Old Fashioned

My two younger siblings use text messaging as their main form of communication. I don't get it. What's wrong with the tried and true phone call, a face-to-face conversation or even the more technologically savvy e-mail? I don't consider myself to be old fashioned because I don't text (or even know how to text) people.

It's never bothered me that a few years ago my own husband grew a Blackberry appendage. I just chalked it up to one of those "computer engineer things" and I didn't consider myself to be old fashioned because I didn't grow the appendage, too. However, last week when I was scheduling another appointment for Jude at the pediatrician's office, the receptionist asked me if I wanted a reminder card. "Yes, I do," I said. "That's how I remember to write the date on my calendar at home."

"Well," she said, "I always ask because a lot of the moms are using Blackberries these days."

Truth be told, I've been quite content in my old fashioned-ness, although it's become more glaringly obvious, even in my own home that I am, in fact, old fashioned. Yes, that's right, Joel (thanks to my Uncle Keith) is now an iPhone expert. He knows how to look at the pictures by sweeping his finger across the screen and he LOVES to hold the phone up to his ear and listen to music. Is it bad that a twenty one-month-old boy knows more about iPhones than his thirty seven-year-old mother? No, Joel has just inherited the "engineer gene" from his father. At least that's what I'll keep telling myself.