words on kids who honestly probably mean zero harm with this game, I should probably examine this all a bit closer, right? Hold it on up to the light so I can hash out my feelings a bit better. And I’m telling y’all this with full and complete transparency, the reason why this stings so darn much is because I do the same thing each and every day. Just with more adult subtlety.
I do it with my Facebook posts. I do it with my Instagram pictures. I do it with the words I craft and the recipes I make. I’m honestly saying, I want you to like me. I want your acceptance.
Friends, acceptance is a human need. We all crave it, even the most self-assured. But where we look for it, that’s another story. For years, I placed all of my acceptance needs in the hands of other people. Do you think I’m smart? Capable? Pretty? A negative word could topple me. A series of neutral responses, much the same. I needed Instastory-like confirmation of my worthiness. I needed you to tell me you liked me as much as I thought you liked me, or else I was done for.
I’ve learned a lot over the years, mostly from my mistakes. And while I’m no psychological expert or anything, I’m pretty clear on this truth: Putting your sense of self in the hands of other people is a recipe for heartbreak. I’m so crystal clear on this for one reason only, I lived it.
Yes, I’m still a work in progress, and yes, I still really do want you to like me. But I know enough now, after years of muddling through and figuring it out, to realize just how damaging this can be to a person’s heart. I know now that acceptance is a slippery slope, not always one I want to walk and certainly not one I can let make or break me.
I know enough now to know, too, that if God were to have an Instagram account (stick with me here) and if He were ever so bold as to pose that dreadful question, His answer would always surprise me. Because even when I am at my worst, when I’m, say, screaming my head off at my middle schooler for creating and then hiding an Instagram account from me (true story), God’s answer would always be “I like you WAY more than you think I do.” When I’m feeling broken and gross and yucky and my hair is a mess and I have acne His answer would always be “I like you WAY more than you think I do.” And finally, when I answer that question with, “I don’t think you like me at all because I’m such a hot mess,” God would screen shot the heck out of my response and say, “No, my dear, I love you more than you’ll ever know. Hot mess and all.”
This is what matters. Whether you grew up thinking you had to earn God’s love or you don’t even believe in it. Whether you are trying really hard and failing or not trying at all, He accepts you the same. Y’all. This is not religion. This is love. And it’s here for us all.
And let’s cool it with the Q&A’s people. They’re so not cool.
Today, in light of all of my leftover middle school angst, I am sharing with you a decidedly non-middle school pasta. This is a grown up pasta. A palate pleaser for people who crave high flavor yet simplistic meals. This is my go-to pasta when Jeff and I are hungry but I have literally nothing else in the house. This is a recipe that relies heavily on good ingredients (y’all know I don’t like to be all Ina Garten on you, forcing you to spend $75 dollars for the best quality EVOO, but do your best here. It matters). It’s so simple yet it’s so pleasing and comforting. Especially for a pasta lover like myself.
A few notes: I like the interplay of the two cheeses but I’ve made it with just Parm and it’s delicious as well. Use what you’ve got. It’s a spicy dish, so adjust the red pepper to your liking. And don’t forget the pasta water. Always with the pasta water.
Make this. Remember you’re an adult and be glad you’re not eleven anymore.
Peace, love and acceptance,
Meg
**intentionally misspelled. Bonus points for you if you can name the movie.
Paupers Pasta
Ingredients
- 8 ounces spaghetti (or any long thin pasta)
- 3-4 cloves garlic, finely minced
- 1/8 teaspoon crushed red pepper
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- 1/4 cup grated pecorino romano cheese
- 1/4 cup fresh grated parmesan (plus more for serving)
Directions
- Step 1 In a large pot, bring well salted water to boil over high heat.
- Step 2 Cook pasta according to package instructions (err towards the side of firmer pasta), reserving 1/2 cup of pasta water before draining.
- Step 3 Set aside.
- Step 4 In a large skillet, heat oil to shimmering over medium high heat.
- Step 5 Add garlic, red pepper flakes. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring constantly 30 seconds to 1 minute. Do not let the garlic burn (it will be bitter. You’ll smell it if it does)
- Step 6 Once it’s fragrant, add in pasta, tossing to coat.
- Step 7 Stir in cheese and pasta water, a bit at a time, until cheese is melted through and coating pasta like a sauce.
- Step 8 Taste for flavor and salt and pepper as desired.
- Step 9 Serve topped with more cheese and a hearty breath mint for dessert.
- Step 10 Enjoy!
Welcome to BurntToast! My name is Meaghan, and this is my safe space, a place where we can share stories, share recipes and share life. It’s my dream that you can come here, kick your shoes off and pour yourself a glass of wine while you read, laugh, and maybe even hop into the kitchen. This is my heart, for all of you to see. And ALL are welcome here.
Um. 1. Holy cow. I had no idea that was a thing. How disgusting. Poor babies!!! And we wonder what kids have to be so depressed about.
Thank you for reaffirming my decision to not get my little guy a phone yet. We told him 8th grade. HAHAHA We’ll see if we make it that long.
And 2. I can’t wait to make this pasta. It looks so easy and delicious! 🙂
Oh the phone battle is so real. Hold off as long as you can! We felt definite pressure when middle began because they use them in class and he was missing out on certain things. But I regret it. 🙁