You’ve seen those old movies where college girls run excitedly to the communal phone in the center hallway when they receive a call from home sweet home or better yet, a beau.
In my day it wasn’t quite so archaic, though my children would believe that it was, but it was still primitive compared to today. We had one shared phone in our suite among as many as 10 of us (sophomore year) and the brave soul who volunteered to put the phone in her name would get the weighty bill every month. We ran on the honor system — each of us highlighting our calls with yellow marker — and then we’d pay up. Invariably, there would be a discrepancy of some sort that would take until the arrival of the next bill to solve.
Wow, times have changed, and with it the frequency of communication between parents and their college-age children. Unless it was an emergency or some other call of necessity, I probably communicated with my own parents once a month if even that. No news was good news. We have two girls in college this year, and each has a completely different style. If we don’t hear from Katie at least every other day, it’s cause to feel unsettled. If we hear from Molly more than once a week, it’s also cause to feel unsettled — which is why I have an alternative way to check to make sure she’s okay. You might consider it spying, of sorts.
It has to do with banks and the big brother way they know everything that is going on in your financial life and therefore your spending habits, where you are, and even what you are doing. I know this because just this week I received a phone call from my banker explaining that while our current type of account was perfect for us, we might want to reconsider that very soon. I was taken aback — how did he know this? Well of course, he had access to everything and knew that we had one kid about to graduate from college. I guess I just have to trust that he, like every other banker or teller who comes across your accounts, is a standup kind of person who leaves his work at work and doesn’t take your private information home with him and is blabby with it.
Much in the same way my bank can track my spending and know what I’m up to, I can “spy” on my kids by logging into their bank accounts. It’s more than about being nosy; it’s a good way to reassure myself that my kids are safe and doing what they’re supposed to be in the place they’re supposed to be.
So on a recent weekend, I logged into Molly’s account and saw that — check — there was a $42 charge to Metro North (yes she had successfully bought her ticket to New York and presumably was there) and — check — there was a $24 charge at Virgil’s Barbecue (yummy lunch, yay!) and — check — there was another $15 at Serendipity (I had no idea those trademark hot chocolates were so expensive) and then — WHOA!!! — almost $40 at a place called “Smoking Tattoos” !??!! What was that?
I had a twinge of momentary panic before I reassured myself that 1.) Molly had too much sense to get a tattoo when she knew how much Bill and I disapproved of tattoos and unusual piercings and that 2.) $40 probably couldn’t buy a tattoo today. But COULD IT?
Do you think I have anything to worry about, I asked a friend as we sat together on the bleachers the next morning at Will’s baseball tournament. Nah.
That night, Molly put the suspense to rest herself. In her usual Sunday night call, she said, “Mom, we all went to the Village last night and Ashley, her friend, and Grace all got belly piercings (be still, my beating heart!) but Mom, don’t worry, I didn’t get one.” (Phew!) I didn’t have cash so I had to use my card to charge a pair of earrings I really liked but I knew it would show up on my bank card and you would see a sketch place and be worried.”
Ah, I do love that child. Actually, as I told Bill, I had to give her a lot of credit for not giving into peer pressure. I don’t know if I would have done so well at the age of 18 if I were out with friends and they all wanted to do something they considered cool and bonding.
I’d like to think that Molly’s sensibility prevailed. The alternative is that she might have taken my threats seriously. You see, I have a friend who also disapproves of tattoos and piercings and has told her children that as long as they live under her roof, if they come home with such a thing, she will bar them from coming in the door.
I have a slightly different approach. I’ve told all three of my kids that if they get any kind of tattoo or piercing on their bodies — I will go out and get the exact same thing! And then I will proceed to flaunt whatever it is merrily out in public at any time, but especially in front of their friends, making it a point to make special appearances in school. The image of me in a midriff baring my belly pierced by a shiny ring or shaking a heart tattoo on my hip is frightening enough to be a deterrent for the girls.
As for Will, who recently asked if he might get an ear pierced — I’d like to believe he was kidding — the idea of Bill showing up with the same in front of his friends saying, hey, dudes, wassup — will scare him straight forever on that idea.
