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Thursday, July 11, 2013

unplugged.

There were nine lovely days at the Sugar in which several people remarked on how happy our children seemed.  How very content and well-behaved they were.  My children.
It's not because we're fantastic parents (although we undoubtedly are) or because I've read all the books and breastfed them until they were one and try to keep them away from dyes and sugar as much as possible.  My children are happy at the Sugar because they are unplugged.  Period.  There isn't even the chance of it.  This is the U.P., people, not everyone is even walking fully upright yet.  And so every summer we head there and marvel at how peaceful it is and then we come home to wreckage and shake our heads and remember the bygone days of peace, all memories wrapped in a sweet pink haze and bearing significant resemblance Massengil commercials. But after a while even thinking of walking hand in hand on the beach talking about things like world peace and feminine freshness can't override the reality of kids hanging off my skirt, begging for five more minutes so they can assemble their clans or spawn a few horses for their pastures.  We were, I'm totally serious, not even in the door from the Sugar before Peter asked if he could play Minecraft.  Not even in the door.  And a little piece of my soul shriveled and I realized we were once again: plugged.
We existed in a sort of re-entry hell for less than two days, marked with near constant fighting over technology, before I threw up my hands and declared a moratoriam on technology.  No Minecraft.  No Clash of Clans.  No American Girl website.  No apps.  Peter promptly threw a tantrum to end all tantrums.  I finally  understand what "weeping and gnashing of teeth" looks like.  There was mourning in Zion.  But within twenty minutes he'd moved from wicked pissed to putting together a new puzzle from the bored box.
My phone is just a phone again.  That's lovely.  The ipods have gathered dust in their baskets.  Kids have stopped asking if I've changed my  mind yet and have just accepted that I haven't.  Won't.  It's not forever, just until August 1 and then we'll reevaluate.  Until then, the only thing we're spawning is creativity and peace.  And those in spades.  There have been far less clashes amongst the sibs, far less of me using the computer as a babysitter.  And Amazon hasn't been here all day.  The UPS man is gong to miss us.  Because I'm unplugging too.  I'm typing this in secret while the kids are outside playing.  Together.  And while it's probably something involving either weapons or tools, probably something other mothers would die before allowing, they are happiest when they are free-ranging.
The humidity has broken, which means I no longer have to shop in the ethnic hair product section of Meijer for Lucy.  The lion's share of what we're eating has come from the Farmer's Market.  And we went for our first all together swim in the lake took place yesterday when, I swear, the water was warmer than the air and I was back with the family I'd missed while away.  The girls gave me a make-over this afternoon and now I look like a kewpie doll, but I got to lay on the couch with my eyes closed while it took place and that's totally worth it.  We've eaten ten pounds of blueberries since yesterday and the bunny is still hopping around the house instead of installed in her very expensive and lovely outside hutch.  I love these days.  Seriously.
This is me being real.  Unplugged is where it's at, y'all.

1 comment:

  1. Amen Sister! I want to ban Minecraft (which I call MineCRACK) and the IPODS too! We have banned them from the cottage at least and that has been a huge improvement! Glad to hear we aren't the only ones!! =)

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