A Sweet & Sweaty (Kinda) Wrong Number

The other day I was working in my office when I saw an incoming FaceTime call from an unknown number.

This is what the caller saw upon connecting –

Hello

It took me a few seconds to process who was calling…

Can I help you?

And then my brain caught up with the technology in my hand.

On the other side of my phone screen sat a 10 year old boy trying to call my soon-to-be 10 year old girl. By “call” I mean FaceTime and by “girl” I mean Hudson who doesn’t have a phone. But with an itouch and a wireless connection, she (like many) FaceTimes friends and family regularly. By “friends” I mean GIRLfriends and by “family” I mean Grandma and Daddy.

Until then.

Her first call from a boy. Real call. Real boy.

You’re calling for Hudson?

Oh sweet Jesus, this Pinocchio is trying to real time video chat with our barely-out-of-diapers child who just yesterday was watching JoJo’s Circus and carrying a blanket called “Baby”.

How did this happen?

I tried to hide my surprise. It was video after all – the little twerp could see everything. Trying to remember I was the adult, I authoritatively yet kindly let him know he had called my cell phone and I was at work but could I, uh, take a message?

I’m watching you, boy.

This next exchange struck deep. Said with sweet sincerity –

“Oh gosh Mrs. Orr, I’m so sorry.”

Wait, what? Who?

Stab, twist, and turn. I’m Mrs. Orr.

I didn’t know how to slice this multi-layered shock cake.

My baby was getting her first call from a boy.

The call was a live video chat.

The boy called me Mrs. Orr.

Seriously, how did ALL of this happen?

At this point, I wanted to go with a classic Raleigh move.

(Insert dramatic fake cry here.)

I thought back on just a couple of weeks ago when Hudson wasn’t feeling well on the eve of Valentine’s Day. She was clearly upset about the prospect of missing school. Ned asked if she had a special Valentine. She emphatically said no.

I shared with her a story about my fourth grade Valentine’s Day.

I got a fever at school and had to go home before the class party, where I was (not-so-secretly) hoping to receive a special Valentine from John Griffiths. I was crushed.

Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing (for Vday) still stings.

My earliest memory of a phone call with a boy was when I was 12.

We had met at an amusement park the weekend before. His name was Biff (or so he said although it was probably Lance or Mike or Steve but that was the time of the Preppy Handbook and Izods with the collar up) and my friend Mindy called him using her fancy three-way calling. I giggled into my banana phone as we talked about nothing and everything.

It was exhilarating.

That phone connected me with many Biffs over the years.

Banana phone still going strong in high school.

I suppose three-way phone calling was cutting edge for 1985. But like I once wrote about another FaceTime call, the call for Hudson felt straight-up Jetsons.

We are navigating uncharted territory.

The role of technology in parenting is definitely a wild adventure.

When I clicked “connect” on that call, I was reminded Hudson IS growing up. What it will look like is very blurry and I know in many ways it will be different than my banana phone days. Communication is advancing faster than ever before and the social impact is unknown. It can be daunting.

As adults, we are all trying to get our heads around it. Staying empowered requires keeping current ourselves, setting boundaries, and having open discussions. Yet behind the technological complexities are the same coming of age feelings known since Cupid’s first arrow.

Perhaps this is how every generation has felt?

Just as Hudson is playing with her role as an almost 10 year old, I am playing with my role as the mom of an almost 10 year old. It’s uncharted territory for both of us. As we make our way, I’m realizing I will be leading often, but there will be critical times when I will follow her lead. FaceTime calls as a regular practice may be one of those times.

Regardless, we will get through it together.

Hopefully smiling a lot.

I love you sweet Hudson.

Oh – and BTW – I ended up going to a Homecoming dance with John Griffiths in tenth grade. Clearly all my dreams had finally come true.

SO excited!