Dear Kid,

It was raining (hard) as I headed for home last night. It was about 9:30pm as I existed the Norwood Lateral and turned north on I-71. For anyone who is not familiar with the area, the Lateral runs east/west [I was heading east] and 71 runs north/south on the east side of Cincinnati.

Usually it runs. Last night it was a parking lot.

I’m a girl who likes information, so I called Dad.

“I just turned off the Lateral onto 71 and it’s a complete standstill. Can you see if you can figure out what’s going on?”

My understanding of the situation: I wanted to know A) what the problem was, B) where—exactly—the problem was, C) whether I should be considering an alternate route, and D) how long it would take me to get home.

Dad’s understanding of the situation: Actually, I don’t know what his understanding was—I just know it didn’t match mine. I know this because he said, “Was 75 backed up?”

“What? I have no idea. I’m on 71. Can you see if you can figure out what the issue is here?”

“Did you see if 75 was backed up and then decide to take 71?”

“75 is on the west side. I’m now on the east side. I just want to know what’s causing the problem.”

“Why did you go that way?”

(In my head, “Why does that matter? Just see if you can figure out what the situation is!”)

What I actually said, “I always go this way. I think maybe I see flashing lights, but I’m not sure.”

“So you’re moving, just slowly.”

“No, at this moment, I am l literally not moving at all.”

“I’m listening to NPR and they haven’t said anything about a problem on 71.”

(In my head, “No, I wouldn’t think this would hit the national news headlines.”)

What I actually said, “…”

Dad hung up to research the issue.

Traffic crept forward 3 car lengths.

“Well, Sweetie, I can’t find anything.”

“I’m pretty sure I can see lights.”

“You can always get off at the next exit and take Ridge.”

“Well, I’m going to be delayed.”

“Just turn on the news, take a deep breath, and enjoy the time.”

(In my head, “’News’ and ‘enjoy’ are generally not words I put together.”)

What I actually said, “See you in a while.”

6 hours and a quarter mile later, I reached the next exit. There had been a terrible crash—at least three cars totaled—which blocked the entire highway. We had to take the exit whether we wanted to or not.

The highway just north of the exit was fine. So we could get right back on. Except at that particular exist, there is no such thing as “right back on.” You have to go aaaaalllllll the way around the exit ramp, up two blocks this way, over a couple of blocks that way, across the overpass, and then take the long entrance ramp back to the highway. Lots of red lights. It took a while.

Still it was better than taking unfamiliar back roads.

My twenty minute drive home took about 45 minutes.

I hope no one was badly hurt in the crash.

I feel sorry for the officers who were standing out in the rain making sure the cars didn’t exceed the speed limit while they inched along.

I don’t know what caused the crash or what the circumstances leading up to it were. I do know that far too many accidents are caused by people texting, or rushing, or rushing and texting.

It’s not worth it.

Neither is trying to explain some things to the HusbandPerson.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

One of my phavorite phrases is “that is one possible interpretation.”

I was taught this phrase many, many moons ago and it has proved to be a very helpful saying.

For example, let’s say you see someone with chipped nail polish. You might think, “Wow, she doesn’t care enough to keep her nails manicured.” You might think, “Guess she’s been really worried about something.” You might think, “Yikes, that is a really unflattering color on her, no wonder she’s been chipping at it all day.” Or you might think, “Gosh, the fact that she managed to get showered and dressed today given that she has three children under three years old is pretty impressive.” Then again, you might think, “Are you kidding me, Mom? You have nail polish remover on the counter. Find a cotton ball and get busy.”

See how many interpretations there are? And it’s not limited to nail polish.

Have you ever gotten really angry at someone? To the point where no matter what they say, you take offense?

“I can’t believe she texted ‘Good morning’ to me. That was the most condescending message I’ve ever gotten. I knew she was still angry about lending me her shirt. She didn’t even ask how I am today. Geesh! Who does she think she is anyway?! Next thing you know she’ll be calling the police!”

Note: How anyone can interpret all that from a text of ‘Good morning’ is beyond me. But I’ve seen it happen.

Next time you find yourself reacting, ask yourself: is this the only meaning or just one possible interpretation?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Have you heard of the Red Thumb Movement?

Begun by Steve Babcock and now sponsored by Nissan, the Red Thumb movement is the idea of marking your thumb red and taking the pledge not to text and drive.

Steve Babcock was inspired to start the Red Thumb movement by his daughter, and her habit of tying a piece of yarn around her finger to remind her of something.

Steve painted his thumbnail red to remind himself to put down his phone while driving.

“As silly as it sounds, it totally worked”

– Steve Babcock, Founder of Red Thumb Reminder

– See more at: http://www.nissanusa.com/redthumb/#.dpuf

Nissan is promoting the Red Thumb movement as a mother’s day gift. As in, take a selfie with your thumb marked red (get creative) and send it to your mom with the pledge to put your phone down while you drive.

Red thumb or not, this is possibly the world’s greatest mother’s day gift.

Feel free to take this as a suggestion for what to get me.

And, Mom (as in your grandma), I promise I will not text and drive.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

There was a text message on my phone this morning.

It was sent at a not-unreasonable hour last night. Even if it had been sent at a ridiculous hour it wouldn’t have mattered because I typically don’t bring my cell phone upstairs with me. (Translation: in case of emergency, you should probably try the house phone.)

The text was from a number I didn’t recognize.

It read:

Hey boy where u at?

You might want to read that twice. I did.

My first reaction was to giggle. Not very much, but a little.

My second reaction was an urge to text back something like “I don’t think you meant me since I am most assuredly not a boy. I am, however, sure that you would never have passed High School English with a sentence like that.”

My third reaction (final answer) was to write a blog.

Now I’m sure whoever sent the text was not targeting me in any way. I’m guessing it was a case of mistyping a number. It didn’t feel obnoxious or threatening or any of those other adjectives that might cause someone to get upset.

I’m equally sure the writer was not aiming for the Queen’s English (the area code was decidedly US) and I recognize that we live in an area of the country where “Were’d you git that at?” is perfectly acceptable conversational English (it just makes me throw up in my mouth a little every time I hear it).

I’m can even talk myself into believing that the term “boy” referred either to the writer’s offspring or BFF.

I was watching a comedian last night (don’t ask who, I wasn’t really paying all that much attention) who was talking about finding out more about his dates by scrolling through their computer browsers and email texts. Funny, but a little scary when you think about it.

My point is not that one must always talk as though one were dictating Shakespeare.

The point is that you can never be 100%, absolutely positive who will see what you’ve written.

Who knows, you might even inadvertently send a text to someone’s mom who will then write about it for the whole world to see.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today I have no topic,
There’s nothing left to say.
But if I dare go post-less
You’ll fuss at me all day.

I thought of writing limericks
I thought of writing prose
I thought of talking puppy
But rejected all of those.

I considered telling stories
Of you as a little boy
Of Legos and of fire trucks
And other boy-type toy(s).

I thought of other stories
But decided not to try
It might not make you happy
And I don’t want you to cry.

So instead I’ll say good morning,
And hope your day is great(er)
Study hard and party smart
And text your mama later.

Love, Mom