App-rehension

Remember when we worried about whether or not to let our 14-year-olds use Facebook?

Man, those were the good old days.

Most teens I know barely look at Facebook anymore. And, do you know why? Because old people (yes, people my age even!) have moved in on it. Think about it, when you were 18, did you want to hang out with your parents?

Not so much.

Every several months or so, Lovin' the Alien focuses on the latest and greatest (and in some cases, scariest) technology that parents of teenagers should know about. These posts always get record numbers of hits, which makes me feel like I'm providing a valuable service. (But, it's also a little bittersweet to realize that my readers are more interested in stalking and bullying and sexting than in my ever loving tributes to my perpetually harmonious relationship with my own always perfect teen.)

Oh, well.

Sometimes, being a parent feels a little like being part of the FBI. Or the CIA. Or Homeland Security or the NSA. As soon as we figure out what's going on and who's involved, the game completely changes. Chances are, if we know about an app, our teens have already moved on to the next one.

Here are several apps that you may not have heard of, but might want to keep your eyes open for:


What'sApp
This is a free texting service that lets you send messages, photos, video and audio clips to friends. It's supposed to be for users 16 and up, but the people behind the app don't really have a way to police this. The app pressures members to add more friends each time they use it.

YouNow
This app promises to let you "Broadcast, Chat, and Watch Live Video." Users stream content, comment on it, and judge it, awarding gold bars. By its nature, it becomes a competition to see whose live videos (often broadcast from a teen's bedroom) can get the most attention. And, that can lead to potentially dangerous behavior. If someone offers you another gold bar for taking off your shirt, maybe you'll do it. Well, you wouldn't. And, I wouldn't. But ...

Whisper
This supposedly anonymous app lets teens confess their deepest secrets. It's like a private — but public — diary. Much of the content, as you might imagine, is dark, including depression, suicide, substance abuse. Teens are emotional beings and the emotions on Whisper run high. There are a lot of sexual confessions with accompanying photos. And, perhaps, most worrisome is that the anonymity is by no means assured. In fact, the app encourages users to "Meet Up" and exchange contact information.

Omegle
This app makes me think of the game Russian Roulette. It's a chat site that matches a user with another user, letting them chat or (worse) video-chat. Most users are there to participate in some form of cyber sex; there are frequently links to porn and the language, not to mention video, is decidedly X-rated. What troubles me is that teens, who are hormonal and curious, may see this as a "safe" way to experiment. The fact that there's no registration required feels to a teen like it's safe and anonymous. As a parent though, that fact means no recourse should something unthinkable happen.

Tinder
Perhaps the most familiar name on this list, Tinder is used by many adults looking to "hook-up." (In fact, it's a major story thread in the midlife crisis comedy Girlfriend's Guide to Divorce.) You "swipe left," if you're not interested; "swipe right" if you are. The trouble is, on the Internet no one knows you're underage. And, many teens use it to enjoy casual, no-strings attached sex — without a doubt, that's the very goal of the app (and its estimated 50 million users). While the idea of a teenager participating in cyber sex via a monitor in their bedroom is frightening enough, Tinder users make connections and then meet them in person. Imagine your daughter or son going off somewhere to have sex with a stranger. And, mind-boggling as it seems, they don't even think of the person as a "stranger" because they "know" them from connecting online. The potential consequences — STDs, violence, rape, murder — are beyond horrific. 


If any of this is news to you, do with it what you will. For the record, I don't condone un-warranted snooping. I have given my (technically adult) daughter a lot more freedom lately. We took the parental controls off her computer; I no longer have access to her passwords or accounts. If she had a diary, I don't think I'd read it. And, even when I do have an opportunity to snoop (let's face it, these days, I'm the only one cleaning up her room), I resist. She has a right to privacy.

But, if I was concerned about her behavior — if I honestly felt she was in danger, I would break my own rule pretty fast. 

Much faster than she could "swipe right."

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here.     

Reaction Reaction

OMG. O. M. G. 

Big news last week. Facebook launched "reactions," emoji-esque stickers that allow you to be more specific responding to a post than the traditional thumbs-up "Like" button. 

OMG.

There are six (count 'em, six) different reactions to choose from. "Like" is still an option, and it serves as the mouse-over gateway to the other five. Now, it's joined by:

"Love" — Like "Like," but more likable; symbolized by a heart
"Haha" — Made you laugh; symbolized by a laughing emoji
"Wow" — What a surprise!; an astounded emoji
"Sad" — Opposite of happy; a sad-face emoji
"Angry" — This pisses you off; a red-faced, squinting mad guy emoji whom you basically wouldn't want to meet in a back alley 'cause he's like really pissed

This solves an age-old problem. Well, not age-old, of course; not even decades-old, really. This solves the minutes-old problem of how to react when you really want to react but when reacting with a "Like" is not an appropriate reaction.

"After all these years, our darling 24-year old Timbuktu Terrier "Teeny Tiny Tarantina" finally has arthritis, but we're going to keep her as comfortable as possible."
 
Are you actually happy that their ancient dog is arthritic? Of course not. But, do you want to acknowledge that you saw the post and that you applaud their loving care? Sure. What to do? That thumbs-up icon is woefully inadequate.

Enter the new reaction stickers! In the very nick of time.

My husband was the one who alerted me to this exciting new development at The Facebook. (This in and of itself is deserving of the "Haha" reaction sticker. My husband refuses to partake in social media; our teenage daughter and I often refer to him as "the last man standing.") 

After seeing it on the morning news (yes, he still watches the news), he asked, with melodramatic sarcasm, how I felt about it all. 

I had two reactions ...

First, as a professional direct marketer, I immediately thought about Facebook's potentially insidious objectives. As with any- and everything we mere mortals do on the site, our new reactions will be tracked and analyzed. They will become part of our digital equivalent of the dreaded "permanent record." Just think how much bigger big data is going to be when each and every one of Facebook's 872 bazillion users starts reacting. Sheesh!

Second, as a former English major and current concerned parent, I just as immediately thought about how each of these so-called advances adds to the ever-increasing illiteracy of our children. "Read (or more likely, see or hear) something that you would like to comment on? Don't bother with words, just use one of these handy reaction stickers!" 

I feel the same way about the new feature on our iPhones that anticipates the word you may want as soon as you start to type. It's distracting, often wrong and encourages us to be lazy. Apparently, I'm in the minority though.

A few years ago, I thought the saving grace of the Internet was that it forced people to write (albeit with fairly little to no concern for spelling, grammar or punctuation). So much for that.

Not sure whether this all makes me "Sad" or "Angry." But, I don't feel "Wow" about it anymore, and I certainly won't be "Haha"-ing.

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here.    

Fickle About Facebook

My husband is one of the last hold-outs when it comes to social media. Never mind that he's in marketing. Never mind that he's a particularly social guy in his analog life. Never mind that he is — and has always been — young-at-heart. Unlike all his friends and family (not to mention 1.4 billion others), he has yet to join Facebook.

He says he never will.

Of course, this makes it a little inconvenient when I see something on Facebook that I think he'd like. Instead of simply hitting "share," I have to click through to pull the content up on a web browser, then cut and paste the URL into an email and send it that way. In other words, what would take a half a second within Facebook ends up taking me three or four seconds.

The horror!

Contrast his attitude with our now-teenaged daughter's. A few years ago, she couldn't wait to join Facebook. I finally said "Yes" when she turned thirteen. We agreed to some guidelines and ground rules, and except for one incident when a camp friend posted some rather off-color birthday wishes (which I immediately made my daughter delete but not before her grandmother saw them, omg), we've never had a problem.

Meanwhile, I have really enjoyed using Facebook myself. Over the last few years, I've reconnected with friends from kindergarten, from summers at my grandmother's house, high school, old jobs, college and the theatre company where I rehearsed every afternoon (plus weekend performances) all through my teens. As a writer (of this blog and also for Women's Voices for Change), Facebook gives me an easy way to share my work and expand my audience. As a marketer, I can share news from my agency and samples of recent work. And, as a mother, I've proudly shared thousands of photos and horse show scores.

Facebook has also been a subtle way to stay on top of my daughter's social life. A number of her BFFs have friended me. ("Really," I explain to her as she rolls her eyes, "They friended me first.") Kids typically post pictures from parties, concerts and other outings. When she was in Spain last summer, I kept track of her comings and goings through her posts and those of her host family.

Recently, I posted a quick video of a talking goat (don't ask) on her wall. I knew she would love it. But, when I asked her about it after school, she hadn't seen it.

You see, Facebook, the very center of her life at thirteen, is now passé. Or, more accurately, Facebook is now where old people hang out. Old people like me, apparently.

Sure, my daughter still goes to Facebook for certain things. The girls in her class have created a page to share prom dresses. Her stable posts lesson and competition schedules (and, this year, snow removal updates). She browses her news feed, casually. But, it isn't the center of attention like it once was. And my daughter isn't alone.

A recent survey of teens found that Facebook has been replaced. Don't get me wrong, it's still in the top three social sites, but its popularity is definitely waning, while other sites are picking up speed. Take a look at some results:

More than 90% of teens use some social media

76% use Instagram

59% use Twitter

45% still use Facebook, BUT that number has dropped 27% in the past 6 months

These statistics are interesting, but don't necessarily spell doom and gloom for Facebook. Although their active members are decreasing, those that are still loyal spend more time and are more fully engaged than users on other sites.  

So don't sell your shares of Facebook quite yet.

After all, they own Instagram.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Boys Just Want To Have ... Prom?: Junior Prom, Part 2

A couple of days ago, I wrote about my daughter's upcoming prom. The anticipation. The glamor. The Facebook page where junior girls are posting pictures of their dresses. 

(BTW, we are now on frock number two, and I will keep you posted.)

What I didn't realize is that the boys seem to be just as excited.

Or so they would have us believe.

'Turns out some enterprising boys have set up a brother Facebook page. It has 59 members and following the lead of their female classmates, many of the young men have posted their proposed prom looks. Comments are few and far between, but some of the more — shall we say — "creative" pictures have generated a lot of "likes."

Here are some of my favorites, along with their descriptions:

"I'm getting this"

"pic of me wearing my tux. its made from real 32 K gold so imma be swooping yo dates like I'm apple picking"

"Hey guys just a thought, I want to the north end and tried this on today, I think it looks fab"

"Tryna make a statement this year"

Some boys are planning to be more casual about the whole thing ...

While others are going for drama ...

Then, there are the more traditional options ...

My loyal readers will surely understand when I insist that I wouldn't normally condone boys making fun of girls. But, the whole Facebook prom dress thing struck me as so odd and (shortly after) this parody struck me as so funny ... I can't help myself. The comments are clever, the pictures are silly, and it all seems to be in good humor.

Classic black tie? Leather? Gold? Or cape and breeches? It's a tough call, but the boys seem to be on top of it. And, if all else fails, a boy can always throwback to the 1970s and choose a tux that matches the color of his date's dress ...

Audible sigh. 'Reminds me of pictures of my husband back in 1976. 

Except his was yellow.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Social Media and the End of Sleepovers

I still remember my first sleepover party. It was thrilling. I had a Girl Scout sleeping bag; I was eleven years old. It was my best friend's birthday and she took a bunch of us to see American Graffiti, most of which, I'm sure, went right over our heads. Then we camped out in the living room of her sprawling upper westside apartment. Between the hardwood floor, the gaggle of giggling girls and the novelty of not being in my own bed, I don't think I slept much.

There were also the cats. I'm desperately allergic, have been since I was tiny. My friend had not one, not two, but three felines. Two orange tabbies and an enormous Persian. So, I went home the next morning sleep-deprived and sneezing, itching and wheezing, and with eyes swollen shut.

I couldn't wait to sleepover again.

For a preteen girl, sleepovers were pretty much the best of the best. As I grew into my teens, I continued to attend (and sometimes host) slumber parties. Lots of them. They fell away once I went to college, of course ("sleeping over" meant something completely different at that point). But, sleepovers will always be an important right of passage in my tween and teen memory.

For my own teenage daughter? Not so much.

She and her cohorts had slumber parties earlier than we did. She was still in preschool I think when a friend had what her parents billed as a "sleepover/half-sleepover" party. The girls all wore pajamas and the more confident ones stayed over while others were picked up by parents mid-celebration.

When she turned seven, my daughter had a "Superstar" makeover-sleepover. Two of her teenage cousins (who were considered cool beyond belief by the guest set) joined us for hair and makeup, manis and pedis. A couple of years later, we hosted another sleepover, this one revolving around her favorite TV show The Saddle Club. We covered the dining room floor in bales of clean hay (to this day, nearly a decade later, we still find the odd bit of straw in the cracks of the floor). Fun was had by all.

Now a junior in high school, my daughter and her friends don't seem interested in sleeping over anymore. In fact, she's competing in a big horse event next week with another rider (and BFF). I suggested, you guessed it, a sleepover. To her credit, my daughter didn't roll her eyes or audibly sigh. But, she politely — and quickly — declined.

Why have sleepovers gone away? Why would an otherwise normal, healthy, red-blooded American teen not want to be up all night gossiping with her gal pals? Looking at pictures of Hollywood heartthrobs, making crank phone calls, participating in seances and eating junk food?

Waitaminute.

That's exactly what they are doing. It's just that mobile and digital technology allow them to be together ... apart. They are pretty much having remote slumber parties every night. They can Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook. They can Skype or FaceTime or LiveChat. They can group message, share pictures, flirt, tease, post videos.

We insist that my daughter leave her iPhone in the kitchen every night. It's one of the last vestiges of the rules we used to successfully enforce. (Oh, and if you ask her, it's m-o-r-t-i-f-y-i-n-g!!!!!!!) First of all, we leave ours down there too. Second, if we didn't have this rule, she would get even less sleep than she currently does. 

And third, "Because I'm your mother, that's why!"

On the rare occasion that she goes to bed before I do, I can sometimes hear messages pinging through to her phone. Pretty much all night.

Hey, I was a teenager too once. It was the 1970s, which certainly may (which certainly does!) sound like ancient history. But, I'm glad I didn't have to deal with cyber bullying, texting or sexting when I was a teen. I'm glad I wasn't under the kind of pressure that high school juniors and seniors have to live with.

Most of all, I'm glad I got to go to sleepovers. 

Cats and all.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.  

Un-app-etizing News

Y'know how everyone is a perfect parent ... until they actually are a parent? When we were "dinks" (dual-income, no kids), my husband and I found it very easy to pass judgement on our friends who had already taken the parental plunge. We would never let our toddler eat junk food between meals. We would never be bullied into anything by a six-year old. We would never let our fifth grader wear something like that to school. 

We would never let our teenager have unlimited access to iPhone apps.

Actually, that last one wasn't on our mind at all. Our friends who had children five and ten years before us didn't face the same challenges we do where personal electronics are concerned. Sure they had PCs, but the whole smartphone thing is a fairly new phenomenon. And one that makes it fairly difficult (read, impossible) to assert any kind of authority or control.

There was a time (not so long ago) when I was feeling rather self-satisfied that my teen daughter and I were Facebook friends. Let me tell you ... Facebook is so yesterday! Sure, my daughter is still on Facebook (you sort of have to be), but her activity there is fairly superficial: sharing photos from horse events, wishing people "Happy Birthday." Her real life (well, her real digital life) takes place elsewhere.

Here are some of the latest apps that have replaced Facebook in terms of teen activity. If you don't know them, don't worry, your kids do. 

Oh wait, strike that. If you don't know them, your kids do. Go ahead and worry.

Snapchat
Kids can post pictures that then "disappear." In theory, this makes the app safer than a more permanent place like Facebook. In reality, it encourages otherwise cautious kids to experiment with sexting and bullying. And, guess what? Nothing on the Internet ever really goes away.

Burn Note
This one's the same premise as Snapchat but with text messages instead of pictures. Same benefits. Same issues.

Kik
A popular messaging app with 120 million (MILLION!) users, Kik "lets you connect with all your friends, no matter how you meet them – at school, on your favorite social app, or in an online game." Your username can be whatever you like, which encourages anonymity (and all the questionable behavior that tags along with it). Since no one knows who you really are, it's a great place for pedophiles. Bonus!

Ask.fm
Another anonymous site (do we see a pattern emerging?), Ask.fm lets users post questions and answers. Great for sharing information, right? Great also for bullying, unfortunately. Although the site is based in Latvia, it's very popular with teens in the U.K. And, sadly, there have been several suicides there linked to it.

Yik Yak
Another anonymous site (yes, definitely a pattern), Yik Yak is in some ways even worse because it geotargets users. You see comments posted by people in your own community — in most cases, your high school. This "local bulletin board" brings the bullying right into your backyard.

I've just scratched the surface here. There are so many others (and, sadly, more being developed every day). Vine, Wanelo, Oovoo, Tumblr, Omegle, Pheed, Instagram, Whisper, Speak Freely, the list goes on and on.

If you have the wherewithal, ask your daughter or son to give you a tour of their smartphone. Then again, if they know you're coming, they can easily hide any apps they don't want you to see. In fact, there's an app for that. It's called ...

Poof.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com. 

Sophomore Semi-Formal

When you grow up in New York City, you're exposed to a much bigger world than your peers in the suburbs. Diversity and show business and street crime and nightlife. 

On the flip side, you miss out on a lot of the typical teen rituals. Like football games, cheerleaders, malls and "parking." 

And proms.

'Never had one. 'Never missed it. But, now I get to live vicariously.

Tonight, my daughter and her classmates are having a pre-prom of sorts, the Sophomore Semi-Formal.

Organized (as so much is) by the always overachieving class officers, the event will take place at a small hotel in Salem, one town over. There will be a buffet dinner and dancing. There are assigned seats. Everyone has to be at the high school by 6:15 sharp to board two buses that will make two trips apiece. Students will return to the school (by bus, again) at 10:30. They will not — I repeat, not — be permitted to attend if they arrive by any means other than the official buses. No rides from parents, no horse-drawn buggies, no bikes, no pedicabs. No way, no how.

(An aside here: growing up in NYC was different, for sure. But, growing up in the groovy 1970s, even more so. Where did all these rules come from? Sheesh! For heaven's sake, my daughter is in a plain old public high school. Not juvie.)

These kids have had a lot on their plates for the past few months: schoolwork, the polar vortex, Justin Bieber's issues with the law. But, Sophomore Semi-Formal (as with "Prom," the "the" is unnecessary) has risen to the top in terms of attention paid. Even our daughter, who is not and never will be anyone's girly-girl, has been lured into the madness.

The biggest issue, of course, is ... the dress. It isn't simply a matter of choosing one. The stakes are much higher. You need to choose one that no one else has chosen. Or ... sacré bleu! Or, more appropriately, given the demographic we're discussing ... OMG!!!!!!!!!!!

There are only a couple of stores in our town that might have dresses appropriate for this shindig. The nearest mall, about 20 minutes away, has maybe a dozen more. There are about 125 girls in the sophomore class. The chance of dress duplicates is likely and ... well ... it's just too, too horrifying.

Thank goodness for social media! An intrepid young sophomore created a Facebook page where girls can post pictures of their dresses. Some are catalogue shots on professional models. Most are dressing room selfies. The funniest are the ones depicting a pretty girl in a gorgeous dress on top and athletic socks underneath.

My daughter was fortunate. Not only is her mother preternaturally understanding (and quite handsome for her age), but we were spending February break 1,400 miles away in New Orleans. Shopping is always a fun vacation activity. We would make it our quest to find the dress.

First, we looked in all the boutiques of the French Quarter. Most dresses weren't worth trying on, and the first few that were turned out to be "Meh," in the words of my offspring. We finally found one that I liked a lot and she, grudgingly, took a selfie. Not quite committed yet, she sent it to just a select group of buds. The response was positive. Then, my daughter decided that the gold braiding on the bodice of the dress looked like "a uterus." (Say what?!?) And, it was no longer in the consideration set.

We found another dress shop on the corner of Iberville and Dauphine. There, my daughter found something: a cute dress, sleeveless with a short, flaired skirt, made out of turquoise lace over a nude slip. A quick digital convo with her gal pals, a quick credit card transaction, and — Voila! — the dress was hers.

Success. So, one might assume we were done. No, no, no. The next day, we ventured uptown to Magazine Street. There, amongst the galleries and bistros, we found another store with another dress. This was a different look. It was strapless, black and metallic on top with a gauzy "high-low" skirt. It was, happily, marked down about 50%. We decided to use our savings to take it to a local tailor and have the dress hemmed into a "high-high." The "high-low" is, after all, so last month.

Two dress-success. So, again, one might assume we were done. No, no, no, no. Back home, my daughter found yet another dress, this time online. I agreed because (a) it really was quite a bargain, (b) we're going to London in June for a big bat mitzvah and there will be multiple dressy events, and (c) as per usual, I was distracted when she asked. With Sophomore Semi looming, we ordered it in two sizes, planning to return whichever didn't fit.

The third (and final, thank you very much) dress arrived and was deemed "Perfect!" Her BFF came over and agreed with great enthusiasm. In fact, the enthusiasm was so great that I ended up giving her the other, matching dress. (It saved me the return postage and a trip to the post office.) 

I laughed and said, in my most Shakespearean voice "On pain of death, just DON'T wear it to Semi!"

And, here's the catch. The girls have now decided that wearing the same dress will actually be hysterically funny, so they are. 

After all that? I can only take their lead and shrug. Whatever.

But, I can't wait to see the selfies.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

Teens And The Mighty Mistake

“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” 

― Albert Einstein

When you're a teenager (or the mother of one), mistakes pretty much come with the territory. The teen years are a time of trial ... and error. In some ways, they're one long dress rehearsal for grownup life. Teens by their very nature are boundary-pushers, experimenters. At the same time, adult wariness, caution (and fear of mortality) are not yet developed. This means that many of the mistakes teens invariably make are not just dumb or ill-advised; they're downright dangerous.

And, the consequences can be significant and far-reaching. What's the worst threat we used to hear in high school? Our behavior would be reflected "on our permanent record." (Have any of you ever seen this so-called record of permanence? Me neither.)

“Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?” 

― L.M. Montgomery

I always say that once you're a mother, you're everyone's mother. Usually, I'm talking about a crying baby on a crosstown bus or, more seriously, a child who is missing, ill or the victim of an accident. In moments like that, my heart goes out to the child's parents. It isn't difficult to imagine myself in their circumstance.

Right now, I'm thinking about the parents of a particular young man in our own town. The police (with the cooperation of the anonymous-badmouthing social media app Yik Yak) tracked the recent bomb threat at my daughter's high school to a particular "juvenile." He was questioned and confessed. Charges are being sought for one count of disruption of a school assembly (a misdemeanor) and one count of a bomb threat (a felony).

That's right. A felony ... FEL-O-NY. 'Talk about a potentially permanent record.

Okay, I don't know this young man (although my daughter and every other student now does). He may be a basically good kid. He may be a troublemaker. He may have good grades. He may not.

He may have been showing off for his friends. Or frustrated with a teacher or the school administration. He most certainly did not have a bomb. But, his mistake (motive and character aside, he can only now look at his ridiculous post as exactly that: one mother of mistake) is going to haunt him. 

Would my daughter post a bomb threat. Of course not. But, has she — and the school's other high honors students — posted inappropriate things in the past? Of course. It's not like this particular boy is 100% stupid and my daughter is 100% smart. Teenagers don't work that way.

“Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.” 

― Mahatma Gandhi

In the news last week, there was a story about another big mistake that a teenager made using social media. 

One Mr. Snay, a former prep school headmaster, had sued his old employer for age-discrimination when his contract wasn't renewed. He won the case. His award was an undisclosed amount, which is now disclosed thanks to his daughter's inability to resist crowing about it on Facebook.

"Mama and Papa Snay won the case against Gulliver. Gulliver is now officially paying for my vacation to Europe this summer. SUCK IT."

All right, let's ignore the boasting, the nastiness, the unnecessary use of the word SUCK (in all caps, no less). Let's instead focus on the fact that the settlement of the case included a confidentiality agreement. The Facebook post breached it, and a Court of Appeal in Florida reversed the ruling. Papa Snay gets nothing.

I'd hate to be that teenage daughter right about now. ("No vacation to Europe for you! EVER!")

Today's teens know a lot about living out loud. What they don't seem to know is how to filter themselves, think before they type, or — sadly — consequences. It's too bad that "bomb scare boy" and "suck it girl" can't go on the road to warn others about their experiences. 

But, teenagers have to learn from their own mistakes.

That way, they can make even better mistakes tomorrow.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

Selfies Are A Lousy Way To Take A Picture

I've been a mother for sixteen and a half years and we have never had lice. 

Quick, give me something made of wood so I can knock on it!

I'm not one of those snobby people who thinks lice could never ("neveh, neveh, neveh") happen in my emaculate home. This is the real world. Sh*t happens; so does lice. And, believe you me, we've had close calls. A voicemail from daycare, a notice sent home in an elementary school backpack, a veritable epidemic at gymnastics camp. I've bought the skinny-toothed nit combs; I've examined the scalp. (I've even experienced the psychosomatic itching.) But, to date, thank-you God, we have not had a single louse in the house. 

Amen, sister. 

What we have had our share of are "selfies," the ubiquitous self-portraits that today's teenagers take (and take and take). These get posted on Facebook; they are Instagrammed and Tweeted and Tumbled and who know what else. "Here I am in my room." "Here I am with a bowl of Doritos." "Here I am with my new haircut." "Here I am trying on Sophomore Semi-Formal dresses." "Here I am." "Here I am. "Here I am."

Old-timers like us don't know from "selfies." I'm not sure whether it's because shooting a self-portrait with an old-fashioned camera (remember film?) would be awkward, or because we had nowhere to show them off. My husband (a high-tech professional, but an analog guy at heart) once told me that he was about to take a "facey" because there was so much snow out front. I, being slightly, but only slightly, more fluent in mobile lingo, knew what a "selfie" was, but not what a "facey" was. I thought he was about to fall on his face.

For those of you who weren't born after 1990, basically the "selfie" drill is this: you pose, you point, you post, you wait for all your friends to hit "Like" or make insightful and original comments like "U so pretty."

My daughter isn't vain about her looks. (In fact, if anything, I think she underestimates how pretty she might be to the opposite sex, which makes my husband very happy.) But, she certainly puts up her share of "selfies." I know this because whenever I help backup her iPhone, I get to see all her photos. I try not to make a big deal out of it. So far, they've all been nice, smiling, fully-clothed.

That's the issue, isn't it? Between Justin Bieber, Amanda Bynes and Anthony Weiner (really, could the man have a more unfortunate name?), it's painfully obvious that "selfies" can get you into quite a lot of trouble. People, please. Put your junk away. No one really wants to see that.

And now there's something new to worry about. According to several stories in today's news, taking "selfies" is contributing to the growing cases of lice among teenagers.

Altogether now ... "Ewwwwwwww!"

Yes, the popular plural version of the "selfie" (a bunch of besties crowding together for a group self-portrait) seems to be the culprit. According to Marcy McQuillan of Scotts Valley's Nitless Noggins (a place I will never work), “I’ve seen a huge increase of lice in teens this year. Typically it’s younger children I treat, because they’re at higher risk for head-to-head contact. But now, teens are sticking their heads together every day to take cell phone pics." She goes on to warn that "Parents need to be aware, and teenagers need to be aware too. Selfies are fun, but the consequences are real."

On behalf of mothers of teens everywhere, thank you, Ms. McQuillan. Just what we needed, right? 

One more lousy thing to worry about.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

The Rise of Technology; The Fall of Authority

There comes a time when confidence evolves into self-satisfaction, which evolves into smugness, which evolves into downright hubris.

I've written about hubris before (with regard to airport security and pierced ears). It's a concept that has stayed with me since Mr. Zarker's Greek and Roman Comedy course back at Tufts umpteen years ago. 

(Yes, "umpteen" is a real word. As is "hubris.") 

Hubris is what happens when someone is so boastful, so sure of his or her superiority, that they momentarily forget that they are a mere mortal. This, naturally, pisses off the gods and our hero or heroine comes to a rather bad end. Whether she knew the term or not, my Scottish grandmother believed in hubris. "Pride goeth before a fall, Jimmy," she warned my father when he got into art school, when he got his first Broadway show. Luckily, my dad wasn't quite so superstitious. Or Greek. (Or Catholic.)

Well, I've been guilty of some hubris of my own with regard to monitoring my teen daughter's use of technology. We were fairly early adopters (my daughter would disagree) and fairly generous with the devices (again, my daughter would disagree). She got her first iPhone when she turned 13 at the beginning of middle school. As with any acquisition of something she was desperate to have, there was peace. She learned that beloved little device inside and out. It wasn't long before the grownups were going to her for tech support.

Nevertheless, we had rules. Her MacBook (my old laptop from work, reconditioned for her) already had parental controls on it. She had a prescribed, limited number of hours per day (slightly more on weekends) and the thing shut off — snap! — at 8:00 pm each night. Any additional screen time required a password that I, and I alone, knew.

We thought we could manage the iPhone in a similar — if more analog — way. The rule was: all phones (my husband's and mine, as well as hers) were plugged in and powered up in the kitchen. No phones in bedrooms overnight. And, for the first couple of years, we enforced the same 8:00 pm curfew on the iPhone. This is where my own hubris comes in.

Other mothers would wring their hands over their daughters' non-stop texting. ("Oh, we set rules early on," I'd brag. "We have parental controls. We have device curfews." Yada yada yada. Hubris, hubris, hubris.) Then ...

High school!

Everything changed. Suddenly, my daughter needed Internet access late into the night. What ever happened to textbooks and mimeographed handouts? With all due respect to saving the rainforest, it was a lot easier to parent before homework went digital.

Okay, so she needs her laptop. I can still be strict about the phone right? Wrong! You see, today's "smart" phones make yesterday's rules seem downright "dumb." Here are all the reasons why she needs ("neeeeeeeeds") her iPhone on those late homework nights:

• Her phone is now her stereo. Good-bye CDs. It's all about iTunes and streaming digital radio. And, bien sûr, she simply must have her music to study.

• Her phone is now her camera. This is germane because she often takes pictures of pages from her ridiculously heavy textbooks rather than lug those same books home.

• Her phone is how she communicates with classmates when they have questions about assignments or are working on a team project. They group text, the teen equivalent of a conference call or (God forbid) an actual live get-together.

And, last but not least, her phone is an Internet browser. If I suggest that she use the laptop for research rather than the phone, she rolls her eyes to say "You don't get it." Apparently I don't.

The thing is, even if I enforced the no-phone rule and allowed her to use the laptop, we would be in the same pickle. Her laptop is an Internet browser, of course. But, it's also a portal to Facebook and all her other social media. With Skype and LiveChat, it's also a phone. Basically, the promise of convergence that helped create (and eventually pop) the dot com bubble is alive and well in my daughter's bedroom. This creates much convenience for the teens and much confusion (and consternation) for the parents.

So the question is ... the next time I need her to "get to bed already," do I call her? Text her? Skype her? Post it on her Facebook wall? 

Nah. I'm an analog girl; I'll just yell up the stairs.

If you enjoyed this post, order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.