musings for momma
by Sharon Rosen

first cell phone



After months of nudging, cajoling, and outright begging from oldest daughter, we gave in. We found ourselves in Verizon with our oldest daughter, about to buy her….gulp! Her first cell phone.

In my daughter’s mind, acquisition of a cell phone ranked with the deliverance of manna from heaven. In my mind, getting her a cell phone created an avalanche of doubt. Did she really need it? Would she be talking on it all the time? How many minutes should we allow? Why was getting her a cell phone such a big deal to me?

For her, this object, an electric pink “razor” phone, represents parental independence, social connection and pre-teen dignity. To me, her first cell phone signifies the first of many firsts looming around the corner: lengthy chats about cute boys, first dates, first kisses, first heartbreaks – leading to even lengthier chats about who broke up with whom and why. Of course, I didn’t verbalize any of these maternal concerns while sitting in Verizon with oldest daughter. Rather, I struggled to be cool and not make embarrassing observations in a public place. I get enough eye-rolling from oldest daughter just by trying to keep my mouth shut.

My husband and I held out for months. Despite her protestations that “all of her friends” had cell phones, we took an informal poll of parents of 11- and 12-year-olds. The results surprised us. Some of the parents got cell phones for their nine-year-olds, while others planned on waiting until their kids were high-schoolers.

Oldest daughter, of course, argued that a lot of her friends got cell phones in 6th grade, at age 10 or 11. Giving here a cell phone in elementary school seemed unnecessary to me. Our daughter’s school was walking distance from home and if she ever needed to contact us, she could always go to the school office and ask to borrow the phone. Of course she balked at that. Apparently, asking to use the school phone is a demeaning indignity for 10 to 12 year olds. My turn to roll my eyes. Come on, cell phones didn’t exist when we were kids and we managed. We called from the school office. Then we sat and waited for mom or dad to pick us up. Waited being the operative word. Waiting also seems to be passé and uncool these days. With the advent of cell technology and “everyone” having a phone, why should one wait?

I’m not a huge cell phone fan, viewing them as a necessary evil. I don’t like the idea that I can be tracked down anytime, anyplace. Although I should be used to it, because my mother knew how to track me long before cell phones existed. In 1978, when I was 16, Mom paged me at the local Baskin-Robbins. Her sixth sense knew I was there. She placed an order for Jamoca Almond Fudge.

These days, cell technology has replaced parents’ sixth sense. According to prevailing wisdom, to be a responsible parent you must have a cell phone. Even I was taken aback when an old college friend with pre-teen daughters told me she didn’t have a cell phone. How did she function, I wondered. What did she do in case of emergency? That’s when I realized I too had succumbed to the technology trap of cell phone equals immediate connection equals responsible parenting. Although I’m not sure I’d want to return to pre-cell phone existence. Cell phones provide comfort in trying situations; i.e., when stuck in traffic, when someone is ill, or when a kid is missing.

As the Verizon sales guy called our name, my cell phone dilemma/existential crisis screeched to a halt. Time to make some real decisions. I took out my archaic, dented cell phone to show the sales guy. The 13-year-old boy waiting next to us laughed out loud at my phone, causing oldest daughter still more humiliation on my account.

The sales guy informed us that if my daughter got the razor and we signed up for a joint calling plan, I could get a free upgrade to a rubber coated phone that wouldn’t dent when I dropped it. Upgrade time had arrived. So she got her pink razor, I upgraded, and we signed up for the basic joint calling plan of 700 minutes. Since I only use about 150 minutes a month, this plan gives oldest daughter plenty of leeway. May she use her share of the minutes wisely, because when I upgraded I learned how to track minutes…


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