Annoy my teenage daughter, that is.
Thanks to modern technology, one can now multitask the important chores of both communicating with and embarrassing one’s 13 year old while at a Federation conference in Las Vegas.
My friend Debbie showed me the way last summer: while we were in Chicago for a weekend, she happily texted back and forth with her two teen daughters. She said she communicated more with them (and got more information about their activities without her) by text than if she had called them. Remembering this, I texted to Big Girl and it worked. We chatted about shorts I had bought for her (they fit, but she thinks they’re too long) whether or not she would follow me on Twitter (she won’t, no big surprise) and her outing to see Hunger Games for the second time in its opening weekend.
I wish I was savvy enough to put up the screen shot of our convo but I’m not, so please bear with my old-school quotes:
“How was it the second time?”
“JOSH HUTCHERSON CAVE SCENE ASDFTGU”
“Cave scene not nearly as hot as in the book. #alwaysreadthebook”
“Ew mom dont do hashtags”
Meanwhile, the report on life during my absence varied by reporter. DB was proud to tell me (upon my arrival home at 11:30 last night) that some laundry got done (it was in a pile on my side of the bed when I got home, but still) and that he made salmon for dinner that night. Skater’s wrap-up of their time without Mommy: “We ate a lot of pizza bagels while you were gone.”