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October 21, 2011


Unless you are particularly sadistic, anyone can look back and see the days where they are less than proud of the way they’ve acted and treated their fellow man. Those are usually the nights when people drown their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle… or a vat of Diet Pepsi, if you’re nursing a baby. Yesterday was one of those days around our house and it all started with an apple. Not a piece of fruit mind you, but my iPhone for which I have an undying, passionate love. As a stay-at-home mom, that phone is my lifeline to the outside world. To peace, quiet, and the far too accessible arms of the iTunes store with an unlimited supply of music to add to my collection.

For those of you who don’t know, Apple recently came out with a new operating system for their products, iOS5. While the name of their new system looks like a toddler smashed his fist on a keyboard in the throes of a tantrum, Apple is a huge, worldwide corporation and can apparently name their products whatever they please.

Like everybody else, I jumped on the new iAsdfoijwe6923idfn bandwagon and downloaded the update to my iPhone. Pretty quickly, I realized that part of the program wasn’t operating correctly so I decided to call to the support line and subsequently spent 20 minutes of my life chatting with the tech about what it’s like to live in Minnesota while the specialized technicians tried to figure out a solution to my problem.

But then our cell phone (which serves as a home line) beeped in my ear and I realized that it was about to die. Things looked promising with the changes we’d made to my iPhone so I signed off and hoped that everything would start to work with a wave of my magic wand.

Unfortunately, my iWand failed… probably because it’s a futuristic Apple product that hasn’t yet been made to replace support techs. APPLE, I AM TOTALLY PATENTING THIS IDEA. DIBS.

I waited for Jonathan to come home since I didn’t know where the power cord was stored for our home phone and begged the use of his Blackberry to finish this painful process. That’s when I learned that calling Apple support in the evening is a very bad idea. After I had aged roughly ten years, the technician finally came on the phone and though he wanted to be helpful, couldn’t reach the specialists because they were too busy. After suffering through another century of being on hold, he finally passed the call off to his supervisor.

That’s when the unthinkable happened. Suddenly, without the decency of a warning or the courtesy of a HEADS UP, MORON!, I heard a beep which was followed immediately by deafening silence. The Blackberry ran out of battery and died right there in my hands.

That may have been the point where I lost it and screamed something about worthless phones and burning in hell. Yes, that was directed at the Blackberry… and anyone within a fifty-mile radius of my temper tantrum.

Naturally, it took time to find the power cords to the Blackberry and the home phone and, by that point, the woman I had been speaking with was no longer available. I left a message and then simmered dinner on the stove with my burning hatred of all things electronic.

I wasn’t exactly pleasant to be around for the rest of the evening, what with spending an obscene portion of my day trying to get to the root of my phone problems while simultaneously dealing with some epic toddler tantrums. Finally, once the kids were in bed and I was enjoying my peace and quiet, I turned to the comforting arms of the Internet… and realized that it was down. Again.

Trying to remember that four-letter words weren’t going to help the situation, I contacted our Internet provider who, at ten-thirty at night, looked up our account and informed me that we have problems with our modem. Basically, our modem has about as much value as last month’s newspaper. Or, in toddler-speak, it went BOOM.

That’s when I realized what was really happening: our modem, the worthless piece of junk sitting in my laundry room, had been causing the problems all along- not my iPhone. All of my angst and fury yesterday afternoon was completely unwarranted except, perhaps, that which was directed at the Blackberry from hell.

May it die a thousand horrible deaths.

More importantly, my attitude last evening was inexcusable. Moping around and being snippy with my husband over a few wasted hours? What kind of an example did that set for my kids, especially our toddler whose watchful eyes overlook nothing?

I’m not proud of the way that I acted yesterday. In fact, I’m more than a little embarrassed to admit how easily I threw in the towel and quit trying. But today is a new day and a fresh start. I have perspective on the situation and the forgiveness of a husband who is far more patient than myself. Finally, I’m resolving not to let the hormones or the perpetual exhaustion of motherhood get the best of me, especially as I begin plotting an “accident” for a particular mobile device.

Here Blackberry, Blackberry, Blackberry...

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