A Case for Smartphones

How pimp is it that I can write an actual blog on my smartphone? You know?

I get the sense that everyone walks around with these exquisite pieces of technology in our hands, feeling quite guilty. Sure, the phone is incredible and we can’t wait to upgrade, but we have to do some atoning, to let everyone know we aren’t that into it. It is like the kind of guilt people have admitting they like the Bachelor.

“Did she really just compare smart phones to the Bachelor?” New season starts soon, not that I care what Chris and The Gals are doing.

Now, don’t get me wrong. There are times to put the phone down and I am sure to do that, it is just that I was walking down a truly beautiful, unfinished road the other day. Let me set the scene:  There was a (it has to be) haunted, ancient, dilapidated cabin in the distance–no shit! It is spooky like that in my hood. A hawk was drawing lazy circles in the sky (lol where my OK peeps at). The smell of firewood clung heavy in the winter air. It was a snapshot of natural splendor that I do not take for granted. But as I walked, alone in the silence, at one with nature, what was I doing?

I was scrolling on my smartphone, looking at dank memes. And I wasn’t sorry.

If you see a parent at the park, and they check their phone here or there, please be gentle on these folks. I am not talking about advocating for neglect, but I think you get what I mean. I do love to watch my kids swing and explore, but you’re just seeing me at the park because we all needed to GTFO. And for 23 hours, I am SO tuned into what my kids are doing and feeling and saying that I need them to get lost, for their own health, in the playground equipment.

Does that make sense? So while they are up in the novelty of a new friend or a race through the grass, I am going be scrolling through Instagram periodically, letting off the tiniest bit of steam.

I actually wanted to write the blog I had been looking for: a blog that didn’t tell me to “Savor the Moments.”

“Did she really just say not to savor her time with her children?”

Yes, I did! And you wanna know why? Because that phrase, alone, has brought me such peril. It runs on a loop, continuously, echoing in the corners of every thought and word I utter. Every mistake. I am so concerned with savoring every minute, that I end up neurotically unhappy at times, convinced I am a really bad mom.

This is extreme, I know it is extreme. Perhaps you’re capable of feeling really uplifted by the heart-wrenchingly sad blogs and poems about tiny feet, and dishes don’t keep, but they end up wrecking me so badly emotionally.

There is nothing in this world I want more than to savor my time with my kids, but I also have to shut off my brain for a few minutes and tag my homies in memes.

I don’t really drink, I don’t have girls’ night out, and I barely bathe (I know). So if you see me walking in the wilderness alone, that is about as me-time as I get, and I will pack it with everything I haven’t been doing while I was savoring motherhood. Memes don’t keep.

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