It's been a long time since I went on an etiquette rant, and I'm feeling a little crochety today. This time, I want to talk about food, and why specifically we shouldn't talk about it.

But first, a little on me. I am not a small woman. I've been overweight since I was about 5 years old, and hence, subconscious about my food choices and the frequent judgement that goes with them. We live in a culture where skinny women eating junk food hear people say things like, "Oh you're so lucky! You can eat like that and be skinny as a rail!" Overweight people eating the same thing, on the other hand, feel shade thrown at them and hear comments like, "Mmmm... french fries. I would eat those too, but I'm worried about gaining weight."

And while I use junk food in the above example, women aren't exempted from judgement with healthy food choices either. Skinny girls chowing down on a salad get, "OMG - you need to eat something! You're so thin!" and the fat girls get, "Good for you! You're eating something healthy!" (implication: oh, the novelty!). The bottom line is, no matter what a woman chooses to put in her mouth in public, it seems like there's some jackass who feels entitled to comment about it. 

Don't be that jackass. I'm serious. It's rude, and it needs to stop.

Food is nourishment for our bodies. From a nutritional standpoint, there are certainly better and worse ways to pursue that nourishment. And for grown-up folks, how someone chooses to secure nourishment is a personal decision affected by a lot of factors that aren't anyone else's business. Some people, like me, reluctantly turn to fast food lunches way too often because I never seem to have time in the morning to pack something healthy, and for some reason, the drive-thrus are severely lacking in steamed broccoli and quinoa salad. Choking back a cheeseburger doesn't make me feel good about myself, but it makes me feel less hungry in the half-hour I'm allotted for lunch, and sometimes that's the best I can do. If I could schedule my life better and prioritize healthy eating, my lunch choices would definitely change and I would probably be thinner for it. You know what? I already know that. My inner critic tells me that all the time. And I don't need anyone to remind me, thank you very much. Other women have different issues that affect the food on their plate - food allergies, eating disorders, lack of transportation, financial constraints. Still, nobody's business but their own. (Unless you're talking on a macro level, in which case it's a great idea for us to put our heads together and tackle things like public transportation problems, food deserts, and living wages). 

Some anecdotes:

• When I was 6 or 7, I was at a day camp. While sitting on the edge of the stage in the auditorium, a boy asked me why my thighs flattened out to take up more space and his didn't. I still remember what that kid looked like. 
• When I was 10, I joined Weight Watchers for the first time. 
• When I was in high school, one of my teachers told me that I would be pretty if I lost some weight.
• A long time ago, I worked for an employer with rigid workplace food rules and a whole lotta judgement. Employees were actually encouraged to submit their weight and blood panel results for other employees to scrutinize, and were awarded prizes based on their "health." For those of us who weren't "winners," this program was demoralizing, not motivating.

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I know that food commenters don't necessarily mean to be rude. Maybe they are just filling a conversational void. But when I start eating half of a turkey wrap at noon, and you pop in at 12:10 and exclaim, "You've already eaten your lunch? That was quick!" I hear your comment through a filter of a lot of past crap, and I don't come out of it on the other side feeling particularly good about myself. Do you want to initiate a conversation with me? A better topic is the weather. Halloween costumes. The pretty autumn leaves. A funny movie. The trending meme on Twitter. Whatever. The truth is that the majority of American womankind - fat and skinny and everywhere in between - has food issues of some sort. So many of us are fighting raging internal battles every single day. Stop analyzing our food, and stop fueling the fire. 

Volunteer Fire Departments do a thing around here called a Lawn Party. They are huge fundraisers that draw big crowds with the lure of fair food, ferris wheels, and live music. Typically, a Lawn Party is a feel-good event. They are occasions to get out and mingle with your neighbors, to see and be seen. You go home at night tired and dusty, but with a smile on your face. 

Last Friday, as we headed to a birthday party, we got stuck in the middle of a Lawn Party parade for a community on the outskirts of town. Lawn Party parades usually feature Little League teams, local car dealers, a church or two, etc. But this one got hijacked by a bunch of people with nothing better to do than fly Confederate Flags off the back of their trucks. 

I'm a Southerner. I grew up with the Confederate flag, and I know I've spouted some trash about "heritage not hate" in my past (but certainly not in this century!). Somewhere along the line, though, I had a change of heart and an awakening of conscience. I came to understand that the Confederacy is not integral to who I am as a Southerner - that would be things like porch-sitting, hospitality, and scratch biscuits. I came to understand that the Confederate flag is most often used as a symbol of hate.

The display of Confederate flags at what should have been an American-as-apple-pie-life-liberty-pursuit-of-happiness-equality-for-all parade reminded me (again) of recent disheartening conversations about race relations in the U.S. Those conversations are being received in some pretty ugly ways. Black Americans are struggling to be heard - many are fed up and angry by a legacy of racial animus that has cost them their families, livelihoods, and tragically at times, their lives. It's important for everyone, white Americans especially, to remember that when someone is trying to be heard, the civil thing to do is listen. The civil thing is not to run out and purchase a Confederate flag and then fly it in a parade. The civil thing is not to stand one's ground and yell "But, but, but...I'm not the problem" to drown out the protesters. The civil thing to do is really actively listen. Don't interrupt. Don't make excuses. Just listen. 

It's true that listening alone won't stop racial violence. It's true that empathy won't dismantle structural racism. But they are at least good starts, especially when listening leads to introspection. Our communities are full of black activists who are trying to relay critically important messages. I encourage everyone of all racial backgrounds to venture out of your comfy corner of the world, and get plugged into this momentous conversation. 

I know this post has taken a more serious tone than most, but these things have been weighing heavily on me. In addition to my sinking heart at the parade, here's another frustrating anecdote. I came home from the Red Wing Roots music festival to find my neighbor flying a Confederate flag with a crest in the middle that says "The South will Rise Again." My 4-year-old daughter noticed it (it's hard to miss as it flaps directly outside our living room window - ugh), and I had to give her the best explanation I could think of about what the flag was, what it meant, and why our neighbors would choose to fly it. It was a tough conversation for me, and I kept thinking about how devastating it would be if I was a black mother explaining that flag to my black child. Lucky for me, my kiddo still associates flags with sports teams. After my long, thoughtful, drawn-out explanation, she responded with, "Yeah, I don't know why they put that flag up. We don't root for that." 

No sweetie, we don't root for that, and we never, ever will.

We live in a social media crazy world. I'm certainly not immune to it, and I daily get sucked into what's trending on Facebook or Twitter. Ooooh! A bear ate 20 pounds of dog food and then took a nap! And looky-here! An anonymous McDonald's manager reveals on Reddit that there really is a secret menu! Yeah. That "news" is just as dumb as it sounds. (And I'm probably dumber for reading it... at least the McDonald's article, for sure. A fair rule of thumb is that a sleeping bear is always cute, so that one gets a pass.)

That said, one trending article did spark my attention - the one about the diner owner who yelled at a 2-year-old to get her to stop crying. Now I'm not going to go into specifics of that event because I don't want to reward bad behavior. You can do your own Google-sleuthing if you want more details. I'm not going to berate the diner owner, point fingers at the parents, or call out the thousands of "good for you!" internet comment posters for being insensitive and not knowing much about early childhood social-emotional development. I'm not going to do those things because I have certainly snapped my fair share of times when dealing with the nitty gritty of surviving a tantrum. My sympathy for all who experienced grave annoyance in that diner knows no bounds.

Instead, this post is a big ol' bear hug to all of the frazzled parents out there who are just trying to get by, day after day. It's for all of you who want to occasionally pull out your hair or punch yourself in the face, because surely feeling even a painful stinging sensation would be better than listening to incessant whining and crying. 

This is also an olive branch to all of the innocent bystanders who are forced to witness epic pint-sized people nuclear meltdowns. Such extraordinary outbursts can come on suddenly and without warning (so much so that they inspired a hilarious blog, Reasons My Son Is Crying). Tantrums are bewildering, and would be a crazy spectacle to behold if they weren't. so. annoying.  Red faces heating up close to the boiling point. Tears, spit, and snot flinging left and right. Clenched fists, crossed arms, flailing feet, wild eyes. And of course, there's always the hapless mom standing there punching herself in the face. Weird. 

I know what some of you innocent bystanders think. I used to be one of you. Why in the #*&*! WORLD can't s/he control that child?!?!?!? My day sucked, and I don't get to kick, scream, and spit in the check-out line. What gives that kid the right? 

I get it. But here's where empathy comes into play. Children are like wild animals, and parents are actively involved in the process of domesticating them. Much like a pet-owner hopes some day to get their puppy to stop pooping on the rug, parents are trying to get their kids to a point where regulating emotions is just a thing they intuitively do. (DISCLAIMER: I'm not saying kids ARE wild animals. It's a metaphor. Except sometimes they are. I'm a truth teller... I can't help it). Raising responsible human beings is hard work - the process is long and at times an intensely emotionally grating road to trek. Kids lull their parents into submission with sweet kisses, sleepy "I love you" whispers, and cute antics. But you poor innocent bystanders aren't privy to much of that (fact: cute antics are rarely apparent before high-pitched wailing signals DEFCON 1). It's no wonder you want to scream.

We all agree that tantrums suck. That's good news! We have common ground, and that's a good starting place. Next step: before we let our tempers flare let's all try to remember that feeling annoyance in the face of 120 kiddo screaming decibels (above the pain threshold!) is completely normal. Tantrums grate mom's and dad's nerves just as much (if not more) than anyone else's. Instead of snapping (mom,dad, and bystanders alike), try think of some alternative coping mechanisms. Take a deep breath. Walk away. Remove the child from the situation. Look for ear plugs in that checkout aisle. Pull out your hair. Do what you have to do to survive the moment, but remember to be civil about it. Screaming at each other in a restaurant and fueling the fire of a sordid drama on social media is maybe not the best route to take. That's just a grown-up version of a tantrum, and we should be past that by now.

My dad used to say that cheer, and it was always funny - even before I knew what was supposed to rhyme with "rass." But to paraphrase Fezzik from The Princess Bride, kicking an opponent in the knee, or, um, other knee, doesn't seem "very sportsmanlike." 

The kiddo just started tee-ball. We're only a few practices in, so I haven't seen any of the vicious behavior I've heard about in kids' sports. (Let's keep that at bay, shall we?) But the kiddo apparently inherited her father's competitive streak, and discussions of good sports(wo)manship aren't new to our household. I'm sure once we get into the games, we'll talk about how to behave nicely on a field of competition even more. We don't cry when we lose. We don't taunt when we win. We don't cross our arms and refuse to play when things aren't going our way. Say it again. And again. 

That's the rub with good sporting behavior - it needs to be learned and practiced, just like the fundamentals of any game. And it starts with us, the parents. Let's be good role models for our kids, and raise a generation of better (behaving) athletes. Here are some suggestions to get us started.

Ok, maybe my title is a bit misleading. I actually hate to fly because of my imminent fear of plummeting to the earth in a manner beyond my control. In a weird twist, though, I LOVE airports. Even though people behaving badly is a pain when I'm in the midst of it, it is really a lot of fun to watch as a spectator. Hence the popularity of reality television over the years, I suppose. 

I know that some people's travel plans going into spring and summer involve flying, so I thought I would whip up a quick, handy airline etiquette guide (see image above). Here are some suggestions on how to make everyone's travel experience a bit less gnaw-my-arm-off annoying.

A protocol firm called Advancing with Style has declared March to be National Email Etiquette Month (note to self: figure out how to declare September National Give Me Birthday Gifts Month). I'm 100% confident that everyone reading this post has an email account. I'm somewhere in the 80-90% confidence range that everyone has more than one account. And the vast majority of those multi-account folks probably check their email on multiple devices - desktops, laptops, phones, and tablets. The technology frontier sure is a connected place.

That said, email is also a frontier ripe with technological faux pas. You know the feeling. You sit down in the comforting glow of your computer/tablet/phone, click on your email, and then feel an uncomfortable lump rise in your throat when you realize that someone forwarded a sensitive email about the upcoming PTA fundraiser to every parent in the school. Or your boss shot off a missive about the project you're working on and it's written in all capital letters. You think to yourself, "OMG. I am going to be fired!" and then waste 2 hours setting up your Monster.com profile. 

It's easy to hide behind computer screens, and to forget that there's a person on the other end of the email. From the get-go, someone else is using email to dictate your time. And if they're rude about it, you'll feel pretty cranky. Give some thought to email etiquette the next time you fire up your 'puter, and see if there are some ways for you to do better. Be sure to let me know what steps you're taking to make the information highway a more pleasant place! 

I'm a Southerner, and "bless your heart" is my all-time favorite insult, hands down. There are some other doozies as well, like "oh, honey," "how nice for you," and "thanks for sharing." I saw on some blog once that a non-native speaker was really confused about how those those types of phrases could be insults. On paper, well, them seem so nice. Southerners know what makes these insults has to do with one's demeanor, and how a drawl can add just the right inflection to turn sugar into vinegar. 

I draw your attention to Southernism insults as a counterpoint to the kind of filth that surfaces on internet comment feeds. Consider the comment feed explosion that followed a recipe for this super cute tie-dyed rainbow cake. It all started with a simple question about how long one should freeze the batter, and quickly snowballed into snark, profanity, and ill-conceived political sparring. 

I wonder about the people who post such comments. I doubt they are all nasty people. They probably have friends, and family members who love them. They may even have been sitting at work, answering the phone saying, "Good morning. How can I help you?" while simultaneously engaging in conversations like this this super  tame example from the rainbow cake comment apocalypse:

It's Hump Day, and I'm three for three in making the bed this week. Even this morning, when the wee one yelled "Moooooooooooommy" every other word, and seemed incapable of understanding that time is finite, I made the bed presentable.  I have grand plans to actually finish decorating the space by the end of the weekend so that I can reveal to you a beautiful haven of rest, but we'll see about that. 

As for the rest of the challenges... my success thus far has been "meh" at best. Instead of reframing the news, I'm still just ignoring it. I haven't yet tackled any "thank you" notes (although I'm certainly using thank you notes every day... as a mouse pad.)

So, given my stumbles so far, is this week's challenge a good boom or a bad bust? It's GOOD, of course! Why? Because I'm making an effort to move in a good direction. And efforts to propel oneself toward something better than the status quo are always worth doing. 

Tonight I'm going to write some thank you notes. To get in the mood, I did a some Pinterest wandering about what comprises a great note. When it comes down to it, the anatomy of a thank you note is pretty simple. I made a pinnable graphic to help us all keep the basics in mind. Tune in tomorrow for a gratitude update!