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May 28, 2010

Text, Text, Texting at Heaven's Door

Texting Moms never get sick.  Only an outbreak of Cholera or the Bubonic Plague might elicit some family sympathy.   Recently, the stomach flu decided that this mom had dodged the bullet one too many times.  Within minutes, my health status was transmitted across our cell phone network.

My eldest paid me a visit on her way to classes, after hearing me moaning.  She immediately whipped out her cell phone and began texting her younger sister, who while away at college, had been home the previous weekend.  

“What are you texting her?” I asked as I raced past her on my way to the bathroom. 

“Oh not much,” she said as she read me the text she had sent.  “Hey, just a heads up…. Mom’s been in the bathroom all night, reenacting the pea soup scene from the “Exorcist.”

I heard my eldest chuckle.  “She wants to know if your head is spinning around?  I told her not yet, but I’ll text her if anything changes.”

This was coming from my first born, who stayed an extra couple of weeks in the womb, convinced it was a beach resort.  Had cell phones been available back then, she probably would have learned to text in utero. “Text me if you need anything,” she said sailing out the door.   Text messaging has practically worn her fingerprints off both hands.   She navigates the keypad like Helen Keller, since the numbers have long been worn away. 

Blindly I felt my way back to bed convinced someone had super-glued my eyes shut.  While drifting in and out of consciousness, my cell phone buzzed, waking me up.

"One more class to go.  I met Dan for coffee.  It’s raining out.  Have lots of homework tonight.  Do we have any index cards? What r u up 2?” It was my eldest once again.

Squinting at my screen I texted back. 

“Dying, you?”

“Ha-ha…you sound crabby.  Don’t u want to talk?”

Give me a break.  What ever happened to a good old-fashioned phone call?  Better yet, how can you tell somebody’s mood by his or her text message?  Misinterpreting moods, can lead to text messaging fights.  Unless I have my cheaters on, I am not a worthy opponent.  In an age of email, Facebook, and Twitter, a text wasn’t helping me feel the love.

“Sleeping,” was my response.  For the love of Pete, take a hint!

“ Oh kk, I texted Dad and we both want ‘Buffalo Wild Wings’ for dinner.  Want some?”

Was she serious?  I just wanted sleep and to be left alone.

“Unless 1 of the dogs chomps off a limb or u spontaneously combust, don’t bother me,” I texted back and shut off my cell phone. 

I’d had enough of technology for the day.  If it were an emergency, they would have to call the house phone.  The “Plague” and I were heading back to sleep, and yes we were a little cranky. 

This is an original 50-Something Moms Blog post. Laurie Fabrizio is a contributing author of the book, "Laugh Your Shorts Off".  When she is not trying to keep her husband on the ground, you can find her on her personal blog, "Married to Middle–Aged Maverick" or on Twitter at lfab24.

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