A few months ago, my then-12-year-old starting wiggling his thumbs in the air and asked, “Who am I?”

It was a not-so-subtle hint that I was spending too much time using the slideout keyboard on my smartphone to send text messages, check e-mail and look up miscellaneous trivia.

So I downgraded. I said goodbye to the keyboard and hello to a touch-screen that’s such a pain to type on that I actually started using my phone to (gasp) talk when I needed to communicate. Not all the time, but often enough that I suspect my kids actually miss the days when I would tap out a quick message without having to do something obnoxious, like take my attention off what they’re saying.

More recently, in anticipation of having to go hands-free, I began buying different devices that, in theory, would hold my phone in place while I chatted. In reality, it started a new era marked by what I can only term “phone rage.”

The cradle attached to the windshield with a suction cup blocked the volume and voice activation buttons, but that didn’t matter as much as the way it kept popping off and taking my phone with it as it flew around the car.

Adhesive hooks seemed promising, but it took three tries to get one to stick securely enough to hold my phone, and the sticky stuff soon melted in the heat.

So I gave up. Thanks to Bluetooth, I don’t really need my phone to be attached to anything. With the earpiece on, I don’t even have to take my phone out of my purse, assuming that the earpiece stays in place and I don’t have to use the voice recognition software. Lucky we live Hawaiçi, except when we’re trying to get some program to understand what we’re trying to say, or vice versa.

It took me a while to realize that “Cane-oh” is “Käne‘ohe,” but I find some degree of amusement in trying to decipher my options or figure out how to pronounce something to trigger the correct response.

Mostly, though, I’m just saying, “No,” or “go back” before expressing disgust, which inevitably triggers some incorrect, though sometimes appropriate options from my contact list. I’ve started just asking my son to take the phone to pass along messages I could have typed in 10 seconds.
Residents in states with similar laws have managed to figure out how to keep both hands on the wheel while talking on the phone, so I’m sure the solution is out there. But unless I run across something better, I suspect my son will regret mocking my endless thumb-typing because it turns out he might be the most functional hands-free replacement.

I looked at a press release about Colin Farrell being the sexiest single dad, considered the source: Date.com, Matchmaker.com and Amor.com. So I moved on.

But then I went back. Because if you're going to do an online survey trying to find the sexiest single dad, why wouldn't you ask people going online looking for men? Well, actually, it's because Colin Farrell is sharing the title with Jack Nicholson. Who is 70. And -- according to the women who participated in the survey -- is almost 9 percentage points sexier than Farrell. I agree.

I think it was the way that the genders ranked these 10 men that captured my attention. Or more specifically, where they put David Duchovny. Men put the as-seen-on-TV-sex-addict Duchovny at No. 2. Women put him in 8th, just over Guy Ritchie and Robin Williams (I assume this was a "pick one" sort of poll, not a chance to fill in the blanks). That's pretty much saying that he's lost just about all his appeal. (He also might not be single.)

Are the men who participated in the poll more forgiving or jealous? Women, I'm guessing, would just have trust issues.

Anyway, grab a grain of salt and review the results as reported by Avalance LLC, owner of the online dating sites:

MEN

Colin Farrell 25.0%
David Duchovny 16.7%
Guy Ritchie 14.5%
Jude Law 12.0%
Jaime Foxx 10.6%
Robin Williams 9.8%
Jack Nicholson 8.3%
Ryan Phillippe 8.3%
Eminem 3.1%

WOMEN
Jack Nicholson 21.1%
Jude Law 15.8%
Jaime Foxx 15.8%
Colin Farrell 12.4%
Ryan Phillippe 10.5%
Eminem 9.8%
David Duchovny 6.4%
Guy Ritchie 5.3%
Robin Williams 3.1%

There are 12 million single parents with children under the age of 18 currently dating in the United States. There are more than 300,000 single Fathers using Date.com, Matchmaker.com and Amor.com to date.

He might have looked pained during the process, but he was smiling afterward.

I got one last hug out of my son before he headed off to bed as a tween for the last time.
He humored me, but as I wrapped my arms around him, he rolled his eyes and said, "I’m not going to feel any different tomorrow, you know.”

As if that was the point. Right then, it was all about me. How can I be old enough to have a teenage kid when I still vividly remember him as a baby? I can still picture the ultrasound of this stubborn child nine days after his due date — so big that we couldn’t see much more than his spine and the knees positioned modestly to conceal his private bits, which meant his gender remained a surprise until we finally forced him out of the womb two days later with a Pitocin drip.

Burned into my mind is the cover of the book I brought to the neonatal intensive care unit with me every day for a week while my son recovered from pneumonia. It was “The Cunning Man” by Robertson Davies. Despite all the hours I sat in an uncomfortable rocking chair next to my sleeping newborn, I didn’t finish reading the book until after I’d taken my son home because I couldn’t read more than a few sentences at a time before looking up to see if that wondrous newborn was awake so I could take him into my arms.

When he was finally healthy enough to nurse, I can still see the surprise and delight on his face as he ravenously drained me, thus initiating a series of demands that have changed with his needs and interests, but maintain the same level of impatience and intensity to this day. Our lives are very different than they were 13 years ago. For instance, we now seem to be moving at warp speed, the only reasonable explanation for how so much time has  passed.

But other things are just the same, like my son being the same driving force in my life he’s been since the day I discovered he was on his way. He’s inspired me creatively, academically, professionally and, of course, maternally as well. His little sister is part of our lives because my son taught us that the joys of parenthood far outweigh the challenges (something I often need to remind myself).

Each time one of my children reaches a milestone, someone inevitably says, “Enjoy it while you can because it’s only going to get harder.” And if I’ve learned anything over the past 13 years, it’s that it’s true. It gets harder, almost by the minute. But those minutes fly by so quickly and even when time seems to grind almost to a halt during a moment of crisis, once we’re through it I discover that no considerable time has passed at all and we’re on to something else before I can even catch my breath.

Of course it’s going to get harder, but that’s not what matters. If 13 years can feel like a nanosecond, then there’s no time to waste worrying about what’s going to happen because it’s much more important to make the most of these fleeting moments.

I have the rest of today and tomorrow before I officially become the mother of a teenager.

Another way to put this is that I have a 12-year-old. A 12-year-old who thinks video games are cooler than girls (or at least I hope that's still the case). Bottom line: I have the kind of 12-year-old who drives his mom insane because he never checks his cell phone messages, which means the phone beeps, rings and buzzes constantly as a reminder.

Last night, for the sake of my own sanity, I told him I was going to delete all his messages and took his blank look in my direction as a sign of assent. Turns out he just doesn't listen or read to MY messages because he'd checked others. Except for this one, forwarded multiple times and making its way to him from someone who isn't in his contact list. I almost deleted this text message before returning his phone, but instead handed it to him and informed him that stuff like this is not okay:

1. Did you know kissing is good for you?

2. Did you know chocolate actually help your "tummy" when its hurting.

3. 79% of guys would rather you make the 1st move. 

3: More guys will read this than girls.

4: Fact: Guys love when you wear their hoodie or jacket.

5:Only a true gf/bf will cry infront of you.

6: girls would like it if you bought them flowers for Valentines Day.

7: If you have a dream bout someone, that person went to sleep thinking about you.

8:Girls love it when guys hug them around there waist.

9:Guys think its cute when you mess up.

10:A true bf/gf will hug or kiss you infront of his or her parents.

In 10 mintues someone will text or call you and say "Will you go out with me", or "Baby i want you." But 1st you have to send this to 10 people. :] No send backs! 

      -&$heBomb

The good news is that because he hadn't actually checked the message, he didn't forward it to 10 people in time (and was forbidden to do it, period) so we didn't see if the chain text worked its magic and no one called to tell him, "Baby I want you." (I think it's good news, anyway.)

The bad news is that I can only assume this is tame compared to what's to come.

“Let’s talk about sex, baby...”
Yep. Things have gotten so bad that I’m quoting a Salt-N-Pepa song I’ve never liked and find those particular lyrics still illicit the same reaction they always have: “Nooooooooooooo!!!!”
These days, though, it’s because my baby is talking about sex.

In a matter of days, I’ll be the mother of a teenager who has already been given “The Talk” and been encouraged to ask questions along the way. If he needs to gather information, I’m more than happy to provide a mommified version of the facts of life.
It’s my 5-year-old whose questions are giving me grief. The last question she asked was what it means when a boy calls her “baby” (using the “be-beh” pronunciation). I said it means that the only reason why she shouldn’t slap him is because it’s not okay to hit.
We had a similar exchange when one of her boys she knows called her and a bunch of other girls “gay.” I tried to sidestep it by saying that it meant that they were all happy, but she wasn’t buying it because she knew he meant it as an insult. I told her that what he meant was that he was ignorant and intolerant and launched into a diatribe about how using harmless words in a derogatory way only perpetuates prejudice and prevents us from evolving as a society.

Then realizing I was only adding to her confusion, I simplified things by telling her that it meant that her tormentor obviously had absolutely no idea what he was talking about and he should ask his own mom what it means before he uses the word again.
Lately, it seems like every time I run into a parent with a child roughly my daughter’s age, we end up on the same topic. At schools across the island, both public and private, our kids are talking about sex without having the faintest idea of what they’re actually saying. They might be hearing it from older siblings, on TV, on the radio or, in my daughter’s case, from her peers. And like parrots, they’re just mimicking the words without any comprehension of the meaning.
As someone who does know what the words mean, I’m wondering what the implications are. We’re always talking about kids growing up too soon, babies having babies and raising children in a world where former Disney celebrities go off the deep-end once they get kicked out of the Mickey Mouse Club.
Maybe it’s harmless. My daughter doesn’t gush about the boys she knows and, if anything, is more apt to complain about them. But more and more the complaints seem to revolve around language that’s too mature — and often degrading to boot — and I can’t help but be saddened that at a time when the country is poised for change, the youngest generation hasn’t gotten the memo... or at least doesn’t know how to read it yet.