Text Me, Baby!

Technology and I parted company at the cell phone. It wasn't that I was philosophically opposed to them; I just didn't see the point. If I was out and about, I was likely with the person I wanted to talk to. If I was home--well, I was home. Call me there. It was bad enough having to carry a pager at work. I didn't need something beeping without warning everywhere I went.

A few years later, I was on my way home from work when I had a sudden change of heart. Eight months pregnant with Emma the Brave, it occurred to me that I could give birth at any moment--right there, squatting on the side of the Deerfoot Trail. I stepped on the gas. The second I walked into the house, I announced my decision to the Captain. "I'm getting a cell phone."

Forever the selective cheapskate, he replied, "Don't do that. Take mine."

I had to admit, he had a point. As the Captain wasn't traveling, he didn't need his cell. He was either at work or with me. I took him up on his offer and, as luck would have it, never used it.

A repeat bout of cell phone urgency occurred when Moody Mouse was on the way, only this time the hypothetical birth took place on Highway 400 and Emma was watching. Once again, I scooped the Captain's portable and the feeling dissipated. Moody was born right where she was supposed to and the phone never got touched.

Well, I've been getting that feeling again. The first inkling came when I lost track of time and was 20 minutes late to pick up the girls and their friend from school. A few days later I left my headlights on outside where I volunteer. But the bean that burst the bag came last Friday when I passed out in a downtown pharmacy. Not only did I not have a phone, but the Captain was away and I didn't have the phone numbers of anyone who might have been able to help.

Saturday we went shopping. I was eyeing the BlackBerries with their full keyboards--imagine the blogging!--but conceded to the Captain's hand-me-down. Not bad, eh!