Technology Good....sometimes

This afternoon, while my little boy was napping, I was on this blasted computer attempting to look up a nun's performance on Italy's version of The Voice.

That sounds rather harmless, and so it is, I suppose, but after watching a couple videos and reading a couple articles, I was feeling sucked into the world of perpetual noise.

I might not have felt noise-sick if every site I clicked on did not have a million other extremely frivolous stories lined up on their sidebar to entice you into the rabbit hole. The nun's story I like, but the pictures trying to convince me to read about celebrities' latest meltdowns, most recent significant others or clothing choices, I could easily do without.

Oh, the noise, noise, noise, noise! I am a regular technology Grinch. You could find me someday, a disconnected hobo, sitting in a city park with a sign that reads, "Technology overload bad - revive Mother Nature". I wish my home page on the Internet could be a sweet, simple blank screen with a blinking search bar.

But my homepage is like any other. It is jam-packed with pictures of famous, often foolish, people, has bite-sized articles on how to look better, feel better, manage finances, improve your outlook, tell if your spouse is happy, buy shoes online, and polls asking you how you feel about the latest stupid thing someone has said or done. The real news (does that exist anymore?) is rare, and it is nearly always depressing. But I would take the "real news" about real-life human issues over the fluff designed to distract us any day.

This weekend I read a USA Today newspaper article about Millennial moms, in which group I am technically included, and it detailed how these moms are changing the face of motherhood through technology. They are using Pinterest to look up scientific experiments, fun party recipes, cool craft ideas. They use apps on their smartphones to manage their  baby's sleep schedule, breastfeeding schedule (huh?) and track doctor's appointments. Bloggers, they share their experiences, their joys and advice with other moms in the online community. They are plugged in, radiating all that fabulous information out for the edification of children and the art of motherhood. And they post numerous pictures on social media sites for distant family to enjoy.

I began to feel guilty as I read that old-fashioned newspaper. I rail against technology, how it is making us dumber socially, emotionally, and yes, I feel, intellectually. I rail against all the parents I see with their heads down over a phone, completely ignoring what their kids are doing - often because they've given their kids an I Pad to entertain them. Yet, how many times have I used this amazing available "social" technology to find a great meal for my family? Not often. How many pictures of my absolutely gorgeous children do I share on Facebook? Not many. How many fantastic crafts have I pulled from Pinterest to do with my children? None. I admit, I just don't have an affinity for it, and I am baffled by those who find their joy in it, but perhaps the main problem is that I simply do not know how to make the most of this brave new world in media.

So, yes, indeed - I am a mom who can be found with her nose in a week-old newspaper instead of her phone, but if I am still shrugging off my pestering children, so I can "just finish this article", the difference is the same. Yes, I still rely on a shelf of real-life cookbooks, but if I'm just making the same thing over and over, perhaps I should skip the nonsense on my home page to look for an online recipe to bring a bit more excitement to mealtimes. As for games and crafts, you are quite likely to find me playing classics such as Red Light/Green Light, and once upon a time before this house began to drive me bonkers with its mess, I could be found fairly often cutting and gluing construction paper projects with my kids. But I wonder....what are these new-fangled crafts people are raving about on their Facebook pages, glow-in-the-dark treasure hunts or fun birthday surprises, accompanied by gloating pictures? Maybe, yes maybe, I should try one of those.

Still...woman, know thyself.  I know that the more time I spend on the Internet, the more out of sorts I become - even if I am simply reading articles or posts by writers I admire. I'm not certain why this is, but I assuredly know that I cannot just meander around aimlessly, even if it is a simple mental stroll through friends' Facebook posts. I know my life could not be run by apps.

I am happiest when I only log in just a few times a week into my email. I don't go on Facebook unless I want to post or need to communicate with someone, but once there, it is a fight to return to reality, I confess. And perhaps the best decision for me personally was never to come on this blog merely to check stats. It is very discouraging and will squash any inspiration that is freshly percolating, and it is, regardless, a complete waste of my time. Yet, it always feels good to write, to have written here, and that doesn't induce Internet-sickness at all.

Where is my point, you ask? Well, I admire these courageous women who understand how to use the technology given them to be better moms. I admire them because it appears they do not waste time hardly at all or use it as an excuse to avoid their overactive kids but instead garner wonderful ideas for their little ones' development and happiness. Now that is surely not evil. Technology is not all bad.

Do not expect me to start posting pics of our latest family craft on Facebook (or any pics on Facebook - lost our camera again), however, but I do think I may be inspired to look up more recipes and crafts and try more of the good, clean ideas people put out there to share with the whole human community. After all, if Pope Francis can make good use of the Internet, my friends, so can I.



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Potty Times, Nap Times...Good Times

Every day, at least six times a day, I hear my preschooler bellow through the house in a most obnoxious way.

"I'M DOOOONE!" she hollers.

She's in the bathroom, and it is never a convenient moment. "Of course you are," I mumble under my breath before yelling back, "I'LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE! I'm in the middle of something here!"

And it's true. I am always in the middle of changing a diaper, fixing a meal, switching laundry, loading dishes, or feeding a baby. Eventually, I must suspend my work, however, and trudge down the hall to take care of her Royal Princess of the Porcelain Palace.

And my littlest, Danny Sammy, won't sleep like he should right now. According to pediatric sleep experts, he is supposed to need 14 hours of sleep, more than half of the 24 hours in a day. Hah! I am convinced this is a fib invented by pediatricians to keep us desperate for their advice. It is a fib just slightly better than the one circulated by doctors about potty training: the one in which they tell you to simply put your toddler or preschooler in a T-shirt and cotton underpants and let them rove your home diaper-free while giving them only water to drink. Your child will have a few accidents (just a few) before figuring out that they really don't like being wet, and the kid will use the potty henceforth (at which point rainbows should magically appear in your home while Beethoven's Fifth Symphony plays).

Let me tell you what really happens, because I've tried this "shotgun" method on three different children, and baby, it backfires. You put your kid in the shirt and special underpants, you give them water even though they're whining for juice, and then you watch and wait for them to cry about being wet. After about an hour, you start splashing through the puddles. That's right. Because they could care less that they're pee-peeing all over the house like miscreant little puppies. I tried this method for two days straight with my oldest, and I cleaned up roughly enough pee-pee to start a koi pond in the backyard.

And the sleep myth is just the same. Has to be, because if babies really needed that much sleep...I mean if they really did...wouldn't they be wanting...in fact, begging to go down for nap/bedtime? Getting you up four to six times a night, wouldn't they just nurse or take the bottle, touch your face and hair and then go peacefully back in their cribs as if to say, Just checking to make sure you're still here Mama. But this is not the way it is for me and my Danny Sammy. He wakes up, has his nurse, pops off in irritation and begins to behave like the Incredible Hulk - arcing his back, thrashing his arms around and growling deep in his throat as if he were going to suddenly burst out of his footie sleeper and start sporting green skin before jumping through the window to go rip a neighbor's car apart. He behaves like this for well over an hour every night while I attempt to bounce, rock, nurse or lie down with him.

And nap times. Huh. Well, I could get him down for a decent nap, I suppose, if I could suspend all sudden noise in our home and had a soundproof plexiglass box in which to put my preschooler with rations of juice and crackers and enough finger paint and play dough to keep her amused for two hours. But these things are impossible...unless you know where I can find a child-friendly plexiglass box? (No? Well, I was just kidding!) And no matter what I do for Ella Belle - turn on the television, give her cookies and muffins, provide her with pounds of play dough or modeling clay, she will without a doubt end up in the hall outside Danny Sam's room with boredom on her mind and a smirk on her face as she slowly increases the amount of noise she's making. I stare pointedly at her and push my finger hard against my mouth, trying my darndest to channel enough miming energy to drive her from the vicinity of the designated baby nap area, but I'm helpless to stop the inevitable. If I yell at her to go away or be quiet, I'll be disturbing Danny Sam myself and only feel more angst-ridden when he aborts his nurse and twists his head with wide-open eyes to examine the activities of big sister.

I know I'm supposed to thank God for the precious time I get to spend with my little ones, and I do! I do! I do! I do! I doooo! Even when I'm trying to push my fingers through my eyelids in frustration. But sometimes a stay-at-home Mom lives on the edge - the edge of sanity, that is. For instance, when, after many minutes of orchestrating ridiculous maneuvers and making plenty of goofy noises and faces, you find yourself pointing at your baby and cackling because you managed to trick him into taking a bite of baby food, well...you know the pressure has gotten to you, my friend.

But, thank God, it's worth it. It's worth it when your baby crawls up to you as you're sitting on the ground and lays his head on your lap and smiles. It's worth it when, after months of jealousy and insecurity in relation to baby Danny, Ella makes her little brother giggle in the car on the way home and then says confidently, "Mama, Daniel's my friend."