Upon arriving home with my 4th child, the MacMini died. Just kaput. Gave up the ghost. Kicked the proverbial bucket. Now, in its defense, it is very old, and it has been through a lot, like having 3 DVDs shoved in it at one time, having popsicle sticks lodged in the CD drive, and being dropped and vigorously unplugged, as a defensive tactic. It lived a good life.
I, on the other hand, face new challenges. Like most young and neglectful parents, I had intended on setting some boundaries and locking down on computer time really, really soon, just not the first week home with a newborn. I had even expressed to the MOG that I was planning to totally phone it in this week and let them veg, for the sake of my own sleep and sanity.
But no. God in heaven laughed at my plans, and reached out and smote my MacMini. I would be in a crisis of faith, but I'm too tired. The 3 big kids have decided to spend the time formerly given to PBS to me, alternately sitting on me and jumping on my organs, and petting the baby, and reading my text messages over my shoulder with commentary. They've also given themselves to the pursuit of finding their own snacks, and have eaten most of a 72 pack of American cheese slices. They made birthday cards for Liz, using an inkstamp on the paper, the table, and their hands, and decorated their faces with markers. They experimented with pouring a bag of popcorn on the floor and kicking it around. They made "snow" in the sunroom out of a large block of styrofoam, which is evidently impervious to being swept up or vacuumed.
Lucky for them and me, I am not such the housekeeper and find their antics amusing, for the most part, unless those antics involve throwing Hot Wheels cars high into the air in my general direction.
Tomorrow, I think I will give them my laptop and hide under the bed.