Times change and you have to change with them. I'm a grown up. I know this. So when a problem emerges with data and new plans and all that, I find a simple plan. I give Zoe my phone (heads up - don't call it unless you want to talk to Zoe).
She says thank you, she gets sooo excited and then -- after adding apps and synching things -- she announces she needs a new phone case for this ohone
A new case? We are saving money here!
She gives me big sad eyes.
How could she face the world with this ugly white and pink case (the same one of mine she fawned over before, mind you)?
I shake my head.
No new case. And you have to give me your iPad.
I think to ask for her teal chevron dress AND the jeans with the sparkly butt but I hold back.
I need the iPad! It has all my pictures!
I don't push it, but suddenly I want her iPad, the one she jacked from her dad.
It's my turn to jack something, whether I need it or not. Or maybe not. Anyway.
She frowns but doesn't disagree. Somehow I think I might come out ahead here.
Fast forward to the next day.
She is hunting high and low for the pink sharpie.
Of course it isn't anywhere she looks.
I took it.
Writing in pink sharpie is fun, I makes me feel whimsical. So there. I took the sharpie, and I'd do it again.
Without admitting guilt (what is guilt? I bought the pen! I'm the mom! I need beautiful things!) I slip to my purse, pull out the sharpie and hand it to her.
Thank you she says and walks away too happily.
I love it when she's super occupied (her brother is more often like me - leave him alone and when you find him he will have built a sniper nest, boobie traps and made a you tube on it; leave her alone she gets lonely).
Suddenly there is space and time to put this away, move this, get that done. More time passes.
Ta-da! She announces. Like it?
She's holding a phone cover with a pink and teal chevron design.
It is meticulous, beautiful, craft, cheap and -- beyond all that -- resourceful.
I love it.
So I scowl angrily.
What's wrong? Isn't it gorgeous?
I hate it.
Her brother stops chasing the invisible (doomed) enemy behind and around the kitchen island and looks up, shocked by my criticism.
This might be a first.
You hate it? She looks at it again and it's still perfect. Delightful, cute, perfect.
I hate it. I had that cover for a YEAR and I never thought to write something cute on it like a heart or um....
Both kids look at me.
What would I write on my phone? The pressure is too much.
I could've written "Cuba" in really cool lettering.
She shakes her head.
He blurts out, Cuba? yeah Mom, write Cuba on your phone. See where THAT will get you.
The both laugh.
Then he dismisses me and goes back to chasing his doomed enemy with a gun held together by rubberbands and duct tape.
I too and go on with my Sunday, Cuba-free and iPad free, for now.
She says thank you, she gets sooo excited and then -- after adding apps and synching things -- she announces she needs a new phone case for this ohone
A new case? We are saving money here!
She gives me big sad eyes.
How could she face the world with this ugly white and pink case (the same one of mine she fawned over before, mind you)?
I shake my head.
No new case. And you have to give me your iPad.
I think to ask for her teal chevron dress AND the jeans with the sparkly butt but I hold back.
I need the iPad! It has all my pictures!
I don't push it, but suddenly I want her iPad, the one she jacked from her dad.
It's my turn to jack something, whether I need it or not. Or maybe not. Anyway.
She frowns but doesn't disagree. Somehow I think I might come out ahead here.
Fast forward to the next day.
She is hunting high and low for the pink sharpie.
Of course it isn't anywhere she looks.
I took it.
Writing in pink sharpie is fun, I makes me feel whimsical. So there. I took the sharpie, and I'd do it again.
Without admitting guilt (what is guilt? I bought the pen! I'm the mom! I need beautiful things!) I slip to my purse, pull out the sharpie and hand it to her.
Thank you she says and walks away too happily.
I love it when she's super occupied (her brother is more often like me - leave him alone and when you find him he will have built a sniper nest, boobie traps and made a you tube on it; leave her alone she gets lonely).
Suddenly there is space and time to put this away, move this, get that done. More time passes.
Ta-da! She announces. Like it?
She's holding a phone cover with a pink and teal chevron design.
It is meticulous, beautiful, craft, cheap and -- beyond all that -- resourceful.
I love it.
So I scowl angrily.
What's wrong? Isn't it gorgeous?
I hate it.
Her brother stops chasing the invisible (doomed) enemy behind and around the kitchen island and looks up, shocked by my criticism.
This might be a first.
You hate it? She looks at it again and it's still perfect. Delightful, cute, perfect.
I hate it. I had that cover for a YEAR and I never thought to write something cute on it like a heart or um....
Both kids look at me.
What would I write on my phone? The pressure is too much.
I could've written "Cuba" in really cool lettering.
She shakes her head.
He blurts out, Cuba? yeah Mom, write Cuba on your phone. See where THAT will get you.
The both laugh.
Then he dismisses me and goes back to chasing his doomed enemy with a gun held together by rubberbands and duct tape.
I too and go on with my Sunday, Cuba-free and iPad free, for now.
