digital parenting. yes, it means more than just tweeting all day while your kid is locked in the closet. at least that’s what i’ve been told. (pffffft)

Disclosure: while I was not paid for this post specifically, I am compensated for my work on the Family Connections citizen journalism project. Seeing as how I invite you all to crawl up in my butt on a regular basis, I thought maybe I should tell you that.

For the past few months, I’ve been participating in BlogHer’s Family Connections citizen journalism project as a Momspotter. Basically that means I tweet a few times a day with the #momspotting hashtag about how I use technology in my day-to-day parenting life.  I also write forum posts on the Family Connections Group at Blogher about digital parenting topics.  I’ve had a lot of fun talking about this stuff, and it’s made me consider the impact of digital technology on my family in much more depth.  Seeing thoughts from other parents who have older kids has also made me realize what we might be facing in the years to come!  There’s a little meme associated with this project, and I’m going to answer the questions here, for your amusement and inspiration.

(More disclosure: I totally ripped off the “for your amusement and inspiration” phrase from an episode of Spongebob Squarepants, because that is the level of intelligence I strive to emulate.  When I was typing it, I heard his voice in my head.  At some point, I can promise you that I’m going to work the phrase “The official testament of how heartily we party… hearty?” into a post. Yes, I am a highly educated and classy sophisticate with incredibly literate and lofty aspirations.)

Anyway, If you like this meme, feel free to do one yourself and leave a link in the comments or tweet it with the #momspotting hashtag. (And if you hate the word “meme,” like I do, you can totally set a flaming bag of dog poo at its front door while we laugh and hide behind a tree.  And just call this a survey.  Or something.)

1. Which expensive electronic device do you most often let your older children abuse or your baby drool on?
   Braden is neither a baby nor an older child, so I guess it’s fitting that he alternately abuses and drools on my iPhone. I know. Even I think I’m a certified moron for letting him anywhere near such an expensive piece of technology, but he’s supervised (I don’t let him walk away with it) and he’s much more careful with it than you might think. Sometimes I let him play a game alone, sometimes we engage in an activity together. My favorite has been watching him create his own songs with layered tracks using the Zoozbeat App. And you can see from this photo how tickled he is by that. Totally worth letting him play with the expensive gadget. And I have those songs saved.  They go in my “Braden” file right along with all the digital photos and videos of him.




2. How many take-out restaurant numbers do you have programmed into your phone?
   I actually have absolutely none of these programmed into my phone. I do, however, have several apps that can tell me what the nearest places are where I can get all kinds of things, from free wifi, to coffee, to food, to a happy ending, I mean a massage. *cough* John, however, does have numbers programmed into his phone for take-out from restaurants… because I HATE calling and placing orders and, as such, I force him to do it. Because I’m a control freak a good delegator of tasks to those who are best suited to complete them most effectively. (I used to be in Retail Management, can you tell? Heh.)




3. How many hours of television do you so totally not let your kids watch a week?
   Hahaha, well, Braden used to watch several hours of cartoons on PBS every morning, and sometimes in the afternoons, as well. Some days, there would be no TV. Most days, there was a lot of PBS (we only get limited basic, so there’s literally no other children’s programming for him to watch on TV). Various DVDs were in the mix, too (kiddie music, Thomas, etc). Over time, I decided he’d behave better if I limited his TV exposure. So now he watches at most 2-3 hours of something – that includes DVD watching. At least a couple days a week, we call “NO TV” all day. For the most part, he’s okay with it. Sometimes he LOSES HIS MIND. For all of 5 minutes. Then he gives up and moves on. And his behavior is much better with less television viewing. We have a motto: “Too much TV is bad for your brain!” He says it now. (I’m trying to get him to stop saying, “No, Mommy, no, not the closet again!” because that’s going to get me in trouble eventually.)




4. Do you think people who say “we don’t watch television” at playdates but really mean “we just watch DVDs” are lying liars from Liarville?
   I don’t know – I guess it’s possible that they are TOTALLY from Liarville. But if it’s anything like Margaritaville and they’re willing to share the yummy drinks, I’m okay with that.  Seriously, though, it doesn’t really matter whether the program is on a TV channel, streaming live on the Internet, or running off a DVD, it’s all media viewing, right?  So, yeah, it seems dumb to say “we don’t watch TV” if you mean “we only watch DVDs.”  But overall, I don’t care what other people do or don’t do.  Not my kid, not my business.




5. How many miles have you driven with your child and not one device of electronic entertainment in a single car trip?
   Well, when he was an infant we made 12 hour car trips, but he was technically asleep during most of them. Why? Because we were FRIGHTENED FOR OUR VERY LIVES. So we traveled overnight. We didn’t have a DVD player then, or smart phones, so we decided our best shot was driving all night to avoid the demon wailing. Later we got the portable DVD player and that became the primary method of calming the insane toddler during long rides. Because, GOOD LORD.  Sometimes you just want to jump out the window of a moving vehicle if you have to hear “WANT OUT, GO PLAYGROUND, SEE SEE SEE!!!” one.more.time.




6. What’s your record for calls to the pediatrician or Ask-a-Nurse in a single day?
   Um. One. Is this abnormal? I do admit that I’ve hit up Drs. Google and Twitter quite a bit. I recently learned all you’d ever want to know about Croup from Ye Olde Internet. Didn’t call the Ped once.




7. What’s the sexiest thing your husband/partner could text you after a hard day?
   “I know I am still on the road and won’t be home for another week, and you’re tired, so I hired a nanny and Keifer Sutherland is going to be over in about 2 hours. Have fun!”
   What? Ok, fine:
   “I miss you and I’m bringing home dinner so that you don’t have to make it or clean up afterwards.” RAWR, BABY.




8. What’s your favorite iPad joke?
   This entire post: The iPad Made Me Poop Bricks is my favorite iPad Joke. Also? The iPad itself is my favorite iPad joke.




9. What’s the dumbest parenting tool, gear, gadget or device you ever bought?
   ?? I honestly can’t think of a single one that we purchased that we thought was dumb. I even asked John, because I thought, “Surely there was something we bought that we later threw across the room, screaming, ‘WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT!’ because it was worthless.”  But no, he couldn’t think of anything.  Uh, we’re wise consumers who conduct effective research before making purchases?




10. How many years will it take for your child to become more tech-savvy than you?
    Hahaha, he may already be. He’s figured out how to do things on my iPhone in less than 10 seconds that I STILL don’t know how to do. He really needs to get a job soon and start pulling his own weight around here.  Stinkin’ free-loader.

Your turn, beeshes!

I clearly have superior parenting skills.

Braden is fully toilet trained.

I say this and feel odd, as if I’m talking about having gotten the puppy completely house trained. But yeah, it’s a lot like that, considering he used to piss on the floor pretty regularly.

And before you (I’m talking to “you,” the person who has spare time in his/her life to make asshat comments on posts because you hate yourself and you’re taking it out on others) go making some bitchass comment about how that wouldn’t have happened if I’d not let him run around naked all the time, please to be looking at this: click here for a special, pre-valentine’s day gift of love from me to you.

In all seriousness, though, leave any comment your heart desires.  I like it rough.

Also, I fully expect gratuitous thank you’s from ALL of you because for a split second, I considered posting Avitaballs as the link up there.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

Now we can move on.

So, Braden has been reliably doing all business on the toilet for quite some time now, but you’ll have to forgive me for not talking about that as the progress/training was ongoing. If you have children you know the rule: IF YOU CELEBRATE IT TOO SOON, THE UNIVERSE WILL PUNISH YOU WITH A SWIFT REGRESSION.

It is only now, after such a long time, that I feel safe telling you…

MY KID GOES ON THE TOILET! MY KID GOES ON THE TOILET! I DON’T HAVE TO WASH DIAPERS ANYMORE! I DON’T HAVE TO WASH SHITTY AND PISSY UNDERPANTS ANYMORE! THERE AREN’T PUDDLES OF URINE ON THE FLOOR IN THE BATHROOM ANYMORE! I DON’T HAVE TO PULL DOWN TINY UNERPANTS FULL OF BROWNIE BATTER ANYMORE!

When he can actually wipe his own ass, I think I’ll bake him a fuckin’ cake.

Now, having said all this, we *do* have occasional pee accidents because he has taken to doing the very same thing his Mommy does. He gets all wrapped up in something and he can’t.stop.and.go.pee.

Ladies and Gentlemen, my son is a Pee Holder.

He pretty much refuses to stop what he’s doing until he reaches CODE RED. At that point, he’s running to the bathroom like his testicles are on fire and sometimes he ends up wetting his pants while he’s right in front of the toilet trying to pull them down.

Which, yes, is maddening, and I’m all, “DUDE. You finally learned how to do this really well, don’t go screwing it up by waiting too long. Don’t wait, come right to the toilet!”

To which he replies, “What? All I know is that I’m totally going to forget everything you just said except that part where you said ‘don’t go screwing it up’ and I’m gonna yell that at top volume in public, repeatedly, the first time it seems like it might be really embarrassing for you. I might add in that word you said in the car the other day, too. ‘Asshole,’ right? Right. Now go wash my underpants, beesh.”

So, okay, yeah. I admit there are still a few accidents here and there. And the occasional shart. Which is really just funny, quite frankly, because he says, “Oooh, Braden pooped in pants,” and then quickly follows that with “It’s okay, it’s JustUhShart!”

It’s all par for the course.  Most of the time, things are now clean and dry around here, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

I have to admit that the Sentimental Mommy side of me does miss seeing that chubby hiney he used to flash as he ran around the house threatening carpets from wall to wall. Just a little.

But sometimes, we have special moments like the one that happened the other day:

Braden: *fidgeting in living room*

Me: “Do you have to pee?”

Braden: “Yes.”

Me: “Go to the bathroom.”

Braden: *doing the hammer dance in the living room*

Me: “What are you doing!? Go to the bathroom and PEE!”

Braden: “No, I DANCING FIRST.”

Me: *trying not to laugh. failing miserably*

Hey, at least he has his priorities. Sometimes, before you go to the bathroom, you just have to say, “STOP. HAMMERTIME.”

I stand by my celebration.  Because that? Is clearly a sign of superior parenting.

I only teach him the most important things.

And if you don’t think this is important, you wouldn’t fit in around here at all.

And I fart in your general direction.

wonder and light

it’s in every wide-eyed stare
that seems to light up
his whole face

while softening mine

it’s in the way he views lights
sweetly breathing the word,
“wowwwwwww”

my heart stops for a moment

it’s in the excited, rising
pitch in his voice as he says
“Santa” and “Cwissmas”

that puts a twinkle in my eyes

it’s in his sincere concern
when he asks me with
worry stitched across his face
“Am naughty, Santa bwing no pwesents?”

i have to stifle a laugh

it’s in the mirth with which he replies
“That’s wight! If I good, Santa bwings
pwesents! on CWISSMASSSS!”
when i remind him there’s still
hope

i love him no matter how naughty he is

it’s in the way i can feel the joy
as he does because he
reminds me how to

i have a reason to let go and smile

he runs the years back
on my rusty clock
just by being himself

the ultimate gift in life

he is wonder and light
and i am grateful.

boundless

you are small in stature
with a giant personality

your size never stops you
from expecting the most

and after all, tiny is
only temporary

(much to my dismay)

your are revving and racing
through days and months and years

every day that finds you
meets its match

there is no morning
afternoon or evening

that you can’t climb
and leap from

into the starry sky you soar
landing in your bed
with a soft thump and giggles

that don’t want to go night-night
even though your small body

is tired and weary

from all the battles you won today.

The Talk. No, not *that* one.

I think I screwed up on “The Spider Talk.”

Recently, Braden and I were sitting at the table eating dinner when he started talking about a spider while staring the Big Eye Stare at the floor to his right.  I looked, and yes, there was a wolf spider near the baseboard a few feet away from him.

I had actually seen the spider run in the door when I was letting the dog out to pee, minutes before we sat down to eat.

“That’s a spider, Mommy, a spider. That’s right, Mommy, THAT’S A SPIDER!”

“Yes, that’s a spider, Braden. It’s okay. The spider came inside because it is very cold outside and he wanted to warm up.”

“Spider came inside because it’s cooooooooold, Mommy.”

“Yes, he did. But if you leave him alone you will be fine.”

“Leave the spider alone!”

“That’s right, leave the spider alone, because if you bother the spider he will bite you.”

His head whipped around so fast it almost flew right off his neck and he stared at me. He took a very serious tone.

“He will bite you?”

“Yes, spiders can bite and it hurts very much.  If you bother the spider, he will bite you and that hurts. So just leave the spider alone, okay?”

He paused, staring at me with a great deal of concern.  Then, he got a bit excited.

“The spider will bite you and it hurts. It weally WEALLY WEALLY HURTS!”

I was starting to worry that maybe I should have just left the whole biting issue alone.

“Uh… um, yes. It might bite you if you mess with it.  And it really hurts.  So leave the spider alone.”

“THE SPIDER WILL BITE YOU AND IT WEALLY HUUUUUURRRTS!”

“Hey, why don’t you eat some more of your fish?”

During the rest of dinner, he kept looking over at the spider, who was still just sitting in his same spot.  He was probably thinking weird stalker spider thoughts.  I have to admit, it was kind of creepy the way he was just chilling there, seeming to stare at Braden.  Maybe wolf spiders like fish.  Maybe they like cute little boys.

I forgot about it and after dinner Braden was in the living room playing and I was in the kitchen making apple cider.

Suddenly he started making a ruckus and ran up to me and started tugging my pants leg frantically, making anxious breathing sounds as he jitterbugged in place.

“Mommy, hold me. Pick me up. Up. Up. Mommy hold me! Mommy, hold me!”

While it’s not unheard of for him to want me to hold him, he is generally not frantic like this about it.

“Why? Mommy is making cider, Braden.  What’s wrong?”

“MOH.MEE.HOLD.BRA.DEN.”

“Why?”

“The spider is RUNNING!!!!” (I could almost hear the implied, “you stupid bitch!” at the end.)

AWESOME. I did NOT instill Spider Awareness and Caution.  Instead I planted SPIDER FEAR ZOMG!

I really don’t want him to be afraid of spiders, just careful.  Then again, I know some parents who can tell you spider fear is probably better than the opposite side of the spectrum.  My parents would likely tell you it’s way better than having a kid who tried to keep a black widow spider as a pet and then let it loose in the house.

And a grade school teacher of mine will probably let you know that it’s totally uncool when a little girl brings said black widow spider to school for show and tell.

But as for Braden’s possible burgeoning spider fear?  If he does decide to go the route of Those Who Fear Arachnids, I may be unable to relate to him, but you need not worry about him feeling alone.  You see, there’s a club around here for Spider Scaredy-Cats.

Previously, there has only been one member.  I might be the only one around here with a real, working vagina, but sometimes you’d wonder.

Maybe they can perfect their girlish shrieks together as a bonding exercise.

The day I find a gimp mask or ball gag, I’m hiding in the closet.

Periodically, as I am straightening up the house (don’t laugh, sometimes I actually do that), I find odd little arrangements of things that Braden has left behind.

I used to think this was just coincidence.

I’m beginning to think he’s leaving me little messages. Mildly inappropriate ones, at that.

And, to be quite honest, sometimes I am afraid.

Very afraid.

Farterworks

Even though we took these photos over a month ago (dude, who keeps letting time move by SO FAST?) I thought I’d share them with you, because they kind of crack me up.

This was a Saturday morning Mac Photo Booth play session with Braden (hence the fabulous photo quality, *snort*). He is both silly and fun as well as intensely moody, whiny, and dramatic.

I really have no idea whose child this is. *wink*

smiling pretty for the camera

after being scolded for slapping the keyboard

making fun of him for whining

giving in to the giggles after the tears

I adore hanging out with him and being silly. He is displaying such a fabulous sense of humor these days, which makes it even more fun.

And by sense of humor, I mean that he is cracking me up by replicating my incorrigible taste for fart jokes, with indelible favorites like:

*the sound of fireworks outside*
Him: “Ooooooh, Farter!”
Me: “No, silly, you know those are fireworks!”
Him: Pause. *giggle* “Oooooooh, FARTER-WORKS!” *raucous laughter*
Me: *SMPL*

Gotta love havin’ a little boy. Especially when you are secretly one, too.