When I was in high school, I didn’t have a cell phone.  Actually, I’m not even sure if it was invented yet.  If it was, then probably only the movers and shakers of the world had them.

What I did have was a “landline.”  Cord and all.

I remember talking on the phone under dining table.  Then walking around the sofa and plopping down by the open front door.  The was the maximum radius of my phone’s cord.

I wasn’t popular, so I wasn’t on the phone like those teenagers you see on television.  You know what I mean.  The “older sister” who spent hours on the phone, in the closet, talking to her BFFs or boyfriend.  I was far too busy to be on the phone.

Volleyball, my medical classes, and real life friends occupied my time.

Even the computer barely took my precious time.  The computer was reserved for using the “Dictionary” and typing up essays for my classes.  I had AOL like everyone else, but I can’t even really remember what I used it for.  Although I must admit that I like hearing that, “YOU’VE GOT MAIL!” notification!

And of course, to use the internet, one cannot be on the phone – and vice versa.

Come college, I finally bought a cell phone.  It was probably when everybody started having one too.  You just weren’t a real college kid without one.  It was necessary.  I don’t exactly know why, but it felt like it was.

And I had my own laptop too.  That was even cooler.  Sure, it was huge and heavy, but hey, I didn’t have to wait in line at the computer lab just so I could check my email or write a report.  And yes, I used my credit card for that $1,500 worth of necessary accessory.  I needed it.  Really, I did.

I was a cow.  I was part of the herd.  I moved when they moved.  I upgraded when they upgraded.

And here I am.  Still a cow.  But a smaller, smarter cow.  I don’t jump on the wagon right away.  I research, I wait, I compare…..then I jump on the wagon.

But this video got me thinking, “What happened to me?”

I am no longer in high school, nor am I in college.  I am a wife and a mother.

A cell phone and computer combined into one smartphone does not need my attention as much as my kids or husband do.

My smartphone does not have moments to treasure like my children have every minute of the day.

My smartphone does not need me to tell it I love it like my husband and kids do.

My smartphone will not die without me – but my husband and kids just might.

So why is my smartphone getting most of my time?

No more.

Priorities rearranged.

This momma is no longer a smartphoneaholic.

Because I am needed somewhere else by somebody.  Always.

And that, my dears, is a good thing.