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Never Enough Apples

November 14, 2010

Oh, the tears are a-flowin’.

Every time I talk to others about the amount of technology in our family, I feel like we’re a bunch of spoiled brats.  I have friends who have a single desktop computer in a common living area, and all family members are used to sharing.  Others where the kids have a computer, and the adults have a computer.  But not us.  We do not share.

We all have our own laptops.

It wasn’t always this way.  For most of my parenting life, we did have one computer.  The kids occasionally had their turns to goof around with a CD-Rom, or peck out an email to a grandparent.

Then law school happened, and I *needed* a laptop.  (No, really.  That’s not sarcasm.)

So I had a laptop, and they all shared a desk top.

But then Lemon ended up all … creative.  And ambitious.  With her friends.  In 4th grade, they started a newspaper.  This required her to write articles, and to email them to the group.  This continued into 5th grade, while her homework was also increasingly requiring computer use.  So when she hit 6th grade, she got her own lap top.

Then WD went to school.  And he *needed* a laptop.

So Mouse was left with the desktop while the rest of us had laptops.

And then she went to 6th grade, and precedent had to be followed (such a lawyer …and a push over).  At least I can vindicate myself by saying both of their laptops were contingent on straight A’s.

And the desire to keep their grubby paws off my computer.

Now mine and Lemon’s computers are getting old.  I bought mine when I was a summer associate (2006?), and Lemon’s came that fall.

I think they’ve held up well, for the most part.  Hers is dirty.  (No fault of Apple’s.)  Soemtimes, my screen goes blank.

But lately – Lemon’s spacebar has been sticking.  It was bad enough a couple weeks ago that she asked me if we could go to the Genius Bar. We talked about her bringing her computer to my work (beautiful Apple store across the street now), and us having lunch together on Veteran’s Day.

But then WD looked at the mechanics of the spacebar, and “fixed” it.

For at least a week.

Then today happened.

Today.

I got up at 7 and went to the office.  I cleaned my desk and did some work.  Then I came home, and took Lemon shopping.*

In the meantime, Mouse was at her second birthday party of the weekend — this one a sleepover.

We all had projects to work on this weekend.  I think we all managed to put them off.

So when Lemon came to me at 5 p.m., as I was just settling in, post-shopping-trip, post check-in with WD, to tell me that she needed my computer?

Uh, no.

Then there were tears.  And frustration.  And delays in getting things done.

Her spacebar is a mess.  I don’t know how to reconnect it.

Fortunately, Mouse had less work to do than anyone else, and was too exhausted to do it all (due Friday).  Therefore, she pitched a fit and cried uncle at, oh, say – 6:30?  Then Lemon was able to use her computer, and WD and I were able to continue the work on our respective projects, with only the interruptions needed to wipe tears and referree negotiations between a tween and a teen about privacy and closed windows and not snooping on one another while borrowing computers.

In other words … we were interrupted.

But it’s 9:40 p.m. right now (I started drafting this post at 5:10, by the way), and I’m done.  Mouse is in bed.  Lemon accepted my grammatical edits (miracle of all of the miracles) and is implementing them, and WD and I are watching the Pats.

We’ve made it through to peace.

Who knows when we’ll fix that f’ing space bar, though.

 

 

* That didn’t work out so well.  She wanted boots.  Black high boots to wear over her skinny jeans.  She found mine one day, as I had previously mentioned, and decided she needed some.  The ones she chose sold out in her size before I bought them (the story of my life – remember the trip to London?), so we went shopping.  Problem is her SIZE isn’t her SIZE.  Her feet?  Size 9.  Her calves?  Like, 6 inches around.  If that.  So any size 9 boots are GAPING at the calf, and reaches her knee.  Thankfully, she’s not interested in getting something new just for the sake of something new, and was discerning in her decision-making (and not forcing me to come in to trump her decision-making). Poor kid.  14 is not an easy age.  Big feet, skinny legs (something I can’t imagine), and confusion about style.

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