The story that makes my students so embarrassed for me

I didn't have an e-mail address before college. Why would I have needed one? If I needed to invite a ton of people over to the beatnik party at my mom's basement, I could just call all those people. Which I did. Call all those people whose phone numbers I had memorized.  And then when my friend Dave recorded the beatnik sessions in my mom's basement, he just sent me the cassette tape of it in the mail. Not as an mp3 attachment. Also, we didn't have internet at my mom's house when I was in high school, so what was the point, anyway. It seemed to me that the kids who had internet at home, AOL, which was shortened from America Online (so cool), just frittered away all of their time in chat rooms with strangers who went by the name PeachFuzz234 or AussieBabe49. 1996. Life and times.

When I got to college, I got an e-mail address and would write the whole e-mail in the subject line. The vastness of the world wide web was skull-splitting for me. I watched as people could gamely conduct web searches and deduce what other movies certain stars had appeared in, rather just wondering for a few months if that was really Drew Barrymore as the little sister in E.T. and finally getting the movie out at the library and confirming, wow, yes, that really does appear to be a young Drew Barrymore.

That first semester of college, I bought a new desktop computer that occupied 75% of my desk. It took me roughly three weeks to assemble it and to get the internet hooked up and my friend Steve from the floor below visited my room daily just to make fun of my total grandma approach to technology. Hi Steve. Hugsies.

But by far, the moment that most crystallizes how I was a child who came of age just as the internet was emerging as our mainstream information source, it is this:

I walked down the hall to the bathroom and stopped short at the door of my hallmate Keira's room. The door was open and she and her roomie Kathy were cracking up about something, but what caught my attention was a piece of paper hanging from Kathy's bookshelf. On the paper was a picture of 3 marshmallow chicks peeps. It was clearly a print-out from your standard issue deskjet printer. But I just stood there, wondering how this got there, like they were harboring a bona fide unicorn in their dorm room. There was a picture of marshmallow peeps on a piece of paper. And Keira and Kathy had printed it out themselves.

My cognitions had ground to a halt.  I could not understand.

This was where the neurons started misfiring for me. Because, I understood how things got printed out of a printer from a computer, say, like from a word processing document. But how did the marshmallow peeps get into the computer and then get through the printer and onto paper? What did I get on my SATs? What? Why do you ask?

I asked Keira, How did you do that?

With a printer, she said.

I know, but how did you get the picture of the peeps? Did you take the picture?

No, I just found them on a website.

You found them on a ...

Then you printed them out and now there are marshmallows cut into bunny shapes dipped in sugar in a one-dimensional jpeg on a piece of recycled paper.

My world was never. Never. The same.

Lucky

There are two times when other people tell me I am lucky. The first is when I tell them that my husband and I "trade shifts" and don't have a full-time nanny with a British accent to rear our progeny when we are working outside the home.

The second is when I tell them that I don't have to pay taxes because I am too pretty for all that. "You're so lucky!" they cry, opposing finger and thumb propping up their jaws. I know, I demur, it's just that Uncle Sam and I have an understanding, you see...when you look this good, you are considered a natural treasure, you know?

 

But back to the part about my good fortune in picking a mate who is willing at times to stay home with at least one of our children while I go to work. Apparently, according to many, many people, this makes me lucky. ME. And I know this. I am lucky because I like my job and it is ever so much easier to teach a 90 minute class on interactive online journalism without two little talking turnips asking if I can help them with the Netflix again. I am lucky for that.

You know who else is lucky? My kids. They get loads of facetime with their daddy who enjoys rough-housing and playing a game called "trap challenge" of which my uptight introverted ways do not really permit me to engage in readily. They have a special rapport with their father and they have a strong attachment with both parents, which I've heard is a valuable thing to carry through this life full of hollowness and quagmires.

Oh, one more person is lucky, though! Guess who? Wow, you're good. It's true, my husband is lucky to be both a father who can spend quality time with his children and also do meaningful work outside the home. He did not have a father who was able to do this with his children. My husband tells everyone that he loves his time he loves going to the gym during the day, going grocery shopping when the aisles are not blocked by the rush hour crew.

We hear you, Universe. We are aware of our good luck in this arrangement.

Even though sometimes this arrangement stinks. The part no one remembers is that when you have two parents of young children "trading shifts," the two parents are rarely home TOGETHER. Together to have a fluid conversation, or a meal, or a hug. Or, you know. wink wink. Because you are flexing your hours in every which way, you are often working late into the night.

Trading shifts also requires that one parent is the "birthday party parent" or the "room parent" or the "family ambassador of all social gatherings" which is fine except when people do that nervous thing where they don't know what else to ask you at the birthday party so instead of saying, "Wow, it's GREAT to see YOU! How have YOU been?" they choose not to treat you like a whole person but only half of the whole and immediately charge into, "Heyyy, where's your husband?" Or your wife, as the case may be. That's annoying, isn't it? Even though you know it's not malintentioned. You know what I mean? You know what I mean.

This arrangement of the present is still infinitely better than the way we lived formerly in Boston where Loverpants held down 3 jobs and I had all these graduate classes and adjunct teachings and newborns to feed and toddlers to not loose in Target and--WOW, that life was cray.

What it all boils down to is that any person in this great wide world who has an even wider number of choices as to how to pursue his/her life as a parent or a pilot or a pizzamaker or a piano player or all of the above (at once!) is incredibly lucky.

To have choices makes one lucky. Also, having: an education, family supports, community resources, healthcare, and a number of well-fitting pairs of Spanx also make one especially lucky, as well. But that all is another conversation for another day.

For now, I consider myself lucky to call you a reader and friend.

Luckily yours, Kendra

RIP Bernie Macbook, Jr. #mac

Bernie MacBook Jr. passed away the evening of Sunday, January 6, 2014 in his home, surrounded by loved ones. MacBook Jr. is survived by his owners, the FamiLee. He is the son of the late Bernie MacBook Sr. MacBook Jr. arrived to the home of the FamiLee in Boston in 2010. He was adopted by the FamiLee through the Macintosh Refurbished program; his birth family remains unknown. As one of the first iterations of the MacBooks, he was proud to have served as a heavyweight champion of his class, crushing the likes of iPads and MacBook Airs. MacBook Jr. served in the U.S. Armed Forces against Malware and never retired from active duty. He earned his master's degree in Facebook and also scored three virtual golden trophies in the final round of Princess Enchantment Castle on GirlsGoGames.com. He served as a portal for countless awkward conversations with in-laws via Skype and his reserves for awkward family photo documentation were boundless. By far his crowning achievement was allowing Kendra to write her memoir, FamiLee on his software; MacBook Jr. will no doubt smile from Compooper Heaven once the book is published.

Many tears have been shed at the untimely demise of Bernie MacBook Jr.; the FamiLee is still experiencing great waves of grief. A quick scan of their web searches indicate the FamiLee is still soundly in the first stage of denial. Arrangements have not yet been made for MacBook Jr.'s burial. In lieu of flowers, please send Kendra a chai latte as she copes with the loss of her beloved Bernie MacBook Jr.

Chai Latte for Kendra