I was a grown woman before I realized that people purchased art. As in: they said, “Hey! Let’s put something on that wall, there,” and they got in the car and drove to a gallery or whatever and picked something out and schlepped it home and hung it on the wall.

I was surprised to learn this, because in the Original Interrupted household, art was supplied by my mom. She was a traditional homemaker in the true 50’s – 60’s style…she stayed home, cooked, cleaned, did laundry, and she painted all the pictures in the house. To my young mind, I thought that providing art was the role of the mother, along with baking brownies and starting dinner.

Of course, now I know that it’s unusual to have any relative who is a critically-acclaimed artist, much less your mom. But back in the day, I used to worry about how I’d ever take care of my family when *I* grew up, because I couldn’t draw my way out of a paperbag.

I have passed a similar concern on to my own kids, I’m afraid, but with a slightly more modern twist. I am not an artist, no. But I am the family IT support person. I am the one who gets called when the wireless router doesn’t work, or if a password won’t connect, or when anyone buys a new computer.

While it pleases me to have avoided the cliche of the parent having to be tutored by the child in using the computer, it can be distressing when certain individuals won’t follow my instructions and they won’t quit downloading Star Trek videos using suspect bit torrents and keep polluting their registries and then they complain about their POS computer that keeps freezing up and need it thawed RIGHT NOW, just when I’m in the middle of my own important work. Not that I’m singling anyone out here.

Not me. Any similarity to people living or dead is PURELY COINCIDENTAL. Right, honey???

Not too long ago, though, my youngest son speculated that he would need to make sure that his wife would be able to handle the IT needs of the family, at least as well as I do.

I don’t even know where to start with that.