YouTube. What a phenomenon–loaded with information and a platform for upcoming star-hopefuls. At times, I’ve used the site’s biology, historical, or inspirational videos for teaching purposes in our homeschooling day. I’ve listened to a few songs posted and I’ve followed a link or two from a friend to a must-see video. But what I read about recently in a newspaper article about the trend of new YouTube videos, shocked me. Self-injury.

I knew there were graphic videos of all varieties posted on YouTube that I would never wish to view, but I had no idea of this glamorization of an issue that commonly plagues so many young people. Over 5,000 such videos were found by one psychologist and from just 100 videos focused on, the viewer count exceeded 2 million. Sheer tragedy is all that came to mind.

I think of all society’s teens and young adults struggling to make it through this difficult journey called life … many searching for answers. They need information to help and encourage them to travel in a positive direction, not give them more avenues to throw their hands up in defeat.

I know as parents we can’t overturn society’s access to these hidden dangers in an internet hub, but we can make a difference in our own families. A few years ago we chose to limit the YouTube access for our teen. It was a mutual decision we made with our daughter as we all recognized the dangers of such a wide range of information–completely unfiltered and accessible.

It’s not about isolating our children from the realities of this world, but instead teaching them positive tools to cope in life without barraging them with destructive choices displayed on a computer screen. Our daughter isn’t naïve to the realities as we talk about them openly.

There are no cookie cutter answers, but as parents we need to be informed. We need to be the source of information for our children. Society is ready to offer them a variety of solutions to their problems. Are we ready to teach healthy parameters and positive alternatives? Let’s get informed and be proactive.

My husband and I had a wild idea some time back that we could make our daughter a platform bed and headboard. “How hard can it be?” we said. From sample pictures found online, we drew rough plans, took measurements, bought supplies, and began.

Well, actually here’s where it gets fuzzy. Beginning for me and my husband are two different things. I take off immediately. I may not know how all the pieces fit together, but I know the measurements and I’ll get there … eventually … maybe after a few mishaps, reattaching, or ripping out of boards along the way. My husband takes off slowly. He thinks, ponders, evaluates, and builds the bed completely in his mind many times over, analyzes potential pitfalls and a variety of solutions for each. And that’s before any building starts!

My husband was making the bed and I had painting duty at the end, so the “beginning phase” took about twenty months while the novelty of sleeping on a mattress on the floor wore off for our daughter. (Thankfully she doesn’t like high beds, so the floor was a good backup.)

Then the actual building phase began swiftly–after all my husband had anticipated every potential obstacle that could happen. My painting phase took twice as long as I expected due to relearning the technique and a slow drying time due to cold weather. In the end, just shy of two years later, our daughter’s bed was complete.

When she saw it all set up in her room, she screamed. “It’s just what I wanted. I love it!” We marveled at how awesome it looked and she laid on it to give the bed a hug. Everyone was happy.

Even though we’ve done many home remodel projects together that took far less time, I learned more how to appreciate the differences between my husband and me. We compliment each other. The bed looks great and is incredibly sturdy–completely to the credit of all my husband’s pondering, analyzing, and thinking over every angle. It got completed by the gentle nudging of the go-getter in me and of course my fashionista perspective shined in the indigo denim painting.

We may not be furniture makers and may never make another bed again, but we learned a lot by stretching ourselves.

“No offense Mom, but it will be a Mom-Free Zone while you’re gone,” my daughter announced last week. None taken. I knew what she meant. As I went to a four day writer’s conference, she and my husband had time to themselves … Mom-Free.

No reminders mid-sentence to brush her teeth. No bionic ears to know when she’s eating snacks right before dinner. No supersonic eyes in the back of the head to know when she’s doing something she shouldn’t. Stay up late. Go out to eat. Eat candy. Mom-Free!

They had a blast and I enjoyed my time of learning and growth. But what I really got a kick out of was Sunday night when we all headed out to make a trip to the grocery store my husband said to our daughter, “Grab your coat please.” She sighed the sigh that I’ve heard so many times before as she turned to get her coat.

“She tried that every time we left the house,” he said to me.

I chuckled. It may have been Mom-Free, but it wasn’t Dad-Free.