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Parenting Perspectives: It's weird when moms use Bitmoji

FARGO -- It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think -- deep down -- they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their lo...

bitmoji mom.jpg
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FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless. But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified. That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes. So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase. I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps. Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this:

3025408+wine time.jpg

The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible). After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]  My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy." My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.) Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything. That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen. Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation: Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything? Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks." Daughter: Stop Bitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean". Daughter: It's weird Bitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it." Daughter: You're so weird. [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]] Daughter: Wow. Real mature. Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?" Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird (I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.) Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though. Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!" At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have. (By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:) [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]] FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless. But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified. That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes. So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase. I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps. Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible). After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this:

3025409+how's it going.jpg

  My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy." My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.) Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything. That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen. Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation: Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything? Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks." Daughter: Stop Bitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean". Daughter: It's weird Bitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it." Daughter: You're so weird. [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]] Daughter: Wow. Real mature. Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?" Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird (I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.) Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though. Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!" At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have. (By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:) [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]] FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless. But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified. That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes. So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase. I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps. Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible). After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]  My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy." My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.) Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything. That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen. Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation: Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything? Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks." Daughter: Stop Bitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean". Daughter: It's weird Bitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it." Daughter: You're so weird.
Daughter: Wow. Real mature. Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?" Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird (I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.) Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though. Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!" At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have. (By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:) [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]] FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless. But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified. That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes. So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase. I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps. Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible). After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this: [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]  My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy." My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.) Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything. That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen. Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation: Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything? Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks." Daughter: Stop Bitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean". Daughter: It's weird Bitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it." Daughter: You're so weird. [[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]] Daughter: Wow. Real mature. Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?" Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird (I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.) Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though. Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!" At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have. (By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:)

121316.BitmojiMom.5.png

FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless.But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified.That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes.So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase.I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps.Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this:

3025408+wine time.jpg

The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible).After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy."My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.)Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything.That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen.Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation:Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything?Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks."Daughter: StopBitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean".Daughter: It's weirdBitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it."Daughter: You're so weird.[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]]Daughter: Wow. Real mature.Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?"Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird(I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.)Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though.Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!"At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have.(By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:)[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]]FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless.But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified.That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes.So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase.I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps.Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible).After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this:

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3025409+how's it going.jpg

 My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy."My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.)Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything.That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen.Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation:Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything?Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks."Daughter: StopBitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean".Daughter: It's weirdBitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it."Daughter: You're so weird.[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]]Daughter: Wow. Real mature.Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?"Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird(I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.)Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though.Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!"At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have.(By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:)[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]]FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless.But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified.That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes.So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase.I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps.Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible).After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy."My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.)Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything.That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen.Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation:Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything?Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks."Daughter: StopBitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean".Daughter: It's weirdBitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it."Daughter: You're so weird.
Daughter: Wow. Real mature.Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?"Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird(I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.)Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though.Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!"At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have.(By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:)[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025383","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"11543","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"900"}}]]FARGO - It's a weird dynamic we moms have with our children over technology. While they act slightly annoyed trying to teach us how to use apps like Snapchat or Instagram, I think - deep down - they enjoy it. It's a chance to reaffirm their long-suspected belief that anyone born prior to 1985 is clueless.But when we oldsters actually embrace said technology they're mortified.That's why, for example, platforms like Facebook lost their luster with young users a long time ago. It was all downhill when moms learned how to post cat videos and strawberry rhubarb pie recipes.So, teenagers find new platforms to use. But we find them. They drop them. They find another new one. We find those, and so on ... it's a never-ending cat-and-mouse chase.I wanted to submit proof of just how the mortification plays out when moms embrace these new apps.Exhibit A: a text conversation I recently had with my 14-year-old daughter after I was introduced to Bitmoji. In this case, I was introduced to the technology from my very young and cool coworkers, who were born after 1985 (so they're legit). Bitmoji is an app that allows users to create personalized emojis that look like them. So instead of texting friends that you want to grab a glass of wine after work, you can send this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025408","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]]The possibilities are endless and really fun. My coworkers helped me design the avatar to look like me (or as much like me as reasonably possible).After creating my avatar, I was so excited and wanted to text my daughters to make sure they knew - at least today - I am really awesome. So, I sent this:[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025409","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"398","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"730"}}]] My 12-year-old texted back, "Oh boy."My 14-year-old was maintaining radio silence and didn't reply, presumably because she was watching inappropriate things on Netflix. (But I digress.)Later that night, I got home from a meeting to find my husband had taken both girls out for ice cream. My 14-year-old texted me to see if I wanted them to bring me home anything.That's when I attempted to bridge the generation gap once again through Bitmoji. This conversation pretty much sums up communicating with a teen.Every time I responded to my daughter, I used a Bitmoji image rather than text. This is just part of our conversation:Daughter: We're going to Coldstone, do you want anything?Bitmoji Tracy with shrugging shoulders: "No thanks."Daughter: StopBitmoji pouting Tracy with arms crossed: "You're mean".Daughter: It's weirdBitmoji Tracy now wearing Terminator sunglasses: "Deal with it."Daughter: You're so weird.[[{"type":"media","view_mode":"media_original","fid":"3025378","attributes":{"alt":"","class":"media-image","height":"625","title":"","typeof":"foaf:Image","width":"675"}}]]Daughter: Wow. Real mature.Bitmoji Tracy blinged out like a rapper: "Talkin to me?"Daughter: That reaches a new level of weird(I reply to this by sending an even weirder Bitmoji of me in a two-toned Sia wig covering my little Bitmoji eyes.)Daughter: You're such a dork. I love you though.Bitmoji Tracy pointing and winking: "Back at ya!"At least she said she loves me after what had to be an embarrassing exchange for her. This won't deter me from taking on all the new technology as it surfaces. Some I'll use, others not so much. But I'll keep trying as much as it might be annoying to my children. I might be a weird dork, but I'm the only weird dork mom they have.(By the way, here's the full conversation using Bitmoji replies:)

121316.BitmojiMom.5.png

Tracy Briggs is an Emmy-nominated News, Lifestyle and History reporter with Forum Communications with more than 35 years of experience, in broadcast, print and digital journalism.
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