The only occupants of the Teen Section at the Stillwater Public Library looked to be about ten years old, and I assumed actual teenagers most likely thought of themselves as too cool for the area, which is strategically located next to the watchful eyes of the circulation desk staff. As I waited to check out my books, (despite my vow to listen to my doctor and "throw out the baby books," I'm now reading The Happiest Baby on the Block - more on that later) the snippet of conversation I overheard from the two girls seated at the computers threw me 10 years into a future I probably won't recognize a decade from now. The one girl was asking her friend if she had a Facebook account, as if she had just discovered something no one else knew about. (Would she have thought it was cool if she knew her parents made up the fastest growing demographic on the site?) The girl answered no and seemed genuinely disinterested, while her friend reacted as if she was so much cooler because she was on Facebook and the other girl barely knew what it was.

I've already relayed this story to my dad, who just narrowly escaped raising children coming of age in the Internet era, but who, as a soccer coach until recently, has mentored a generation of kids growing up in a much different world than my teenage years. The first e-mail I sent was in 1995 and was considered a novelty, but it wasn't until I entered college in 1997 that I became a regular user (or addict). However, even as e-mail use exploded, my cohort's utilization of the easy communication tool was still innocent. In one instance, a charming, good-looking and outgoing floormate was left in a rare state of embarrassment upon the discovery of a cheesy e-mail he supposedly wrote to the whole school to publicly express his love for our RA. In fact, the e-mail was sent by the computer science boyfriend of our RA (who was in on the prank) to just our floor (but was made to look like it had gone out to the whole student body). Then there was the time my roommate didn't log out of her e-mail and went to take a nap and two guys from the floor below who were hanging out in our suite decided to write an e-mail from her account and send it to the whole dorm. It was so over-the-top that anyone reading it should have realized it was just a gag, but that didn't stop about ten people showing up at my door within minutes of the e-mail going out to say with a combined genuine disbelief and glee over the latest gossip that they never knew Julie felt that way about John. Julie woke up from the commotion and John and Dwight immediately issued a clarifying e-mail - from one of their own accounts - and the incident was quickly filed away as a happy memory from our "wild and crazy" college days. The most mischievous our e-mail pranking became was when my other roommate was dumped by her boyfriend, who thought he was God's gift to women. She either knew his password, or just got lucky by stumbling upon a computer he'd failed to log himself out of in the main library of our very small school, and changed the sender from his name to "I think I'm God's gift to women." Ah, those innocent days. Now teenagers are being arrested for "sexting," spring break pictures (or even just an image of a beer in an underage kid's hand) are disqualifying students from graduation ceremonies or even jobs, and people are spending years trying to erase vicious rumors from websites devoted solely to "outing" guys who are considered bad dates or women on campus who are supposedly "sluts."

Bullying, spreading rumors, cliques - this all existed in my day. But camera phones, text messaging, the ability to send videos or digital photos over e-mail, You Tube and social networking sites - these weren't around to make poor adolescent judgement (and not that only adolescents are guilty of poor judgement in the use of technology) that much more damaging. So when I overheard the conversation between the two girls about Facebook, my immediate reaction was "Uh oh, do their parents have a clue what's going on?" I don't think a ten-year-old has the maturity to understand the implications of her use of a site like Facebook. I'm actually a lot less worried about the stranger danger we hear about so often on the news and more about her posting a picture she shouldn't have, opening herself up to bullying (whether as a victim or perpetrator) or even just hurting a friend's feelings. As a 30-year-old, I've been hurt by discovering via Facebook that I wasn't invited out with a group of friends. To a 10-year-old, seeing pictures of the sleepover party she wasn't invited to is devastating.

So on the phone with my dad, I was insisting that the computer in our house will be in a public place and that when my kids are older, any computer they use in their rooms to do homework won't have Internet access. They won't have private e-mail accounts until a certain age and those options on cell phones to block texting during certain hours (such as during the school day!) or to limit calling to specific people will be taken advantage of.

But then I wonder why I'm worrying about this now. I can't predict what the technology will be in ten years and what issues my children will face. I thought I was cool when we got a second line in the house and I could talk to my friends whenever I wanted to on "my line" without tying up the main number. I don't know if my parents gave much concern to their decision, because the implications weren't that dire. But they probably never predicted that one day kids would have their own phones - tiny ones they could hide from their parents, take pictures with or text at all hours of the night (when they should be studying or sleeping) to who knows who. Gone seem to be the days when parents knew more or less who their kids were talking with, because those friends had to call the house and actually identify themselves to whomever picked up the phone. And they were forced to call at a decent hour too, or risk an angry parent answering the phone.

I also know I can limit technology, but not ban it. As much as I wish something like cell phones (or whatever we're going to be using in ten years) existed only for my convenience, but would be of no interest to my kids until of an age I consider appropriate, I'm guessing there's going to be a power struggle. I can only hope that Chris and I will stay on top of new technologies and what kids are into and be able to set appropriate limits and expectations. I won't let their be free reign. I've witnessed a number of instances where a parent is trying to talk to a kid who's too tuned into his or her iPod and cell phone to bother even looking up. "That won't be my kid," I practically scream when I get on a rant.

In essence, no matter what the world looks like in ten years, or what rules I say now that I'm going to have, in essence what I'm promising to do is actually parent. But God still help me.