Computer-Aided Life

When I was young, some TV shows were still in black and white. There were no microwaves. And when we grew bored, my mother would tell us to go outside and play.
Each of my kids has a computer and a cell phone. My 15-year-old has set up an elaborate stereo system. The 17-year-old just received an XBox 360 in addition to all his other video game systems. They all play World of Warcraft, in addition to other MMORPGs. And each gets a new computer every two years or so.
My mother says the kids are spoiled. As usual, she brings up my sister, saying that my sister only has one computer in the entire house. Well, my sister isn't homeschooling her kids, and her kids aren't separated from their friends in their old home town.
In addition, since the family doesn't use a landline, they're constantly talking or texting on their cells, and when someone's cell ring goes off, it's confusing finding the phone and figuring out whose it is. That would drive me nuts!
I don't closely monitor my kids' activities on the Internet any more. They learned the hard way after having to restore their hard drives when they visited porn sites and crack sites.
I'm the worst one when it comes to my computer. I email constantly, even if it's to my mom, who lives just across the highway. In fact, I prefer to email her because she has difficulty sleeping, and I hate to disturb her with a phone call. Email gives recipients the option of answering when they have the time, so I much prefer it to using the phone.
I record my schedule on Outlook. I contact potential employers via online portals and email. I developed the Web site, graphics and labels for my mom's and my infant venture via computer. I search out festivals. I take online classes.
And I play games. My kids think I'm a Text Twist junkie, but I like the way it makes my brain work differently. I used to play Diablo, but the kids broke my CD, and I'm too cheap to buy another.
I remember, way back when Atari had the best game systems, that I never thought I'd depend on computers this much. Boy, was I wrong!