As I knew would happen, joining Facebook and starting the Apron Stringz page over at Homegrown has sparked a real computer bender. When I hit the start buttons for those groups, a little voice in my head screamed. But I did it anyway. I wanted to. I craved to.
Telling y’all about my struggles with the glowing box addiction is just silly. It’s like starting an AA meeting with a glass of champagne. “Here’s to a mostly dry week, friends!” But I do it anyway, because here is where I talk out all that kind of shit, and I know many of you struggle with the same balancing act.
The problem is, the more I use this cursed blessed WWW, the more I glue my eyes to the box, the less I want to do anything else. Particularly take care of two fussy little scraps. I start out by brushing them off like flies. Once the bender gets serious, I start heavy into the Mama Rage.
I get outrageously mad. I never had anger issues before I had kids, but here I am– the three headed hydra of rage again. And of course, being that mad at my sweet heart-of-hearts for simply needing my attention makes me downright depressed. Predictably, being depressed makes me stop cleaning the house, stop doing anything productive. Living in a disaster zone and feeling totally unproductive makes me more depressed. Being more depressed makes me want to veg out on the computer.
Ad infinitum.
Day before yesterday was a stupid, crap day. I got a sore throat from screaming “fuck” too long and hard. That’s no joke, and not the first time that’s happened to me either. I started a stupid crap post at the end of that day, but fortunately for all involved, I deleted it.
So, yesterday morning after a wicked seeming extension of the day before, I decided it was high time to pull myself together. No writing. Anywhere. All day.
I cleaned the house. I cooked, not just in survival mode, but some needed projects. I biked my kids to the zoo. I turned some dirt in the front garden bed. I cleaned more.
By the time I was setting the table for a nutritious yet savory dinner, including one thing I had grown myself, and one thing from the farmer’s market, I was feeling pretty good. ‘Look what I can do when I just knock that computer shit off!’ I said to myself proudly.
Then I realized. Other than about 40 minutes at nap time, when I cleaned instead of jumping onto the continually fascinating Homegrown discussion, where exactly had all that getting-shit-done time come from? Not from my self-restraint. No.
That time had come from the kids. They had just plain had a good day. The Babe had been happy. They had played sweetly. I had been able to stay home in the afternoon and get in some good work time, rather than having to escape the house in desperation with two fussy, fighting wildebeasts strapped into the stroller.
Oh, motherhood. The ups. The downs. My brain lags behind the actuality of change. Subconsciously I was still thinking we were in those Glory Days I wrote about in early February. And wondering why I wasn’t getting anything done.
How have I still not installed the fact of small children into my expectations? How can I still expect to be in control all the time? How can I still be getting down on myself when I fail to keep up with all the work which, haven’t I said myself, is not meant to be done by one person alone? Haven’t I read this damn blog?
Not to say that my computer addiction is a-okay. Of course if falling behind is what makes me feel crazy, then any time that I take away from catching-up is a problem. And what about the very real probability that my kiddos ‘good day’ was sparked by my own decision to just be mama for the day?
But it’s the confusion of the modern world, because doesn’t this writing feel good too? Doesn’t this help beat back the crazies?
Absolutely. That’s why I yanked myself up out of bed at 5:30 this morning so I could write this all out. Thanks for listening.
And now I’m going to go see if I can’t walk the line again. Another day, another load of laundry.
calamity jane 
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