Thursday, October 3, 2013

Staying Connected

I was at the bus stop waiting for my kids to come home from school.  The sun was shining, it wasn't too hot or too cold.   All the moms were chatting, taking advantage of the last few minutes of uninterrupted opportunities to connect with other adults.

And then it happened.  Like a scene in a movie, everything was in slow motion.  My iPhone slipped out of my hand and slowly started falling toward the sidewalk.  "Nooooooo," I said in a very deep and scary, muffled, slow motion voice.

It hit the cement with a thud and a crunch.  I slowly kneeled down to pick up the phone and turned it over to reveal the shattered screen of my life iPhone.

There were gasps from all the moms who stood in a semicircle facing me.  Some of them had to turn away from the horror. After a minute or two, one of the moms put her hand on my shoulder and said "I am so sorry."

I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and ask God why?  But the bus pulled up and I had to do what we moms do best, push our disappointment deep inside and pretend everything is alright.  And I did until we got home from the bus stop.  Because let's get real, some moms may be good at that, but not me.  I sat down and I cried a little.

I cried because it was one more thing on top of a lot of little things to worry about.  I cried because it's always about money.  I cried because I have a teenager-like addiction to my phone.  

I'll admit to sending this message to my friend.  And yeah, I sound like a teenager.  Whomp, whomp my tattoo dreams are on hold until I can work into my budget.  

I cried because my phone makes me feel less alone, more connected.

Motherhood can make a person feel isolated and a little lonely.  Sure there are opportunities to connect--five minutes at the bus stop, volunteering and play groups.  Unfortunately, I've never been a playgroup kind of mom.  I tend to not be able to talk or interact that much with adults when I am with my kids.  Sometimes it's because I'm having fun actually hanging out with my children and other times it's because I'm too busy making sure my lovely children don't hurt each other or someone else's child or break anything.

So, the phone, it's a big deal.  Some of my dearest friendships have developed on my phone.  I've gotten to know some of my friends better after interacting with them on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.  My phone connects me to my friends and the world outside my house.  Not to mention I can connect this blog and work on my stellar career in social media.

Sure the phone was still working, but for how long?  How long would I be connected?  And what would happen to me if I wasn't connected anymore?  Would I disappear when my phone did? 

This is where the story should take a turn.  This is where I, the crazy iPhone addict making a case for why my disease isn't something sick and twisted, but rather sweet and necessary, have a change of heart.  This is the part where I learn a lesson and discover being unplugged, disconnected from phones and iPads and gadgets is where it's at. This is where I take a walk, breathe in the fresh fall air, look people in the eye and say hello and connect to the real, beautiful world that's been here all along.

But I'm not writing that story.  My story ends like this:
The morning after my phone cracked, I rode my bike through my sweet little town to the iPod/iPhone/iPad fix-it shop.  

I did smile at people and notice the blue sky and leaves turning red, brown and orange.  I got my phone fixed and then I went and I took pictures of the pretty leaves and put them on Instagram, tweeted my gratitude, liked a few Facebook statuses and felt totally, completely connected.

***I want to make sure everyone that reads this knows that I know that a phone cracking isn't a real tragedy.  I want you to know that I know it's just a phone, I really do know that.***

Since I'm totally connected again, come connect with me on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram.  Yeah, I just did that.

Come on, I don't want to be this guy. I mean I had to get my phone fixed.


  1. Thanks for writing this. "It's all about the money...." I can relate.

  2. As always, I could have written this. Thankfully, my phone hasn't broken yet. *knock on wood*

  3. As always, I could have written this. Thankfully, my phone hasn't broken yet. *knock on wood*

  4. I would have cried, too. And I am sorry the tattoo fund is on hold for a little while. (And I hate when "things" become more than "things" because of budget issues... I have a laptop with a bum battery connector that's just hanging out at my house while I work on Ryan's (super old) desktop and his work laptop and just wonder when that silly money tree outside is going to start producing...

  5. I would feel the same way if my phone broke. And I love that you rode your bike to get your phone fixed. There is something so small town about that.