I love when morse code shows up in a movie or tv show these days. Somebody starts clicking or tapping away and, much like speaking in tongues, someone else instantly knows what’s going on. Not only do they cry out “It’s morse code!” like Galileo discovering the principle of relativity, but they also have the ability to instantly translate the message. Because apparently morse code is being taught on the sly to teens and tweens around the country.
Me? I don’t have enough brain cells left to master the art of dots and dashes in a message. But texting? That I can do.
None of that nonsense texting that flies back and forth, acronym filled, without really saying anything. Nope, I believe in meaningful texts that use (gasp) actual punctuation. I know, I’m a dinosaur.
But when it comes to BrightSide I’ve noticed an interesting transition in my SOS texts over time. And shockingly enough, the kids have an awful lot to do with them.
SOS: When will you be home? When I was
crazy enough blessed to stay home with the babies and patience was getting thin, the closer we got to the end of the day the closer I watched the clock. I’d try to make it to at least 5:00pm before sending out the cry for help but I have to admit…some days my thumb was hovering over the send button at 4:59.
SOS: Can you bring home dinner? There were exhaustion filled afternoons when I was juggling Bear’s baby/toddlerhood and T-man’s toddler/preschool days. Times I wondered if I wasn’t chasing my own tail in a mad effort to keep my finger on the pulse. It was a good day if we managed to score naps, an activity, and clean up time before BrightSide got home. On those days the SOS carried a distinct edge of desperation. (AKA I don’t have one iota of energy left in me and if you want to eat and if I have any hope of facing tomorrow for the love of god please bring me sustenance.)
SOS: Could you pick up (bread/milk/peanut butter/eggs)? When the kids entered their preschool years and we were driving all over hell’s half acre, the amount of time it took to get everyone into and out of the car was insane. Besides gathering every item under the sun that might be needed, no matter how remote the possibility, making sure everyone went potty, and strapping each small body into a car seat harness that would stump Houdini…well, I only had so many outings in me, so if something got forgotten BrightSide got the text.
SOS: Would you bring me a slushy? (unless it’s Would you bring me a milkshake?) My years in braces gave the locals a great deal of business. After I had my braces adjusted, wires tightened, or band configuration changed my teeth were doing the hokie pokie like jacked up squirrels. Food was out of the question, so I basically survived on Mountain Dew slushies. Off the chart stress levels triggered pleas for milkshakes ‘cuz…ice cream.
SOS: Can you pick up a prescription? Then there were those stick-a-fork-in-me-I’m-done days. These SOS texts went out for any number of reasons – everything from I can’t load everyone in the car one more time to I somehow forgot it to I’m not heading into town today (like it’s some sixty mile trek).
I’m happy to say that the majority of my texts these days sound less woman-on-the-brink and more oops-forgot-to-mention. Though I have to say I’m not above inserting an edge of hysteria when things get really touch and go around here.
Even then, though, it will still have proper punctuation. ‘Cuz grammar.