I know I'm supposed to keep my phone on me in order to hear its dulcet ringtones and feel its telltale text message tremble, but with health organizations around the world advising limited use and arms length distancing from wireless devices, I'm not quite ready to cozy up to my new friend.
Getting a cell phone did feel inevitable. Like joining Facebook or having a second child, I knew sooner or later it would happen to me.
When I worked full-time (outside the home I should add) I loved that I couldn't be reached on my days off; I never had to make up an excuse why I couldn't cover for someone; I simply couldn't be reached if I wasn't home. With a cell phone I'm going to have to be much less passive in declining social engagements or delaying my response to messages. Already I find myself feeling the need to return a text message instantly, if only my thumbs could keep up.
|It's not you, it's me.|
I've already experienced some of the painful side effects of adopting cell phone use. First, I've rendered my beloved wristwatch useless. Second, I've had a thumb cramp. And last, I missed a neat thing my son did as I was trying to figure out an app. And so, as someone who's been learned most of what I know about cell phone culture from the outside, I vow to prioritize present company ahead of textual company, to attend to my kids before my apps, and to wear my watch as much as I ever did.
Though this gadget is new to me, my kids will not remember a time when Mom didn't have a cell phone; it may well become family lore that I didn't get a cell until 2012 and they will brag to their friends about what a hippie I was (or be ashamed of what a Luddite I was). Either way, I can finally utter (or type) two little words I've been dying to say: text me.