Left Behind

Do you remember life before technology? Or at least, life before TiVO, Facebook, i-pods, and the Blackberry? I just have to ask, because I'm pretty sure I was in the midst of my childbearing years when those things became popular. That's the only explanation I have for why I'm such a technological idiot. Clearly, my brain cells were too busy being decimated by pregnancy hormones and motherhood to comprehend the complexities of "lol," "playlists," and "pieces of flair."

I wouldn't worry about it so much (since I've managed to survive thirty-some odd years without the technological marvels of "texting") if I weren't so aware of its possible impact on my children. The way I see it, one of two things is going to happen: 1) my children are going to be technological morons like me; or 2) they're going to be smarter than me. To be honest, I'm not sure which scenario frightens me more. Do I want my children to be unemployed and living in my basement until I die? Or do I want them to think their mother is stupid? Tough call.

Which, incidentally, my children have mastered. Calling, that is. Specifically, calling people with my cell phone. Because if you're a mother, and you have a cell phone, you know that it is physically impossible to keep that phone out of a curious child's hands. I've personally lost two cell phones since becoming a mom. Ella destroyed the first one when she was six months old. Apparently, she slobbered on it so much that her drool corroded the battery and fried the SIM card. About a year later, one of the twins lobbed my replacement phone over the second floor banister of our home; technically the phone still worked, but the display unit was shattered. I called a lot of wrong numbers until my husband finally replaced that phone with my current cell: an enormous, military grade phone that can be dropped from 3 stories and immersed in several inches of water. Since the kids have challenged both of these claims and the phone still works, I highly recommend you MOPs out there visit the local Verizon store and buy one for yourself.

But destruction-prevention isn't my only child/cell phone problem. Nope. I also have to worry about Ty - my 1 year old baby - calling China. Or at least calling my dad, which Ty did this past Sunday morning. My phone rang at about 8:00, and when I picked it up, my dad said, "Did you need something?"

"Nice greeting. And, no. Did you think I sent some telepathic message indicating that I did need something?"

"No, you called me."

"I did?"

"That's what my phone says."

"And you trust your phone over your own daughter? Ohhhhh, wait. Yeah, hold on. I'm pretty sure Ty just called you. There's baby slobber on the earpiece." Thank you, Verizon.

Of course toy manufacturers are very savvy when it comes to the whole child/cell phone craze, which is why there are dozens of toy cell phones flooding the market daily. In fact, the twins each got their very own "princess" phones for their birthday this year, and have yet to put them down. One or the other is forever strolling around the house with a phone to her ear saying, "Uh huh. Yeah. Okay. See you then. Bye bye!" If I ask who they're talking to, they place a hand over the mouthpiece and whisper "I'm talking to Aunt Mindy," and then return to their conversation.

Evie is the worst. I had to confiscate her phone a few weeks ago during our family game time, because she kept excusing herself to make a phone call. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if I hadn't walked with her into the mall that morning and seen her stop, whip out her phone, and then continue on as pictured here:

Yep, that's my youngest daughter with her baby, stroller, diaper bag, sunglasses, and cell phone. The technologically savvy girl who's probably going to use my cell phone plan to "lol" with her "bff" behind my back someday. I guess it's time for me to buckle down and start figuring out all of this new technology. Maybe I'll even try texting someone tonight. But first, Ella's going to show be how to put on a video... er, DVD.