Print
E-mail
Texting: If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them
Everyday Adventures
By Mary Fran Bontempo, For The Bulletin
Do you remember the color of your children's eyes?
If I recall, I have two green-eyed girls and one brown-eyed boy, but honestly, I'm not sure, because I never see their eyes.
You see, my kids constantly wander around with heads bowed and eyes downcast--not due to any exaggerated sense of humility, but because they are forever staring at their cell phones--and texting.
Generally, I have to be drug kicking and screaming before I embrace any new technology. (In fact, I'm writing this column on a yellow legal pad in lieu of a computer.) At their inception, I hated cell phones, despised being constantly accessible. And I only reluctantly use a computer, as nothing beats a red pen and paper for writing and editing. But eventually, I relented and like most folks, can't do without either device, though most times, I’d like to toss them both from the top of the Empire State Building.
However, I never, ever thought I'd get my arms around texting. Few things annoy like the endless tap-tapping that runs like elevator music as an undercurrent through everyday life. In line at the grocery store, sitting in a restaurant, trying to watch a movie in a theater, it’s all texting, all the time. No one is content with what's happening in the moment; the world is constantly looking for a better offer via their text messages.
It's bad enough when strangers surround with the tapping cacophony, but when your kids cling to the phones like they're tethered to life support, looking up only to avoid walking into a wall (which they don't always miss), it's downright maddening.
I've done all the requisite screaming and yelling about how rude perpetual texting is, how it’s bad for your neck and back, not to mention thumbs, how it isolates one from actual life—to no avail. I'd all but resigned myself to having to identify my kids by the tops of their heads (at least I could tell the girls when their roots need touching up), when the light bulb went off.
Text nagging.
It's taken some time, but I finally figured out how to beat them at their own game. I educated myself in the idiotic art of texting. The first time I ambushed each kid, I made certain we were in the same room, just to see their facial expressions, and yes, their eyes.
"Hey, learning 2 text. How r u?" I tapped, settling back in my chair to enjoy their stunned reactions.
One by one, they jumped like Pavlov's dogs to the text's alerting beep, only to blanch visibly when they noticed the missive's author--me. And I saw their eyes, wide-open and panic-stricken.
Since that infamous day, I've refined my texting prowess, adding graphics and further mastering texting lingo. But despite the technology, the messages remain firmly entrenched in mom territory.
"Where r u?" "When r u coming home?" "B careful." "Not 2 L8."
It drives them crazy, which, I confess, was my intention. On the plus side, though, it’s even engendered some conversation, such as it is, between us. Most of the time it’s the kids begging me to stop texting them, but I’ll take what I can get. Occasionally, I even get to see their eyes, when they’re rolling them in my direction.
I suppose I should feel guilty about my subversive tactics, but I don't, as I know it's only a matter of time before something else comes along which will re-position me as a conversational non-entity, back to being completely off my children's radar.
Until then, though, I intend to fully exploit every text-nagging opportunity, smirking all the while. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to annoy one of my children. ttyl8r--Talk to you later!
If I recall, I have two green-eyed girls and one brown-eyed boy, but honestly, I'm not sure, because I never see their eyes.
You see, my kids constantly wander around with heads bowed and eyes downcast--not due to any exaggerated sense of humility, but because they are forever staring at their cell phones--and texting.
Generally, I have to be drug kicking and screaming before I embrace any new technology. (In fact, I'm writing this column on a yellow legal pad in lieu of a computer.) At their inception, I hated cell phones, despised being constantly accessible. And I only reluctantly use a computer, as nothing beats a red pen and paper for writing and editing. But eventually, I relented and like most folks, can't do without either device, though most times, I’d like to toss them both from the top of the Empire State Building.
However, I never, ever thought I'd get my arms around texting. Few things annoy like the endless tap-tapping that runs like elevator music as an undercurrent through everyday life. In line at the grocery store, sitting in a restaurant, trying to watch a movie in a theater, it’s all texting, all the time. No one is content with what's happening in the moment; the world is constantly looking for a better offer via their text messages.
It's bad enough when strangers surround with the tapping cacophony, but when your kids cling to the phones like they're tethered to life support, looking up only to avoid walking into a wall (which they don't always miss), it's downright maddening.
I've done all the requisite screaming and yelling about how rude perpetual texting is, how it’s bad for your neck and back, not to mention thumbs, how it isolates one from actual life—to no avail. I'd all but resigned myself to having to identify my kids by the tops of their heads (at least I could tell the girls when their roots need touching up), when the light bulb went off.
Text nagging.
It's taken some time, but I finally figured out how to beat them at their own game. I educated myself in the idiotic art of texting. The first time I ambushed each kid, I made certain we were in the same room, just to see their facial expressions, and yes, their eyes.
"Hey, learning 2 text. How r u?" I tapped, settling back in my chair to enjoy their stunned reactions.
One by one, they jumped like Pavlov's dogs to the text's alerting beep, only to blanch visibly when they noticed the missive's author--me. And I saw their eyes, wide-open and panic-stricken.
Since that infamous day, I've refined my texting prowess, adding graphics and further mastering texting lingo. But despite the technology, the messages remain firmly entrenched in mom territory.
"Where r u?" "When r u coming home?" "B careful." "Not 2 L8."
It drives them crazy, which, I confess, was my intention. On the plus side, though, it’s even engendered some conversation, such as it is, between us. Most of the time it’s the kids begging me to stop texting them, but I’ll take what I can get. Occasionally, I even get to see their eyes, when they’re rolling them in my direction.
I suppose I should feel guilty about my subversive tactics, but I don't, as I know it's only a matter of time before something else comes along which will re-position me as a conversational non-entity, back to being completely off my children's radar.
Until then, though, I intend to fully exploit every text-nagging opportunity, smirking all the while. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to annoy one of my children. ttyl8r--Talk to you later!
 |
 |
|
| American Original: The Life And Constitution Of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia | An Historic Adventure |
Reader Comments
The following are comments from the readers. In no way do they represent the view of thebulletin.us.
You must register with a valid email to post comments. Only your Member ID will be posted with the comments.
Registered users sign in here: |
Become a Registered User |
