Tag: texting

IYKYK

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Well, good morning. How did you find my fun little blog? IYKYK Do you know what “IYKYK” means? I just found out this morning. I was lying in bed, reading about this funky little swanky seaside town, and the writer of the article casually threw that acronym into the mix. I showed it to my husband and just like we always do, we stared at it, and started guessing at it, like we were competing with each other, trying to figure out the Wheel of Fortune saying, in order to win the prize. Neither of us could figure it out, so my husband looked it up for me. “If You Know, You Know” So now you know, you know? My understanding is that this is a younger, hipper way of saying that you are somehow “in the know.” Adulting – Second Half, IYKYK. I like it.

So friends, if you really want to trip up the younger people in your circle, casually throw that one out, real casually, into a text. That’ll throw ’em for a loop. “How did that party go last night? IYKYK” That could scare them. Just like when I was a little kid and I thought my mom seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, this text could really start some wheels whirling around in their young heads. They would be thinking, “What does she know? How does she know? Oh no!”

I like surprising my kids like this, every once in a while. It keeps them on their toes. Like the other day, I sent out a text to the family chat, reminding my children not to do stupid things like “the milk crate challenge.” This is another one of those dumb internet challenges where people get filmed doing crazy stunts. People are stacking up empty milk crates, like Jenga pieces, and then seeing if they can balance on top of them, at colossal heights. Sadly, it is not out of the realm of possibility, that my two middle sons might find such a challenge interesting to do, or intriguing to instigate one of their friends to do, while they have their phones going, camera ready. But now they know that their Mom has all of her many eyes wide, wide open (imagine Medusa’s head), and she knows all about the milk crate challenge, and therefore they have gotten her warning not to attempt such foolery, before they could even start collecting and piling up some milk crates. IYKYK

Those who say, do not know.
Those who know, do not say.
~ Le Tse

Wake Up Call

Yesterday, I had a very strange, surreal experience.  It makes me uncomfortable to admit it to myself and even more so, to admit it, out loud, on my blog.  I came to realize how sickeningly addicted I am to my tech and my need for instant gratification.  It all happened in a span of about 20 minutes yesterday morning.

I had finished up writing my blog and so I started perusing the internet for “funnies.”  I came across a couple of YouTube videos that I thought were hilarious and particularly apropos for two different groups of friends with whom I text with on almost a daily basis.  So I shared the videos with my girlfriend groups and then I sent a family hashtag chat text (see previous blogpost) expressing my love out to my immediate family.  I sat back smugly, waiting to hear the “text chime” on my phone and to read the breezy banter that was sure to come.  I was in a giddy Friday mood and I was up for cyber fun!  About 5 minutes after I sent the texts, I started getting nervous because there were no responses.  Is my phone broken?  Is the Wi-fi not working?  Maybe the videos are streaming slowly?  About 10 minutes after I sent the texts with no responses, I started getting paranoid.  Did I offend my dear friends with “in poor taste” video selections?  Was there a major catastrophe that I’m not aware of happening in this very instant?  Are my family members dead?  After 15 minutes, I started going insane.  Maybe, I’m dead.  Did I die?  Am I going to be floating over my body any minute?  Am I going to be like Bruce Willis’ character in the movie, The Sixth Sense?  I put a mirror under my nose.

Right around the 20 minute mark, everyone started texting me back.  The chime was going off every few seconds.   My husband even texted that he had made reservations for the evening at a hip, new restaurant. Right before that, though, I felt like life had stopped.  I felt like my life had hit an uncomfortable pause button and the anxiety I felt almost had me shaking.  Wow.  What a self-awareness moment for me!  Scary!  Why should I think that everyone should drop whatever they are doing right in that very moment to text me or even just “like” an unsolicited video that I texted?  Why should my adult/almost adult kids feel like they have to reassure their mother that they are still alive just because they aren’t sitting on the couch with me?  Really.  I have friends who toured Europe as young college students before the days of cell phones and somehow their parents managed to live in faith, knowing that their daughters were doing great and enjoying life, exploring the world, wherever in the world they may have been.  So, I guess the moral of the story is that I need to hone in my expectations, pull back my self-absorbed tendencies, and put a halt to my dependence on constant contact and feedback.  I’m 47-years old.  I have spent much more of my life without a cell phone attached to my hand than I have, with one.  This was truly a fascinating exercise in self-awareness.  Now, I’m going to go text my good, supportive friend about this epiphanic “wake up” call and she had better get right back to me with some feedback or at the very least, a “like”.

Thank You for Your Patience

It is a very strange feeling questioning yourself when you write a text to your adult child.  There has been this shift in the relationship where “bossy mommy” probably isn’t going to fly anymore.  There is a certain unsaid understanding that when a parent is paying the bills, the scales are tipped to the parents having a certain level of control.  My son is paying his own bills now.  He no longer relies on me for anything.  I’m not supposed to spout my advice unless he asks me for it.  I understand that on a logical level and I want to have a great adult relationship with him and my other children, so a lot of times I have to just sit on my hands and wisely choose not to write a text. When I do write a text to him, I find myself editing it, contemplating it, getting feedback on it, almost as if we were two people in a new relationship.

A college friend once told me that I apologize too much.  She said that instead of saying, “I’m sorry.”  I should say, “Thank you for your patience with my . . . .”  So, yesterday, I just couldn’t help myself.  Bossy Mommy took over the reigns and she felt it was necessary to text her adult son that he should probably get his dry cleaning done for a big business trip that he has coming up.  Ugh.  Now I think there was actually a struggle going on between Bossy Mommy and Mature Detached Mother, so the text came out garbled and ridiculous.  Autocorrect was having a field day.  I almost felt the need to tell him to please not send the text to that segment on Jimmy Kimmel Live where Jimmy reads outrageous texts from parents to their young adult kids. And everyone laughs hysterically.  All that I can say is that the final text to my son from me was, “Thank you for your patience with my need to still parent you.”

And he answered, “I love you, Mom.”