Congratulations!  You are not afraid to read a blog.  I would guess you also may Twitter, Facebook and even know how to send a text message.  In short, you are not afraid to use your computer for more than email.  Chances are you even know how to upload photos onto iPhoto, Shutterfly or Snapfish.

Welcome to the year 2009!

Even though I am getting painfully close to my fortieth birthday, I do try to stay current with what “those crazy kids are into these days.”   I may be a bit square when it comes to body piercings and tattoos but I believe technology benefits everyone – even those of us too old to wear low-rise jeans and belly shirts.  I am a woman who loves learning how to use the latest and greatest tools available to the average computer user.

I was excited to jump on the Facebook bandwagon in March of 2008 (back then, the majority of the users were college students and Canadians – I am neither one).  Once I saw how great it was to be able to re-connect with old high school and college friends, I tried to sell my friends on the idea.  The typical response was (and often continues to be), 

“I just don’t have time for that.”  

” You must have so much more free time than I do.”  

Or  

” I could never figure out how to do that.”

At first, I tried to explain how easy it was and why Facebook can be fun.  I thought others should get to enjoy it as much as I do.  The feeling of wanting to share cool technology is very much like wanting your friends to try Pinkberry yogurt for the first time.  It is not going to benefit you but you want to share the experience.  You want your friends to enjoy the same things you enjoy.

Of course I know it is not my business what other people choose to do.  However, it is the closed-mindedness that irks me.  I am always shocked to encounter well-educated intelligent people unwilling to explore something new.

I am shocked when I experience OUR GENERATION acting like our grandparents. I imagine these reactions are similar to how my Grandfather must have reacted the first time my father brought home rock music on an 8-track tape. 

I recently attended a committee meeting with approximately 40 parents from my child’s school.  I must have been high from the fumes of the yummy hazelnut coffee because I foolishly attempted to introduce a new idea.  I stood up and suggested creating a Twitter account for the parents on the committee.  I thought it would be a great idea.  I had prepared to explain how easy it is to sign up.  It is FREE and one can receive a text message once in a while with pertinent information.

A simple Twitter account could replace the old fashioned “phone tree” our parents used in the 1970s and 1980s.

The instant negative response I received was unbelievable – and honestly quite upsetting.  I may not have heard actual “boo-ing” but the objecting chatter sounded eerily similar to a scene I witnessed recently on CSPAN.  It was the same reaction heard from a group of Republicans when Obama started discussing healthcare policy.  I felt like Nancy Pelosi attempting to introduce a gun-control bill in a town hall meeting in the heart of Texas.

Amidst the chorus of objections, I was able to clearly hear a few specific complaints.  The overall response was a mixture of, “I barely know how to use email” or  ”I don’t text” and my favorite “I don’t have the time.”

” I don’t text.”

What?????  These are parents of pre-teen children.  Can you believe they don’t text and have no interest of learning how?  You better believe each mom will be learning how to text very quickly.  It will happen just as soon as she realizes how easy it is to communicate with her 12-year-old daughter via texting.  It is much easier to text a teen than to try to talk on the phone when she is in the middle of a swarm of other teen girls.

” I don’t have the time.”

The majority of the women who tell me they don’t have the time to learn to text or “Tweet” are the very same group of women who frequently send me Facebook “Flair”, virtual Starbucks lattes, requests to join the group “Save the original Bloomies logo”, and challenge me daily to beat their high score on Bedazzled.

All these thoughts went through my mind and I was about to scream,

“This is not your father’s computer!”

Luckily, I have more self-control than my six year old.  I am able to contain my frustration – sometimes.  I calmly sat down and thought to myself, “If your children spoke out in class in this rude manner, you would be getting a call from the Dean telling you your child is sitting in his office for disrespecting his teacher.”

I took a big breath.  Exhaled.  Took another big breath and then, I let it go.

I sadly have to realize I cannot force my peers to remain open to change.  I cannot shake them and tell them they are positively absolutely unbelievably missing out on great and amazing technology!

I will accept things I cannot change (sorry, I know that is so corny and cliché, but that was too easy. I had to stick that in there).

And truthfully, there is a HUGE benefit to these women being unwilling to grow with technology.

If I want to vent about them in my blog, they will never know.  They don’t read my blog.

Those women only use their computers for email.

They don’t have the time to read my blog today because at this very moment there is a Bedazzled tournament on Facebook!

Do you ever wonder how you and your siblings are so different?

You ask yourself,

“How is it possible that two people raised in the same house grew up to be such completely different human beings?”

Well, a wise person once answered this question very easily.

You did not grow up in the same house.

Yes, you may both have been raised in that same yellow house under the same red Spanish tiled roof.  You opened the same refrigerator and reached for the same orange juice.  You boarded the same planes for the same vacations.  You were even spanked by the same hands and hugged by the same arms.  However, the house you were raised in was a very different home for each of you.

I often speak to one of my siblings and am amazed at how we remember similar experiences so differently.  My older brother has memories of events, which I never knew occurred.  My younger sister is often surprised when I discuss events I remember so clearly yet she did not even know the event took place. 

In my own family, each of us had different privileges bestowed upon us at a variety of ages.   One of us may have started driving at 16 while another one of us was not allowed to drive until a later age.  One of us may have had a 11 o’clock curfew at age 17 while another had no set curfew at all.

You get the point and I would guess you are already thinking of examples of this from your own childhood.

Now my husband and I are the parents.  We are the ones making the different choices for the different children being raised in the same house.  I clearly see how parenting styles change within a short time and also drastically change from child to child.

It is amazing how much you can change as a parent within just a few years.  I was much more neurotic and controlling with my first child.  I laugh at myself when I think of my behavior with my first.  The choices I made and the things I did seem funny now. 

When my oldest went on her first camp field trip, I drove alongside the bus to their destination.  I even went into the skating rink myself to keep an eye on her.  I went on so many field trips with her in her early years.  Now, with my third child entering first grade, I am so happy when I am NOT picked to go on a field trip.  Fortunately, there are many first- time moms vying for the chaperone spots on the field trips. 
Another example is the first day of school. First day anxieties vary from child to child.  I remember my oldest starting her first day of preschool.  I clearly remember the tears (mine and hers), the worry (mostly mine) and the anxiety (all mine).  Visions of me peeking through the window to make sure she was happy and sitting with someone she knew.  Oh my, how I remember the guilt of leaving her with another person.  I remember counting the minutes until I could pick her up and re-assure her “Mommies always come back!”

Years later, my third and youngest child FINALLY started preschool.  I knew he would be fine.  I had errands to run.  I was so excited to finally have a block of time to myself to grocery shop in peace.  As I walked him down the hall to his classroom, I was distracted with the fantasy of unloading groceries in a quiet house without someone whining and begging to eat every snack we just purchased.  The only guilt I remember feeling when I dropped him off at school on that very first day off was the guilt of being so happy to be dropping him off.

Now, before you judge me and think I love this youngest child any less, please know this:

The youngest also gets the longest bedtime routine, the most privileges and he is the only child who has ever been allowed to come sleep in our bed in the middle of the night. (and don’t forget, according to my other two, the youngest “always gets anything he wants!”)

You see, even though my oldest is only 12 years old, I already clearly see that I am raising each one differently within the same walls of the same house.  My older two kids were watching Dora and Rugrats at age 6.  My ‘baby’ was quoting lines from the Simpson’s’ movie before his sixth birthday.  We did not travel much when the older two were little. Yet, the ‘baby’ will be seeing the lights of Las Vegas before his first visit from the tooth fairy.  The older two were much more innocent for a much longer time.  For instance, the ‘baby’ was watching a kid’s movie recently and noticed a woman’s cleavage.  He said, “Mommy, what is that line ladies have on their chest?  I like that!”  (As if we needed more proof that male appreciation of boobs is a standard option with the Y chromosome package – and don’t be tempted to blame it on breastfeeding because all three of my kids were 100% similac babies)

There was an analogy in the movie Pieces of April in which Katie Holmes’ character is the oldest child and the self proclaimed black sheep of the family.  She refers to herself as the “first pancake” and explains the first pancake gets thrown out.  The first pancake is used just to test the temperature of the griddle.  The point obviously being that parents make all the mistakes on the first one in order to know what to do with the next child.  I find this comparison to be incredibly sad and also incredibly untrue.

In so many families (especially Jewish families), the first child is the golden child.   Even as adults, I often see the oldest child to continually be treated as the chosen one no matter what the reality is.  While I admit to a difference in the way we parent each of our three kids, I am not convinced one is better off than the other.  There are advantages and disadvantages to the different techniques we use with each child. 

This point reminds me of a strategy I recently heard about long-term financial planning with children.   When you are putting money away for your children’s future, place half the money in an investment account for college and the other half in an account to pay for their therapy.

I am not a psychic but I can clearly see the future.

In the year 2029, my daughter will be telling her therapist through tears and whimpers,

” I have just never understood why my brother got a cell phone at age 11 when I had to wait until I was 12.  And….. He even got a better one than I did!”