Those are generally the words I use to turf the the Boy Wonder off his DS. We’ve arrived at half an hour through a series of (almost) scientific experiments which focus on the ratio between time sat stationary staring at a screen and outpouring of potential energy upon shutting down. The shutting down process is always preceded by blood-curdling screams of “I’M SAVING IT!!!” and anything more than half an hour spent playing and he goes nuts….simples.
The same is true of the TV, although we can generally get away with the best part of an hour there before any one of the three kidlings turn into Chucky personified. Naturally I’d prefer it if they didn’t bother with the digital babysitters at all, maybe, actually I’m not sure I would as lots of the alternatives would involve noise and movement at times of the day that I’m not altogether equipped to cope.
Between 4.30 and 7pm is meltdown time around here, for me at any rate. Everyone is grouchy, hungry and anarchic and really all any us want to do is curl up on the sofa and smoozle. Sadly, in lieu of a housekeeper, I generally have to cook, they occasionally have to do homework, and we all have to muddle along towards the bedtime watershed. If I time it right, I can often grab half an hour to myself in front of the mac. It’s my rejuvenation time, those stolen moments are so much more precious than in the evening when I can rightfully lay claim to them. The fact that the children all now recognise Tweetdeck is nothing to be proud of, but in some small way it helps them recognise that their mother is more than an extension of their now shrivelled umbilical cord, to be reeled in when the mood suits.
Now there are those in this household who occasionally grumble about my social media addiction leanings. But generally we manage to agree that if it makes me happy then it makes him happy too. (Ok, that’s something of a fabrication, but my utility room is jam packed with dirty washing – it doesn’t need airing here too) However, it came as a surprise to me today to be told by a higher authority that I could ‘limit my consumption’….
That’s right, my mother called and suggested that I should maybe apply the half an hour rule to my blogging too. “BUT”, I cried, desperately trying to find a justification…. “I’m a MADS finalist”; “Yes”, she replied, “and you occasionally need to sleep too”. Harumph and grrrr, and she’s bloody right, I know she’s right, and I know she’ll read this and smile and then phone and tell me that she didn’t mean it in the way I wrote it, that she just thinks I need to be a little more ‘balanced’, and that I do seem to spend an awful lot of time blogging when I could be *ahem* working…
So, I will try. I will limit my writing to 30 minutes in the evening, and spend another 30 minutes reading and commenting, probably in a random fashion. I will try and achieve that balance. Until everyone forgets to keep watching me, and then like the Boy Wonder, they’ll find me crouched at my keyboard 10 hours later and, as they prise my fingers away, I’ll scream “I’m just saving it!………”.