I don’t usually rant about my kids but let today be an exception.

My children are like any other children of their generation — there are iPods, an XBox, one laptop and a PC. Now my daughter, God love her, has always been quite technologically savvy. She could operate the VCR — remember those? — easily by the age of two, which explains why I saw “Beauty and The Beast” and “The Little Mermaid” possibly five billion times. My son has always relied on his sister, therefore, to sort out any technical issues. I was only called upon when the God-awful PC (a Compaq, don’t EVER buy one) was acting up and my daughter couldn’t figure out what to do.

But now my daughter is living many miles away, at university back in Canada, so suddenly I am expected to be the technical wizard. And it never ends.

“Mom? My iPod isn’t working. Come fix it.”

“Mom? I think I messed up my cellphone address book. Come fix it.”

“Mom? The PC froze up. Come fix it.”

“Mom? The XBox is acting weird. Come fix it.”

“Mom? The TV went blank. Come fix it.”

Today, after a long, hard day at work, I arrived to: “Mom? The XBox won’t go live anymore. Come fix it.”

I handed him the number of the XBox 360 support people and told him to call. He looked mortified. “I hate talking to people on the phone,” he said, astonished. (No surprise there — this generation does NOT TALK on the phone. It is all IMing, Facebooking, e-mailing and, for my son and his pals, yapping through their XBox Live headsets).

“Who doesn’t?” I replied. “Call them.”

We argued bitterly for a moment and I ended up making the call, figuring they might need credit card information. She talks us through resetting the Wireless. It says it’s connected. We hang up. Sure enough, even though it says it’s connected, it’s not connected.

The plaintive plea arises from my son’t basement gaming lair (complete with fireplace, I might add!)

“Mom? The XBox Live still isn’t working. Come fix it.”

And this is when I snapped.

“No!” I shouted down the stairs.  “I gave you the phone number and the reference number, so you call them back. I don’t even understand how the stinking XBox works. It took me two weeks to get the wireless up and running here, and I am still having trouble managing the basics of satellite TV. I am NOT an IT person. But you are 14! You’re supposed to be part of the genius techie generation! I should be calling YOU upstairs to come fix things for ME! You better figure it out, mister, because I’m not your own private IT person! Get with the program and start learning how to do this stuff! No self-respecting young man should be asking his mother to fix his XBox or his cellphone! Stop it! Stop it right now!”

Silence. Not a peep since.

Seriously, though — in addition to being a laundress, a cook, a social and academic organizer, a house cleaner, a pep-talk giver, an attentive listener, a clothes buyer and everything else that is required when your someone’s mother, I am also expected to be a technical wizard? NO! NO WE CAN’T!

My friend Carol and her husband are total ‘tards when it comes to anything technological and have to rely on their 15-year-old son to do everything for them, from programming the PVR to setting up a new computer. Why can’t I have one of those??

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