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I hwhy-moms-fail-the-reliability-testave a bit of a problem with my phone. I HATE IT. Well, I don’t exactly hate it. I am lost without it. I hate my reliance on it, and other’s reliance on finding me. Last weekend, my husband said it best.

“You need to make sure you answer your phone, we are relying on you.”

I wanted to tell him he was putting his money on the wrong horse. As an adult with ADHD, it is frightening to think anyone relied on me. Besides, what happened when we didn’t have cell phones? I don’t ever remember my dad worrying about where my mom was or I don’t remember ever needing to contact my mom immediately. When my mom went out or my dad went out, eventually they would turn up or phone us. They weren’t on call 24/7.

Carrying a phone is another issue. I try to get the clip on the back of my phone, but inevitably it falls off, and I have to go for the big save before it makes its way into the toilet for a swim. Men get away a bit easier when carrying phones.  Pants are conducive to cell phone clips, or they can store them in their pockets. Besides, all they need to do is unzip to release so they don’t have to worry about Nemo making cell phone calls.  The vibration? That’s an extra bonus.

Women on the other hand, have it buried in a purse three times the size of a lunch box, usually with the volume turned down. This is usually the case with me, unless of course, it is in the middle of the night.

That’s when it’s usually turned up.

When this happens, my husband nearly hits the ceiling thinking we have an emergency.

“What’s going on? Is everything OK?” he will ask.

“Oh yeah...I can handle it” I say, as I lean over to notice a new Twitter message, knowing that I am in the dog house.

“Well is there an emergency?”

“Um...kind of...”

A blank stare.

“Who called?”

“It wasn’t a call..It was a tweet.”


“Well it’s not 2 in the morning in Japan, and my business is growing.”

So now the phone has a new home in the kitchen.

Another thought my husband had, was to get a cord that vibrates letting me know that my phone is going off. All I could think of was at what point we draw the line before we are completely violated. That sounded like a prisoner release program.

So in attempt to get my phone calls and save the world in the process, I am looking for suggestions on how to remember where my volume is, before my new home ends up in the kitchen, right next to the phone.

For more work by me, visit Thought I Was Perfect.  

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