I just got back from an "unplugged" vacation, at the lake where I checked my phone daily for Wi-Fi or data access, but only managed to sneak a peak at facebook and e-mail for 20 minutes or so, late Friday afternoon. Saturday night, I got home and after the kids were bathed and in bed, I settled down for some long overdue "nettime."
Don't ask me why. Hours later, I was none the wiser about anything important. If any friend had a crisis or a celebration, it was lost in days of cluttered posts. The "news" articles I read were short on facts but long on links. I read an article about new guidelines for child car seat use, which referred to a 5-point checklist for when your child is ready to move out of a booster seat and use adult seatbelts. The checklist was not in the article, only a link that led to . . . . NOT A CHECKLIST, and after a few additional clicks on likely-looking links, still no checklist.
I moved on, not letting this one little glitch get in the way of all the INSTANTANEOUS awesomeness of the internet. Next up, an article about public breastfeeding, which I could tell would be GOOD because of the comparison to all the over-exposed, oversexualized images and attire we see everywhere. Never mind that my days of public breastfeeding were a mere blip on the radar of my life story. The three weeks per child between the "half-hour per side thank-you-very-much-mom" newborn days, and the "oooh, look at all that stuff I've never seen before" phase of a slightly more alert 4-month-old, was a very small window, during which I never experienced any unpleasant intrusions from strangers.
About five minutes into the article, I was getting riled up, for really no reason. Realistically the two to three morons who managed to make headlines by bullying breastfeeding women, are no more significant to "womankind" everywhere than the two or three morons who park across two parking spaces in the hell-lot at 14 mile and Orchard Lake.
Then I made the mistake of reading a few comments. Sure enough, within the first few, someone made mention of God, which is, on the internet, an automatic trigger for someone to claim the point made is invalid because it depends on belief in a "sky fairy."
At this point, I logged off, but my brain was still logged on, and I started wondering, what value am I getting out of all this internet information? It's all geared to short attention spans, which is not really a problem that I'm afflicted with. And it's all steeped in distance, anonymity and lack of accountability. Make an error online, and if you get called out on it, you can just update, and pretend it never happened. Or ignore it because no one knows who you really are anyway.
In real life, I can't imagine any of my friends, who know me, who know my level of intelligence, skepticism and integrity, dismissing my real belief in God, as a fantasy of a "sky fairy." If anyone would, I'd welcome an opportunity to discuss our beliefs over coffee (or over drinks if that's your preference). But I suspect, that's not a conversation most of us want to engage in, in the "real world." So why do we engage in it online?
For a week, I was unconnected. And I didn't miss anything. One day, I wondered about that famous Canadian hockey player, whose name I couldn't remember. So I asked someone (no, NOT Google) and then I did my head-slap, "of course, Wayne Gretzky, how did I forget that?"
I'm thinking about how to spend less time online. About limiting my access to "lunchbreak" or late evening. Resisting the urge to "clickthrough" to that interesting, controversial and ultimately, meaningless article. Because isn't what's really at stake, what happens in reality? In MY life, under MY sphere of control and influence? The idiocy of some stranger half-way across the country shouldn't really be getting under my skin. Let their own friends and family step up to their support. I've got enough on my plate.
I realize it's a bit hypocritical to be posting this ONLINE. I'm not saying there isn't anything of value online, or that it's not possible to make real connections and real friends. But I need to focus, and make sure the time I'm spending here is enhancing my life, not depleting my hope for the future of humanity.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
This is why I went on Strike
I spent some time with the kids toys recently, for the first time since I went on Toy Strike about two years ago. Toy Strike is my refusal to have anything to do with toys. I will not clean them up, organize them, fix them or find them. I had to do this for my own sanity.
Back when I had one one-year old baby, I read that you shouldn't overload your child with too many toys. Choose a small selection and rotate the toys weekly. Toy rotation became my Sunday night chore. I'd watch Law and Order Criminal Intent, and I'd assemble the toys, neatly organized in their clear plastic storage boxes, and bring out the next set. I'd even do cool things like arrange various stuffed animals and small toys in fun little action scenes ready for the child to enjoy.
That was before what I now call the 2nd Christmas Toy Explosion. In case you are a new parent, let me explain. You think you have the toy situation under control. Your baby has a few favorite toys and LOVES them. Your child will be perfectly content with these few cherished items. There is no way, you think, no way, you will ever let your home turn into a Toy-opolis, like some of those other parents who obviously just can't manage to say no.
It's simple, you just inform the grandparents and other friends and relatives that you'd prefer they not give toys as gifts. And they happily comply. They give your baby cute bibs, and funny socks, and board books, and you feel all wonderful and smug and in-control.
Until the 2nd Christmas, when baby is now a todder, suddenly, Grandma and everyone else, toss your rules out the window because they'd rather bribe cute little toddler smiles and hugs and kisses with mounds of Giant Plastic and Stuffed Objects.
Of course the bribes work, so for 2nd Birthday they come bearing more of the same, until suddenly, Sunday night, you realize it's 2 a.m., you're watching an infomercial, and you still haven't finished organizing and rotating the toys.
Fast forward five years, and multiple rounds of toy purging, the dreaded chore of going through the toys and making separate piles like they advise on Hoarders. My piles are like this:
Keep:
A few special dolls and stuffed animals. Quality toys and games that will stand the test of time. Fun toys that the child plays with on a regular basis.
Donate or Sell:
Nice toys from the 0-18 month age range that are gathering dust. Toys that require excessive assembly and/or set up space, and therefore are rarely used, despite how cool they may be. Stuffed animals of forgotten origin.
Discard:
Fast food toys. Toys with missing pieces. Dollar store toys. Broken toys. The Barbie doll with one leg. Battery operated toys that no longer work, despite numerous attempts to replace batteries.
However, the children have very different ideas as to how these piles should be organized:
Keep:
All items that mom agrees should be kept, PLUS: EVERY SINGLE STUFFED ANIMAL, (hugging it tightly) "because I love it sooooo much." (kisses stuffed animal). Every toy that makes an annoying noise. Every toy that comes with more than 10 pieces. Every battery operated toy, because "you can FIX it, it just needs new batteries! PLEASE!" Any fast food toy which is not broken. The LEG from the broken Barbie doll, which has been named "Leggy" and is a recurring comic-relief character in all imaginary play scenarios. The ads for additional products that were included in the box with another toy, and are now serving as treasure maps.
Donate or Sell:
The porcelain doll/piggybank/figurine that grandma gave you when you were born which is inscribed with your full name and birthdate, birth weight and height.
Discard:
The Barbie with one leg. The broken fast food toys. The expensive rocket and space station because one astronaut has lost his helmet. Broken crayon pieces smaller than one centimeter only. Random scraps of paper. Dirty Kleenex.
Needless to say, negotiations get complex and stressful and lead to temper tantrums and tears, and I really don't like my kids to see me that way, so . . . the Toy Strike has been reinstated.
Back when I had one one-year old baby, I read that you shouldn't overload your child with too many toys. Choose a small selection and rotate the toys weekly. Toy rotation became my Sunday night chore. I'd watch Law and Order Criminal Intent, and I'd assemble the toys, neatly organized in their clear plastic storage boxes, and bring out the next set. I'd even do cool things like arrange various stuffed animals and small toys in fun little action scenes ready for the child to enjoy.
That was before what I now call the 2nd Christmas Toy Explosion. In case you are a new parent, let me explain. You think you have the toy situation under control. Your baby has a few favorite toys and LOVES them. Your child will be perfectly content with these few cherished items. There is no way, you think, no way, you will ever let your home turn into a Toy-opolis, like some of those other parents who obviously just can't manage to say no.
It's simple, you just inform the grandparents and other friends and relatives that you'd prefer they not give toys as gifts. And they happily comply. They give your baby cute bibs, and funny socks, and board books, and you feel all wonderful and smug and in-control.
Until the 2nd Christmas, when baby is now a todder, suddenly, Grandma and everyone else, toss your rules out the window because they'd rather bribe cute little toddler smiles and hugs and kisses with mounds of Giant Plastic and Stuffed Objects.
Of course the bribes work, so for 2nd Birthday they come bearing more of the same, until suddenly, Sunday night, you realize it's 2 a.m., you're watching an infomercial, and you still haven't finished organizing and rotating the toys.
Fast forward five years, and multiple rounds of toy purging, the dreaded chore of going through the toys and making separate piles like they advise on Hoarders. My piles are like this:
Keep:
A few special dolls and stuffed animals. Quality toys and games that will stand the test of time. Fun toys that the child plays with on a regular basis.
Donate or Sell:
Nice toys from the 0-18 month age range that are gathering dust. Toys that require excessive assembly and/or set up space, and therefore are rarely used, despite how cool they may be. Stuffed animals of forgotten origin.
Discard:
Fast food toys. Toys with missing pieces. Dollar store toys. Broken toys. The Barbie doll with one leg. Battery operated toys that no longer work, despite numerous attempts to replace batteries.
However, the children have very different ideas as to how these piles should be organized:
Keep:
All items that mom agrees should be kept, PLUS: EVERY SINGLE STUFFED ANIMAL, (hugging it tightly) "because I love it sooooo much." (kisses stuffed animal). Every toy that makes an annoying noise. Every toy that comes with more than 10 pieces. Every battery operated toy, because "you can FIX it, it just needs new batteries! PLEASE!" Any fast food toy which is not broken. The LEG from the broken Barbie doll, which has been named "Leggy" and is a recurring comic-relief character in all imaginary play scenarios. The ads for additional products that were included in the box with another toy, and are now serving as treasure maps.
Donate or Sell:
The porcelain doll/piggybank/figurine that grandma gave you when you were born which is inscribed with your full name and birthdate, birth weight and height.
Discard:
The Barbie with one leg. The broken fast food toys. The expensive rocket and space station because one astronaut has lost his helmet. Broken crayon pieces smaller than one centimeter only. Random scraps of paper. Dirty Kleenex.
Needless to say, negotiations get complex and stressful and lead to temper tantrums and tears, and I really don't like my kids to see me that way, so . . . the Toy Strike has been reinstated.
Friday, November 30, 2012
The End
This has not been a good year for blogging. What's that? You missed me? You didn't notice? You only ended up here because you searched "child eats glue stick" or "Tell Me All Your Thoughts On God Song Meaning?" (Note how I cleverly promote the two most popular search entries leading to my blog. Not sure what I expect to accomplish with this cleverness, since this blog is not about glue sticks or late 90's music.)
But never fear friends, I'm still wasting time. I've spent the last 5 months revising my book, and after countless hours and documents, and even an editing class, I've come to the conclusion that I've come to the conclusion. I'm not exactly sure how a writer is supposed to know when their book is done. But for me, it's done when it's as good as I can make it. And so, for now, I'm done.
That's not to say my book is perfect and there's no room to improve. I'm just saying that at this point in time, I've taken it as far as whatever talent I posess permits. I'm entering the Pitch Wars contest in hopes of getting a mentor, because my own brain has been wrung dry on this book. I need a shot of genius from an outside source. And I need to stop reading my book backward and forward, before I have to pull a Taylor Swift and tell it we are never, ever, ever getting back together again.
So before I burn the bridges with Creepy Boy, I'm wishing it well, I'm sending it out into the world of Queries and Contests and other far distant places. Ours will be a long-distance relationship, and an open relationship too. Creepy Boy, feel free to let other minds twirl around your plot, POV and chapter order. And please don't be hurt if I start writing someone else. I know it's sudden. But he caught my eye the other day. . .no one you know. . .his name's Harm. He's in a rock band. His mom's a psycho. Runs in the family.
Don't worry, Creepy, we'll still keep in touch. I promised you another tweak of your final chapters. I'll come through for you on that the first weekend we get together. It'll be bittersweet and we'll both come away agreeing it's for the best.
But never fear friends, I'm still wasting time. I've spent the last 5 months revising my book, and after countless hours and documents, and even an editing class, I've come to the conclusion that I've come to the conclusion. I'm not exactly sure how a writer is supposed to know when their book is done. But for me, it's done when it's as good as I can make it. And so, for now, I'm done.
That's not to say my book is perfect and there's no room to improve. I'm just saying that at this point in time, I've taken it as far as whatever talent I posess permits. I'm entering the Pitch Wars contest in hopes of getting a mentor, because my own brain has been wrung dry on this book. I need a shot of genius from an outside source. And I need to stop reading my book backward and forward, before I have to pull a Taylor Swift and tell it we are never, ever, ever getting back together again.
So before I burn the bridges with Creepy Boy, I'm wishing it well, I'm sending it out into the world of Queries and Contests and other far distant places. Ours will be a long-distance relationship, and an open relationship too. Creepy Boy, feel free to let other minds twirl around your plot, POV and chapter order. And please don't be hurt if I start writing someone else. I know it's sudden. But he caught my eye the other day. . .no one you know. . .his name's Harm. He's in a rock band. His mom's a psycho. Runs in the family.
Don't worry, Creepy, we'll still keep in touch. I promised you another tweak of your final chapters. I'll come through for you on that the first weekend we get together. It'll be bittersweet and we'll both come away agreeing it's for the best.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Not Bored Yet.
Things to do:
1. Assemble all outgrown kids clothes and toys for a Mom to Mom sale. Note to self--presence of spiders is a good indicator of an outgrown toy.
2. Take 10 Pilates classes with the Skinny Housewives of West Bloomfield, in a two week period. Note to self--pay attention to when those Groupons expire.
3. Attend tax classes, and prep for the RTRP exam in November
4. Run a 2.9 relay leg in the Detroit Marathon.
5. Hair appointment.
6. Facial (See note # 2)
7. Finish 2nd draft of book.
8. Write more.
9. Closets, closets, closets.
10. Pictures, pictures, pictures.
11. Send overdue gifts.
And that's not including all the daily Things to Do, and the afterschool activity carousel, and fall TV schedule and 2nd grade math homework.
For the record, so far, the most challenging thing about 2nd grade math is refraining from humming the Jeopardy theme song while my daughter stares into space for 5 minutes.
Did you notice, Blogging is not on the list? Awwww.
1. Assemble all outgrown kids clothes and toys for a Mom to Mom sale. Note to self--presence of spiders is a good indicator of an outgrown toy.
2. Take 10 Pilates classes with the Skinny Housewives of West Bloomfield, in a two week period. Note to self--pay attention to when those Groupons expire.
3. Attend tax classes, and prep for the RTRP exam in November
4. Run a 2.9 relay leg in the Detroit Marathon.
5. Hair appointment.
6. Facial (See note # 2)
7. Finish 2nd draft of book.
8. Write more.
9. Closets, closets, closets.
10. Pictures, pictures, pictures.
11. Send overdue gifts.
And that's not including all the daily Things to Do, and the afterschool activity carousel, and fall TV schedule and 2nd grade math homework.
For the record, so far, the most challenging thing about 2nd grade math is refraining from humming the Jeopardy theme song while my daughter stares into space for 5 minutes.
Did you notice, Blogging is not on the list? Awwww.
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