It's a funny double life we bloggers lead. On the one manicured hand, frequent posting and checking in online keeps us a part of this Invisible Internet Friends community; on the other, if we don't take enough time away from our laptops and cameras, we don't have much real life experience to write about - and, um, possibly more importantly - nor can we enjoy that "real life" much if we constantly feel the tug of an electronic leash.
It's something I've struggled with lately - yes, it's true, I don't only wrestle with deeply superficial questions as "Should I buy those shoes?" (Answer: I did) - and an excellent point raised by Invisible Internet Friends Hopsy and Erin in response to that blogging community post. How to indulge my little online hobby here and stay in touch with our online family without letting it sneak into the time I want and need to be taking care of my real-life one?
Because I love nothing more than setting up impossible expectations for myself, this week - the same one in which I vowed to be a kinder, more responsive citizen of the internet - I also vowed to close my laptop and step away from the iPhone more during the daytime hours when Master P isn't napping. Some overlap is both inevitable and enjoyable, of course. After all, part of the reason this post-child Pretty 2.0 exists is to have a family document of these times together . . . but, somehow, I want to be fully present while doing my SAHM thing too.
Master P and I were enjoying one such computer & camera-free evening the other night in our backyard, by which I mean to say that the wee CEO was in full-fledged, Caps Lock'ed "YOU MUST PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOW NOW NOW BECAUSE I WILL NOSE-DIVE OFF THIS PATIO CHAIR!" mode. The skies clouded over while a brisk wind blew in, threatening rain. Master P paused from his chair leaping to point at the sky, then ambled over to sit in my lap and take it all in. We sat for a spell, a rare occasion in the life of a toddler and toddler mama, and just listened to the leaves rustling.
I don't know where it came from - a recent service? a post from one of you? - but in that stillness the Psalm "Be still. . ." came to mind. No cameras, no laptops, just us, in wonder. I might have missed it had I been distracted Tweeting or trying to get a picture of it. Instead, it was just us, just the right balance, being still.
Would that I had some stirring conclusion or words of great wisdom for you about this, but . . . nope, I'm still here just trying to find the right balance while eating way more candy corn than nature intended. Way. Speaking of: