The One Where my iPad Takes a Bath
“Life in itself is not a ladder; it is a see-saw.”
G.K. Chesterton, The Well and the Shallows
May I be completely honest? I don’t have a lot of time for reading Chesterton these days, so when it comes to doing this weekend link-up, which I love, I simply take down my copy of The Apostle of Common Sense (which is signed by the author “To my favorite parishioner” because that is what I told him to write), and find a quote that goes with what I’m going through.
These days, I’m going through kids and lots of ’em.
These days, I’m hanging on for the ride.
That said, there have been moments of great grace this past week. For example, I have been praying a lot about time spent on my iPad. “Do I really need to check Facebook so often? Should I try to give up Candy Crush for Lent?”
My tired, time-wasting side was insistent with her counter argument. “Yes, you do. No, you shouldn’t. You need an occasional break. You need to recreate.”
And then it happened.
God answered my prayer.
He ripped off the band-aid by taking away the iPad.
Rrrrrriiiiiiiippppp! went the band-aid. No more iPad for Margaret.
It all transpired a bit like this: Having been drooled on and played with by Francis the Toddler (see Kitchen Gnome above), the screen was thoroughly covered with gunk. Therefore, another Berns child helpfully came to the rescue (!) by hosing off the iPad in the sink.
Pfffpt went the iPad.
WAAAH!!! went Margaret.
(Yes, I’m going through withdrawal.)
(I’m sure–and not sure–God knows what He’s doing.)
Do you have an iPad? Then you understand my pain. I’ve got it drying out in rice as we speak, but frankly I think it’s gone the way of the dodo bird.
So there you go and here I go. My see-saw life goes slamming down and I’ve got my Lenten penance ready & raring to go.
|“Yay!” says the toddler.|
Either that or I’ll go stark raving mad and beg like crazy for my husband to replace it.
Which he will…I hope?…eventually.
God willing & budget permitting.
|“This means more Mommy Time for me!”|
Meanwhile, I’m finding this withdrawal of mine…interesting. (Yes, children, Mommy is weeping for no reason!) Also, though, there’s this big chunk of time that’s been suddenly freed up and I’m wondering, how best to use it?
My kids have ideas of their own, believe me.
This morning at my holy hour, I gazed at the monstrance and whispered fervently, “I trust You.”
“I trust You to help me bear these crosses. I trust You to help be a good wife and mother. I trust You to help me be a saint.”
Whatever it takes, and however rough the road might be…
I’m here for the ride and it’s never boring.