Signs of My Impending Breakdown

I'm about to go off the grid for a week.

Well, not really. There will be electricity and water and such. Thank God.

I will sleep in a real bed, watch satellite TV and drive to Wal-Mart if I need something. But I will have no internet access.

No internet, people.

And my phone?

Motorola Backflip. AKA big disappointment.

 My phone doesn't even work half the time I'm in the "superior" coverage area, so it's not going to work when I'm in the merely "satisfactory". So the phone isn't going to be much help.
I feel like I've been slacking on the internet anyway, what with trip prep and actually cleaning my house* and my awesome date night. But there's a difference between slacking and. . . .

NO INTERNET.

I love my in-laws, but I might love them a tiny bit more if they had the internet at their house. Rather, I might love visiting them more, you know? It will be great to see a few friends and visit my favorite restaurant west of the Mississippi . It will be fun to watch my kids with their other grandparents and great-grandmother. It will be relaxing to not feel compelled to post/write articles/read blogs when I'd much rather be playing on Twitter or Facebook. Except, of course, I will not be able to play on Twitter or Facebook.** Instead I will be imagining or scribbling scenes like this:

A chubby brunette woman who could totally pass for 30 35 steps up to the podium and says, "My name is TripleZmom and I'm addicted to the internet." The crowd cheerfully responds. She takes a deep breath, perhaps finally ready to tell her story, "I. . .I. . .dammit, I don't have any notes. You know why? Because I didn't have a keyboard and my handwriting has become atrocious. I need a fucking keyboard! How am I supposed to tell my story if you won't let me have a keyboard?" 


Her sponsor steps forward, reminding her that she needs to avoid temptation and that she can speak from the heart. The sponsor, it must be noted, has the leathery tan of someone who spends a lot of time outside and the sinewy grace of someone who does a lot of yoga. TripleZmom stares at her, envisioning a future where she too can do yoga and have a natural tan. Then she remembers that the sponsor also spends a lot of time cleaning her house. 


"You know what? Almost everyone I love is on the internet. My writing is on the internet. I've gotten paid for being on the internet.  I even keep track of my exercise on the internet. This addiction isn't hurting me or my family. And frankly, I don't give a damn how much it hurts my housework. I'd rather be traumatized by a week away from it than never have it at all. So who wants to go to the Apple store with me?" The brunette strides out of the hall, followed by nearly everyone in the cheering crowd. Eventually even the sponsor slips furtively out the door. 


I think my internet withdrawal is already starting. Have a fabulous week!***


*Okay, the WHOLE house isn't clean. But a lot of it is - I mean, I scrubbed floors and everything. How do people do that every week? Ugh.

**Please, please, please like my page on FB while I'm gone and/or follow me on Twitter and/or join with Google Friend Connect (in the sidebar) and/or sign up for my feed (top sidebar) and/or ease my week-without-internet pain in some way. I will do it for you when I come back, if I haven't already.

***If you are thinking about robbing my house, please keep in mind that all of our electronics are at least 5 years old, we have an alarm system, nosy neighbors, booby traps and all my good jewelry is coming with me.

Disjointed Ramblings of A City Girl

"Vacationing" with toddlers is an oxymoron. We have been gone for over a week now and today is the first day I really feel like I'm on vacation. That's because Ironflower and Lovebug are at the farm torturing their grandparents and I have driven to KC to use the internet and shop. Well, seeing as the trip is way more expensive than expected (aren't they always), the highlight will be internet usage.

My in-laws live in the country and have no internet access. They also don't have much luck with cell phones, despite the new tower. My kids adore their grandparents and the feeling is more than mutual, but I'm a wreck. I'm having a very hard time living without the internet. Theoretically, I could write and then post when I got the chance but I haven't written anything worthwhile. Maybe it's the fear of the kids breaking one of grandma's pretties (this is not unfounded) and maybe it's the fact that I just finished A Thousand Splendid Suns (so good).

Hot Guy is so refreshed being in the country and the kids are quite happy. I love my in-laws, but I am not a country person. I can appreciate being able to see the stars so clearly, but that pales in comparison to being able to use the internet. Or to walk to the store. You would think that as much as other people get on my nerves that I would relish being so far away from them. But all it does is make me think of all the horror movies I watched in junior high in the '80's.

I'm probably going to hell for this blog. I feel so guilty about being so cranky there. I'm sure that's why Hot Guy sent me up here today. I've tried to hide it, but he knows me a little too well.
I hope today helps.

Things I've meant to blog about lately but haven't gotten a chance:

Lovebug said his first sentence (at 17 months, I think this is pretty good for a boy). He pointed to himself in the mirror and said, "I'm in there" (well, actually it sounded more like "Um indere").

Ironflower now says "Leave me alone!" whenever she's pooping, regardless of whether anyone is talking to her or not. I hope this bodes well for potty training.

We stayed in the trashiest motel on our way here. It seemed okay until we started observing the other guests. That's what we get for trying to save money. I tried to look at it as a sociological observation, but when a couple started having sex in the pool as soon as we got out (as her elementary school aged daughter pouted on a lounge chair), I started to lose it. The kids have never gotten such a thorough bath. And I wouldn't let them wear their bathing suits again until we washed the suits at grandma's. Ick.