Reasons Why I Embarrass My Daughter: Number 241

I like to think of myself as relatively tech-savvy.

I generally know what to do when a computer isn’t working, to get it working again. I know how to use PhotoShop, Illustrator and FinalCut Pro. There are, however, small and simple things which elude me, which with my level of knowledge should not actually be a problem. One of these is knowing how to switch the TV between DVD mode, X-Box mode and TV mode. Another is using my daughter’s cellular telephone.

About three years ago, I became the world’s most embarrassing individual, as far as my daughter is concerned. I have no idea when I changed so much in her eyes, or what set that change in motion. I’m thinking, though, that it was a moment much like the one I’m about to describe.

When she started 10th grade this year, she received a fancier phone. She was happy because she got a cool new phone. I was happy because I got her old one, which for me, even though it’s an older model, is perfectly OK. I don’t use cell phones very much because I’m primarily an e-mail person. I don’t even have her new phone number. She hasn’t given it to me; her dad has it.

Before the Oscars, in preparation for making my yearly picks, I needed to see the Oscar-nominated shorts showing at the . My husband needed the car, so, he dropped my 13-year-old son and me off at the movies with the understanding that I’d text when we needed to be picked up again. The battery on my cell was dead, so I borrowed my daughter’s on the condition that I not actually call anyone, but text. On her plan, calling costs money, but texting is free.

After the movies, as my son and I stood outside the theater in the 20-degree weather, I got my daughter’s phone out. My phone is a little rounded one, the kind you need to push one key several times to get the desired text figure to appear. It took me about five minutes just to figure out how to access the “messaging” screen on her bigger, rectangular phone, but, I did it and started pushing the buttons multiple times to get the characters I needed for the text message. Her phone jumped to the next character a lot quicker than mine did and has a feature that completes words for you.

Not only could I not get to the characters I needed fast enough, but the auto-complete had a mind of its own. I had started to text the word, “Ready,” to my husband. The word that appeared, inexplicably, was “Spray.” When trying to back out of the message, I hit another wrong key and sent it. So, sitting at our house, my husband received a cryptic one-word text from my daughter’s phone that said, “Spray.”

I soon saw that there was a text back, and while trying to figure out how to view it, only then realized that my daughter’s phone is one of those with a slide-out alphabet key panel. Oops. That certainly explained why the text function wasn’t giving me enough time to push the buttons. I’m not a complete technological idiot, honest.

In any case, about 10 minutes later, my husband pulled up and asked, “Are you ready to leave, or did some random dolphin text me?” 

My daughter didn’t know what to make of a one-word text that said “Spray,” in her sent messages file. When I explained the whole situation, I got "The Eye Roll" (pictured, top right). Either this was the beginning of a senior moment on my part, about 20 years too early, or it showed me that every once in a while, "The Eye Roll" is justifiable.

This revelation, however, will not stop me from hoping that "The Eye Roll" becomes less frequent, the older my daughter gets.