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Mother Knows

PARENTING B.C. I don’t know how our parents survived while trying to kept track of their children before cell phones were invented. By Kimberly A. Porrazzo Published: September, 2005

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I don’t know how our parents survived while trying to kept track of their children before cell phones were invented. When I was a kid, my dad used to whistle a loud, shrill whistle while standing in our driveway. I could hear it from anywhere on our street. When I heard that whistle, I knew the drill. Drop everything and run home to check in. Today, most of us work and our kids aren’t just playing down the street, they’re in after-school activities ­ definitely out of hearing distance. Thank goodness for cell phones. For parent and child, they are high-tech umbilical cords that keep today’s generation of parents connected with their kids. I can call my 16-year-old and leave a message on his voicemail. My words vibrate in his pocket without a sound and when he checks his messages he hears me wish him good luck at his baseball game or say that he can stay an extra hour at his friends because I have another stop to make on my way home. And it works the other way, too. My sons can call me if they need me. I‘ve noticed, however, that my calls to them outnumber the calls they make to me. This hit home a few nights ago with my oldest. My 19-year-old works as a waiter and sometimes doesn’t get off work until after 10 p.m. He knows to call me if he’s planning to go out after work so I don’t worry. On this particular night, about midnight, I woke abruptly and realized that he hadn’t yet called. Still a little sleepy, I dialed his cell phone. “Hello?” he answered. “Hi,” I said, trying not to hammer him for causing me this worry. “How are you?” “Fine,” was all I got in reply. “How was work?” I questioned matter-of-factly, waiting for him to apologize for forgetting to call me. “Fine,” again was his answer. Finally, I needed to know: “Where are you and why didn’t you call me?” I said accusingly. “Mom, I’m in bed,” he said from down the hall. “OK then,” I said, realizing I had awakened him. “Thanks for calling, mom,” he said. “Good night.” “Good night,” I mumbled humbly before hanging up. Then I turned the power off and went back to sleep. Kimberly A. Porrazzo is senior writer for OC Family Magazine.

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