Trick or Treat

Happy Halloween!

I'm probably the meanest Mom of all time, but I'm not taking Brody trick or treating. The idea of hauling him in and out of a car so I can carry him up to a house, ring the doorbell, and yell "Trick or treat," seems miserable when he wont understand what the heck we are doing. We can save that for next year.

We did still have the opportunity to dress him up and attend a Halloween party at a friend's home this weekend. We don't socialize very often and this was a great opportunity for us to catch up with old friends. And when I say "we" got to catch up with old friends, I mean JR got to catch up. I chased a monkey around, and I had a good time doing it.

Groceries

I sent the husband to the grocery store with a list of items I needed.

Yes, I know, this is already sounding like a train wreck.

My list started off with just a few simple things that I needed in order to finish off my corn chowder. Red/yellow/orange bell peppers, milk, and green onions.

Oh, and while I'm thinking about it....

I need yeast so I can make a fresh batch of bread, we're out of chocolate chips, the eggs are low, I could use a bag of carrots, and some thyme.

And that was just my rough draft.

Yes, I had a rough draft of my grocery list. (Hi, I'm Josie. I'm addicted to writing beautiful lists.)

The final copy looked something like this....

2% milk
Eggs
colby jack cheese
pepperjack cheese

yeast (the red jar. Red Star - Active Dry Yeast)
chocolate chips

red/yellow peppers (3)
onions
green onions
carrots
thyme

Now note, these items have been grouped to the section of the store they belong too. I even included specific details about what kind of yeast I needed. The plan was fool proof!

Then the phone calls started coming in. The first three were no big deal. Then J.R. got to the produce section.

"They don't have green onions."

"Did you check by the carrots and celery? They're usually refrigerated."

"I'm looking at all the onions right now. There are red onions, yellow onions, white onions... no green ones. Aren't they called something else?"

"Yes, a scallion."

"If they're a scallion then why are you calling them green onions? Doesn't matter, they don't have them..."

"Right, but did you check the fridges?... and scallion-schmallion. It's a cultural preference to say green onion."

(I muttered something under my breath about high class snobs and their fancy words for green onions.. pretty sure J.R. missed that completely in his frantic search of the produce section)

"They don't have green onions!"

"Screw the green onions! Forget them!"

I'm going to the store tomorrow. I'm pretty sure they'll have green onions.

He made it back from the store and managed to get everything on my list - with the exception of my green onions, of course. He did well, and I'm grateful that he picked the items up for me. In addition to my needed items, he bought a huge bag of cheese curds and an additional block of smokey cheddar cheese. And instead of just purchasing one bag of chocolate chips, he purchased six.

Cookies, anyone?

Life Lessons

Today, J.R. was up and out the door before the sun even bothered to make an appearance. He was taking his portable Lucas Sawmill to Southern Minnesota to work on job. I tried to call him once at 8 am when Brody and I rolled out of bed, but my WiFi calling on my cell phone wasn't cooperating and a very impatient little boy was demanding breakfast.

After breakfast Brody and I spent the morning playing peek-a-boo and coloring. Well, I was coloring... Brody was eating the crayons and making horrible faces.

Life lesson #92: Crayons taste like shit.

After a number of Crayons had their tips bitten off I simply told Brody that "it's OK, some lessons take a little longer to learn than others," and with that the box of Crayons returned to the safety of the desk drawer.

Before long it was time for lunch. Lunch blended into nap time, nap time to snack time, snack time to dinner, and poof! The day was over.

I no more than got Brody all snuggled into bed when my cell phone rang.

"Hey hun, how was your day sawing?" I asked the hubs.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry. I was thirty miles from cell phone service and I just didn't have any signal all day...."

He was frantically spitting out an apology when I stopped him....

"ummm, I didn't call you all day. I was fine. Brody was fine. We never called you. It didn't matter that you were out of cell phone service."

"Oh.................. you didn't?"

"Nope. Not once."

Life Lesson #121: It's always good to make your spouse feel important and loved.

And with that I reminded myself, "it's OK, some lessons take a little longer to learn than others."

Take My Survey!

I'm working on a research project for my Structure of English course at the UW-Stout.

I would really appreciate your participation in my project. Help me out, take my survey.

It will take you less than 4 minutes.

I will love you forever.

Take my survey!

All Caught Up

I am sitting in the library for the first time this semester. It seems in the hustle and bustle of my life, I have forgotten just how satisfying time in the library can be.

I always sit on the 5th floor. At UW-Stout, the 5th floor is the quiet floor.

Ahhhh, quiet. Enjoy it with me for just a moment.

I like to sit in the same desk next to the windows where the sun shines in. I sit here not just because I love sunshine, but because I'm fairly confident if I don't absorb the heat from the sun I will turn into a human Popsicle and die in the library.

I don't want to be a Popsicle.

Today I noticed they have placed a plant up here for us quiet lovers to enjoy. I believe they did this not for our well being or to clean the air, but just to prove that it's not really THAT cold up here. It's probably some plant that is hardy to zone arctic. Sneaky bastards.

Now the fifth floor is not a very popular floor. There are always a few stragglers up here that are frantically cramming through assignments. It would be interesting to take a pole of the GPA that the students on the fifth floor have. I'd like to think that all the really smart, hardworking students hang out up here, like some type of club.

Then I realize that the people in the corner are making out. I'm going to tell myself that they are doing research on PDA and how people react to it and just sink a little lower in my desk.

So while I sit in the library, soaking up the sun and the quiet, I realized for the first time in the entire semester, I'm ahead on all of my projects. Thank you, daycare While I'm finally able to slow down and not frantically cram through assignments, Brody is one building over having a blast with a bunch of other one year olds. On Monday he painted a pumpkin! The best part was how proud he was when I came home, picked up the pumpkin, and told him it was beautiful. I'm pretty sure he is the next Picasso, but I'll let you be the judge of that.

Daycare!

When did daycare get to be such a hostile topic to discuss?!

There are a number of groups people fit into with their daycare view. First, we have the "Daycare is the only way your child will learn anything" group. This group believes that stay at home mom's are completely incapable of educating their children and preparing them for the world. Children that stay at home will be damaged forever because they wont know how to socialize with other kids. They are never going to be exposed to germs so someday, when they're in the "real world," they're going to contract a cold and die.

Then you have the "daycare is the devil - kids belong at home with their parents" group. This group believes that sending your children to daycare is equivalent to saying that you don't love them. This only teaches children that parents aren't important and family bonding will never happen.

The third, and final, group "daycare is so expensive and I can't believe anyone would pay someone else to raise their child." The members of this group are mostly single and child free. They make me laugh.

My response? I'm a college student pulling a 3.9 cumulative GPA after five years of college. If that doesn't qualify me to teach my child the itsy bitsy spider and how to wash his hands, the world is surely in trouble. Brody has been home, with just me and no other children, for 15 months. He shares toys well, doesn't hit, doesn't bite, and is generally a fun child to spend time with. He loves other people and willingly goes to anyone - something I'm not sure is so fantastic. I believe a slight hesitance to go to other people is OK for a child.

I have loved having Brody home with me. I've been very lucky that I have had him with me for 15 months. I was there for the first time he rolled over, first time he crawled, first steps, first words, and every other first. I've had oodles of time to play with him and I always make sure to get a fair share of hugs and kisses in everyday. I know my son loves me from the huge grin he has every time I walk in the door from work. That grin is priceless.

I also know that I cannot continue functioning at the pace I have been going forever. Brody is a boy on the move and he takes a lot of energy to keep up with. I've been feeling very guilty the last few weeks as I've plopped him down on the couch and turned the TV to Nick Jr, begging for just twenty more minutes of quiet time so I can frantically scratch one more assignment off the never ending homework list.

So today, Brody started his new routine of going to daycare every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Yes, it's expensive. Even the student rate at $66 for three full days makes me question if this is the right decision. Surely, I could suck it up and keep him home and get everything done and save my family a lot of money, but the cost of my health and sanity are equally important.

I dropped Brody off at 7:30 this morning. The minute we walked in the door he ran over to give the fish tank a kiss. He then started playing with all of the toys. He wouldn't even sit still so I could take his jacket off. We snapped a picture before I left for the day. He didn't even realize, or care, that I was leaving. He just wanted to play with the big yellow truck.

I know a number of friends have been making bets as to whether or not there would be tears from me on the first day of daycare. I can honestly say there have no been tears. There was a feeling of relief when I came home and had a quiet house. I don't have to worry about trying to multitask my way through all of my obligations and can feel satisfied that Brody is getting the attention he needs and wont be spending a day enchanted by cartoons.

So while everyone is busy giving me their opinions about how I'm scarring my child for life, I'm busy making the best decisions I can for my life and family. In the end, my family's happiness is the only thing that matters.

Just Ten More Minutes...

Today started off on the wrong foot.

It started at 4:30. No day should start at 4:30 in the morning. Not unless you are getting paid a boat load of money to read a teleprompter on the news.

There was a flat tire on the car, a frustrated husband, and a crying baby. It's called life, and it's sloppy sometimes. Still, not exactly the things I wanted to wake up to.

I decided I was going to hold off on downing a pot of coffee. The baby would totally go back to sleep for a nice long nap - right?

The baby didn't go back to sleep.

Instead we stayed up and partied and ate pancakes until Brody fell asleep in his highchair - little fists clenching wads of syrup covered goodness. That peaceful image lasted all of 20 minutes.

Since then, it has been "lets see what I can climb to scare the shit out of Mom!"

The bookcase.
The back of the couch.
The coffee table/end table.
The window sills.

.... Oh to be one and have no fear.

At 10:45 Brody finally closed his eyes for what I thought would be his normal solid hour and a half nap. I laid down on the couch, turned on trash E! TV for the first time in a week, and I closed my eyes. 11:09 and Brody was wide awake.

Since then we've had lunch. I've cursed at the husband's inability to make a schedule. I've cried over some article about a woman who got pregnant, found out she had brain cancer, and died to save the baby. I've pulled Brody off the bookcase twice.

While I may want to pull my hair out today, I am constantly reminding myself that this is the last week of trying to do it all. There's only 5 days, 18 hours, 27 minutes, and 8...7... 6... 5... seconds until Brody starts daycare!

Until then, cheers! Life is sloppy!

The Power of Opinions

Two weeks ago when I began researching ways to teach Brody how to sleep through the night, I stumbled upon some fantastic parenting websites. I admit - I have been sucked in and reading articles non stop instead of doing homework. It's like the articles directly speak to me....

Why Stay-at-home-Moms Shouldn't Feel Guilty About Day Care

Why a Mommy Salary Makes Sense

Why Your Child Should Be Reading by SIX MONTHS! DON'T FALL BEHIND!

What has intrigued me more are not the actual articles, but the reactions TO the articles. Not only do people passionately agree with the article, but they even more passionately disagree with the article. It reinforces the idea that raising a child is a complicated business, and if you're going to succeed in this business of Mommyhood, then you better toughen up your skin!

It starts when your pregnant. Random strangers walk up to you and start conversations that go something like this....

"When is the baby due? Is it a boy or a girl? Do you have a name picked out? Are you excited? How much weight have you gained? Are you going to breastfeed?..."

You somewhat politely try to respond as you tear their hands from your belly when it suddenly hits you - a total stranger is asking you about your weight and your boobs.

Resist the urge to go into a hormone fueled rant about how you were just trying to purchase some God damn chocolate and it's none of their God damn business how many pounds you put on because you look beautiful no matter what and the Dr. said it was ok that you gained 10 pounds in a month.

Whew, I feel better now that I got that off my chest.

It's not just that they are asking about your bosoms, but they then feel the need to give their opinion on breastfeeding.

"It's the most natural thing in the world. Bottles are way more convenient. It's so healthy. You're crazy to nurse. You'll lose so much weight."

The opinions can become suffocating as they make you second guess everything you're planning on doing when the baby arrives.

Lucky for me, I already knew what kind of a Mom I wanted to be and I wasn't willing to let the opinions of others change my mind.

I tried very hard to breastfeed Brody when he was born. We went through six weeks of hell. Turns out he was tongue tied severely enough that it was preventing him from transferring milk. It took me six weeks of trying to nurse, visiting the hospital's Lactation Consultant THREE times, seeing my counties breastfeeding expert, and having a home visit from the county nurse to figure out why Brody wasn't eating.

I spent six weeks listening to the world around me telling me to quit trying to nurse and just give him a bottle. Six weeks of being told that nursing isn't that big of a deal and babies that get formula are just as healthy. Over and over and over I heard this.

But it wasn't as simple as just giving him a bottle and everything will be better. He couldn't drink milk from my breast, he couldn't drink milk from a bottle nipple, and he was a hungry baby.

By the time we got his tongue clipped at six weeks (another controversial subject that I had to hear about from the world), my breasts had been through hell and back. My Dr. said he never seen a woman with nipples that were so torn apart. They were hamburger. Brody had developed horrible nursing habits from spending the first six weeks of his life trying anything to get milk into his tummy. It was pretty clear that my breasts needed a break from my child in order heal, so I began to pump my milk.

For those that have never been around a woman using a breast pump - it's a lengthy process. I pumped 6-7 times a day. For most women it takes about twenty minutes each time. I was special. Brody had spent so much time nursing that he had over stimulated my body and my milk production went crazy. I could have EASILY fed twins and still had milk to spare. My morning pumping session would take an hour. The other 6 sessions would take 30 minutes.

It's not just that you have to find time to sit down and pump while keeping a newborn happy, but you then have you wash all of your equipment after each use. Add ten minutes to the routine for cleaning. Then you have to store the milk. Add five minutes. Then add in the time it takes to thaw the frozen milk, warm the bottle, and feed the child. Add in the time it takes to wash bottles.

My day started to look something like this....

1. Pump
2. Wash parts, store milk
3. Make bottle
4. Feed baby
5. Change baby
   
6. Wash bottles
7. 20 minutes of free time - do laundry, take shower, keep baby happy
   
8. Repeat from Step 1

The world really started to tell me that I was a crazy person. I kept hearing over and over that I should just give him formula. I'd respond that formula is costly. They'd respond "that's what WIC is for."

That was humiliating. Being told to go into the WIC program so that I could afford to purchase powdered milk for my child when I was producing more milk than he could ever drink in a day.

I viewed my milk as liquid gold. Nectar from the Gods. I was giving my child a healthy start and I was proud of that.

When my maternity leave was over I returned to work and had to figure out how to maintain a pumping schedule with a professional schedule. It was my return to work that really made me hear societies views of my parenting style.

"How long do you plan on pumping? Why don't you just buy formula? Don't you want your time back? There are a lot of babies that are formula fed and they're just fine. Don't you think you're being a little extreme?"

Christmas came around and when I politely excused myself from a party so that I could pump a person I just met exclaimed very loudly that my baby was six months old and it was disgusting that I was still breastfeeding - even it the breast milk was coming from a bottle.

It had been my intention from Day 1 that I would nurse Brody until he was a year. I didn't understand why people were so upset that I was spending my time playing Dairy Cow in order to feed my child. Was my pumping habit interrupting their day? No. Did they have to watch me pump? No. Did they have to watch my child so I could pump? No.

So why did they care so damn much?

As I traveled home for Christmas I developed mastitis. The infection hit me hard. It was painful and my body felt like it had the worst flu ever. I kept pumping throughout the infection and again, people thought I was crazy.

The infection killed my amazing milk supply. I went from storing 20-30 oz of milk in my freezer a day, to barely producing enough to feed my child for the day. I was disappointed, but in a way this was ok. I had already filled on small chest freezer full of milk, and part of our large chest freezer as well. I was running out of room.

Then in the spring my husband and I went on a wonderful belated honeymoon to Vail, CO. It was a free trip that our friends helped us win so that we could take the honeymoon we never got due to his injury in Iraq. The second day of the trip I fell snowboarding and snapped my wrist in half.

Pumping with a broken wrist doesn't work. I had to stop.

I was disappointed that I had to stop and I knew I didn't have enough frozen stock to get Brody to a year. I was, however, very proud of myself for sticking to my belief that I was doing the best possible thing for my child and NOT listening to the world around me.

Brody made it to nine months with just my milk, and I'm VERY proud of that. I worked hard for that milk! He has been a very healthy child and at the age of 14 months has only had the need for antibiotics once to treat an ear infection.

For those that are opposed to breastfeeding, they tell me he's been healthy because I'm a horrible Mom who keeps my child secluded in our house and away from children in daycare where he belongs.

I've learned to shrug my shoulders and say, yup - you might be correct. All I know is that if the decisions I have made as a parent produce a healthy and happy child then I must be doing something right. So go ahead society, keep on telling me how wrong I am. My skin is tough.

Dear President Obama, I want a Unicorn...

Stuck working a crappy job that doesn't pay very much?

Want to get a higher education but don't think you can afford it?

Do you want housing that is affordable for you and your family?

Well it's your lucky day!

The government will solve your problems. They'll put money in your checking account. They'll pay for your college education. They'll put a roof over your head and ensure you can put food on the table for your family.

You see, the government has this great program - perhaps you've heard of it. It's this little thing called the military. It's pretty awesome. You get to wear a super snazzy uniform, you'll finally lose the ten pounds you've been "working" at for months, and you'll be serving your country!

Do I sound grumpy?

Good. I'd hate to lose my conservative edge.

The Sound of Silence

Do you hear that.... ?










That is silence.

That is the sound of Mama having the house to herself all.night.long.

Oh the things I can do. Take a bubble bath. Watch E! without being hassled by the husband ("That stuff rots your brain!"). Drink a glass of wine without being interrupted. Do a pile of homework that needs my undivided attention.

Wait, homework?!

Oh yeah, welcome back to reality. There is a whole pile of homework to do.

At least I can enjoy the silence.

Single Parent

I have been a single Mom this week while my husband is off playing working at The Great Portable Sawmill Shootout taking place at the Paul Bunyan Show in Cambridge, OH. I have a great fantasy that this is a weekend of hunky men carrying heavy lumber while wearing partially unbuttoned flannel shirts.

Then I remember I watched JR pack his bag.

There was no flannel involved.

From the pictures I've seen, I have come to realize that this event is a large gathering of men who have an obsession with lumber and really big machines that make really big piles of sawdust. I'm sure conversations about how a sawmill can be modified for more power are common, followed by grunting. Tim Taylor would be proud.

I can almost hear the conversations happening around the mills in my mind....

"Oh man, did you see that Woodmizer sink it's blade into the oak? It was beautiful. Like a hot knife sliding through butter..."

"Now that right there is a beautiful piece of lumber. I can't even find a knot in it."

Yawn.

I'll go back to my visions of flannel.

So while J.R. has been off playing Lumberjack, a favorite hobby of his, I've been running the house. Kind of.

I determined that it was past time for Brody to learn how to sleep in his crib, on his own, for a whole night. He got into this nasty habit of having to sleep with us in our bed right about the time I snapped my wrist in half in Colorado this spring. (Sidenote - if you can't chew gum and walk at the same time, you probably shouldn't snowboard. I tried explaining this to J.R., but he dragged me up the mountain anyway. )

Every night around 3 am Brody wakes up screaming. It's not nightmares. It's not because he's hungry. It's not because he wants a dry diaper. He just simply wants to take up an entire queen sized bed and torture his parents.

After all sorts of reading online I've determined the best way to teach Brody that he needs to sleep in his own bed is to let him scream it out.

I'm not a huge fan of letting my kid scream himself to sleep, but I want my bed back. Also, I can't believe I'm going to admit this, I kinda like snuggling with my husband at night. Having Brody laying horizontally across the bed with his head on my chest and his feet in J.R.'s face - it interrupts that whole snuggling business.

So being the completely awesome wife I am, I decided this was a great week to start teaching Brody how to sleep on his own because J.R. would be gone and instead of BOTH of us getting no sleep, just one of us would be getting no sleep. I think this act of selflessness deserves a present from Tiffany & Co.

The first night I put Brody to bed at 8:30 - a huge improvement from his normal 10 pm bedtime. Ten minutes of fussing and lights out. He slept until 7:45 the next morning.

I awoke one overly proud parent. All night! He slept ALL NIGHT! All I needed to do was put him to sleep earlier and keep his sleep area dark and quiet. Easy peasy.

The next night we followed the same bedtime routine. Lights out by 8:25. Life is good.

Then 2 am came, and so did the screaming. I went to Brody, gave him a kiss on the forehead, laid him back down, told him that I loved him and quietly explained that night time is very boring and we need to sleep. In our own bed.

Repeat at 2:30.

Repeat at 3.

Repeat at 3:30.

Repeat at 4.

At 4:30 I break down and give Brody a small bottle. I rubbed his back until he FINALLY went to sleep.

I went back to sleep on the couch but kept having nightmares that I died on the couch while J.R. was away and that Brody was trapped in his crib, screaming and hungry, for 2 days until somebody found us. Twisted. This is why you don't let your son scream himself to sleep. Feelings of guilt screw with your mind.

I was a zombie the next day, but we survived.

Last night was almost a success. He started waking up around 5 am and with a little encouragement from me, he stayed in his crib until 6:30 when he decided we should wake up and watch the sun rise. No biggie, it was a beautiful morning and I got some pretty fantastic snuggles out of it.

Tonight he was in bed by 8. He's really getting the hang of our new bed time routine and didn't even fuss when I put him in his crib. I'm crossing my fingers that we make it through the night with no interruptions.

On top of very little sleep, I have still been trying to keep up with all of the other responsibilities I have. My kitchen is clean. Kind of. My floors are clean. Kind of. And the laundry is done. Kind of.

While my house might not be in the best shape ever, at least I managed to complete all of my homework and get it turned in.

I'm pretty proud of how well Brody and I did this week on our own. It's not easy being responsible for a very busy one year old 24 hours a day, especially when you don't get a lot of sleep and have a lot of other responsibilities that demand your attention as well. It will be nice to have J.R. home tomorrow afternoon to help with Brody so that I can have a break from multitasking.

As for tonight, I'm praying for a little bit of sleep so I can be rested for the return of my favorite Lumberjack tomorrow.

Say Cheese!!!

Simplicity for the win!

Simplicity Vs. Interrupted

My house, the snake pit, sits nestled into a hill side. It is surrounded by corn fields and even though the neighbors house is less than a quarter mile away, I can't see them and they can't see me. I like it this way.

When we were looking at houses we knew we could only purchase a house that had high speed Internet access. We were fortunate enough to find this "gem" of a house that met our need of feeling secluded while still being modern enough for us to connect to the outside world. I do enjoy my cable TV and my Internet is blazing fast. There is just one small problem with the location of our home: We don't have cell phone reception.

At first this was a problem. Correction, a crisis. A crisis of epic proportions. I LIVE for gossiping on the phone and how was I going to have an instant alert that a new e-mail had arrived?

We got a land line. Yeah, one of those big clunky things that has big buttons on it and doesn't conveniently fit into your back pocket. I know, I thought they were extinct too.

The first year was really hard. I would stand in all sorts of crazy positions around the property just so I could send and receive a text message. Sometimes, I would drive down the road 50 feet so I could use my cell phone. I felt so disconnected from the world. Never mind that I had facebook and knew what all of my friends were doing at any point of the day. It just wasn't the same as picking up my phone for gossip time - and using the land line to call long distance is expensive! Oh cell phone minutes, how I missed you and your lack of differentiation between long distance and local calling.

Then I discovered something amazing. Quiet can be a good thing.

I've adjusted to not having cell phone service and I actually enjoy it. I don't have to feel as though I need to be instantly connected and always available for everyone in the world. I can walk outside to the garden and never once be interrupted with a phone call or a text message. I'm able to really enjoy family moments now that I'm not rushing around trying to communicate with the rest of the world.

Because I rarely use my cell phone, I haven't upgraded my phone since 2007. My phone is just shy of it's 5th birthday. It's taped together. Literally. There are four pieces of duct tape that are holding my phone together. The screen is so scratched that you can barely see what you're doing, and people constantly complain that they can't hear me when I'm on my cell phone.

I'm pretty proud of my taped together phone. I feel like the smart consumer who is saving loads of money by keeping the same product forever and ever. But as more and more people started to complain that they couldn't hear me, I knew it was time to look into purchasing a new phone.

Smart consumer feeling went bye-bye.

Did you know today's phones not only make telephone calls, but they can cook you dinner?!

OK, perhaps a phone making dinner is a slight exaggeration, but I just about fell over when the nice man at the T-Mobile booth patiently started showing me everything new phones could do.

Then, the unthinkable happened. He showed me the most amazing button EVER.

Apparently, you can make and receive calls on your cell phone through you home wireless network. At no extra cost. You probably knew this because you live in the modern world with your shiny, non taped together phone. Please excuse my shock and awe. I live under a rock.

I instantly wanted to abandon my simple life free from interruptions so I could once again be connected to the world.

Then I heard the price tag.

Even with my upgrade it was still going to cost me 200 bucks, after a 100 dollar mail in rebate. While the good American in me wanted to whip out a credit card and get that instant gratification of owning new technology, I reminded myself that I don't own a credit card and that diapers beat new phone every time.

I've had a few days to mull it over and I'm not certain I want a phone that I can make calls through my wireless network with. Do I really NEED to be so connected to the outside world? My land line phone number is very protected, and only the most important people to us have the number. Like the e-mail address you send junk mail to, my cell phone collects the unwanted phone calls from the VA, or Walgreen's, or the drunk dial from a friend in the middle of the night.

And yes, I know, I don't HAVE to enable the wireless calling, but lets be realistic - it will always be enabled when I'm at home. Cell phones are like Facebook, addicting and impossible to turn off.

So I face a major decision: Purchase the phone, move back into the real world, and be permanently connected to everyone in it, OR keep the taped together phone and enjoy the simplicity, UNinterrupted.