By Sarah Longwell

There is almost nothing in the world that I like more than talking to my kids. They are bright, inquisitive, opinionated, and make me laugh many times a day. When they were little, I even started a twitter account for the sole purpose of recording and remembering the funny and sweet conversations I had with them. Over the years, my tweets to that account have become few and far between. This is partly because the boys at ages 12 and 14 are more likely to exercise their veto power over what I share about them online. But it’s also because a greater percentage of our conversations take place over the phone or text these days. And the truth is that even though they are charming in person, my kids are downright terrible at communicating digitally. 

As they grow up, it is reasonable and exciting for them to spend more time away from me, and I’m so grateful that we can rely on phones to facilitate their independence in that way. In sitting down to write this essay, it dawned on me that learning how to get all our needs met through digital communication is a definite work in progress. I think my needs are pretty simple; I basically want to know where they are and whether they’re safe and when I might see them again. They also think their needs are pretty simple; they don’t want their lives interrupted by me butting in and demanding their attention, but they want me available to them at all times. In the process of examining this delicate negotiation, I’m sharing a few minimally edited text conversations that are typical between us.

Me: Are you going to be ready to get picked up at 3 like we planned? I still need the address- it will take me ~20 mins to get there.

(18 minutes later)

14: where ru

??

Me: I will head over as soon as I know where to go

14: it’s by the sfeway

Me: …

Ok I guess stay put I will follow your dot on find my friends

_____________

Me: I need you guys to ride the bus home from school. Do you have your key?

12: 👌🏻🦎💎🍕

14: k

Me: great. Do you have your key?

(35 minutes later)

Me: I’m going to work now, hope you have a key

(3 hours later)

14: we home

12: 💩

______________

14: Give [my friend]’s mom $4.68

Me: ok but why? When? How?

(45 minutes later)

14: idk

______________

(I’ve asked for a text when they get to school on public transportation)

12: The eagle is in the hamper

12: Im the eagle and schools the hamper

12: 🐥 🗑

Me: LOL. You want me to pick you up today?

12: DO IT

12:  that was rude I mean yes u can pick me up

(20 minutes later)

12: Cholesterol

______________

(When 14 was on a 2-week school trip abroad and I hadn’t heard from him in 4 days)

Me: Hi Bub. Can you please send me any tiny message today so I know you’re ok. Love you!

(3 hours later)

14: Sorry just want you to know I’m ok. Love you!

I started this essay thinking of all the ways it is difficult and frustrating and amusing to try to maintain clear lines of communication with my kids while they are out in the world away from me. But as I was searching through my phone for examples, it also occurred to me that I have amassed quite a significant history of little “digital talks.” Sure, they aren’t always clear or prompt or easy to decipher. But I can remember being a teenager and needing to both find a payphone and also probably borrow a quarter if I wanted to talk to my parents while I was out. Suddenly, I’m feeling pretty grateful for an incoherent string of emojis or a single letter “k.”