I spend far too much time on the computer. I sell on e-bay obsessively and check e-mail constantly. I browse mom chat boards. I can’t even remember the last time I read a paper newspaper. I google everything. I do all of my shopping on-line, and even get my groceries from peapod.com. It’s easy, convenient and I can do it in my pjs at 3 am. The internet was made for stay at home insomniacs like me.
I’ve developed some issues, though, thanks to spending so much time in front of my beloved Mac. I frequently find myself thinking in computer lingo. I often see the letters BAER* in my head when my husband speaks. I think of the kids as DD, DS1 and DS2*. They can be PITAs*, but I adore them. When I make a stupid mistake, swear in front of Lily, or miss a highway exit, my first thought is to hit “open apple z” and just undo it.
And then there’s this blog. I spend my days observing little moments to write about. It’s taken the place of baby books for my kids and it allows me to see the humor in situations that would have otherwise irritated me. And I really love that when I receive unsolicited advice here, or a post is taking a lame turn into family banter, I can simply send that comment straight to the garbage. It is quite liberating to be able to trash criticism with a simple click of a button. How nice it would be to do that IRL*.
I don’t want to hear that you think I spend too much time on the computer. I like it and I’m just fine and dandy. Tell me I’m witty and charming, and that my children are GFG*. Share your experiences. Tell me the weather where you are, or what you ate for breakfast. But don’t be telling me that I’m a shitty mother on my blog. Don’t tell me how to treat my children or that I don’t deserve them. If I want your nasty advice, I’ll ask for it, TYVM. And should you not listen, you can always be trashed with a quick click on my keyboard. Or, even worse, I can blog about you.
* Big ass eye roll, Dear daughter and dear sons, Pain in the ass, In real life, Gifts from god, Thank you very much, Til next time.