A "Smart Phone" does not, in fact, make someone smart.

I miss the Harvest Gold rotary-dial phone hanging on the kitchen wall of my childhood.  I miss its long twisty cord that stretched all the way to the coat closet across the kitchen.  I miss curling up in those deep, dark closet depths, behind winter coats, smushed between bags of mittens and the yardstick, giggling about the latest Baby-Sitters Club book ("Can you believe that MaryAnne broke up with Logan?") or planning a sleepover ("We can definitely stay awake until 6am!  Who should we hypnotize?"). 

We had that phone forever and that old gold glorious phone never let me down. 

Unlike my cell phone, which gave up its will to live on Tuesday.  Just stopped.  I went an entire day without any communication with the outside world.  Not one text.  Not one phone call.  Finn and I lazed the day away, in relative seclusion, choosing to fill our time with naps and books and Olivia the Pig instead of venturing out to the phone store.  There were no last minute requests to bring home milk or eggs or hooch.  No constant beep of the text.  It was quiet...all day long.

Yesterday, however, I had to drive the baby to school in fresh, slushy snow without the security of a phone in case something happened and I realized just how much I depend on having that constant contact; the security of knowing that if I slip off the road, Uriah and AAA will be there post-haste.  I did not slip off of the road; I did, however, drive like a granny.  It took us 45 minutes to go 12 miles.  Awesome. 

During my lunch, I ponied up and purchased a smart phone, New Phone, I call her, and came to the glaring realization that a smart phone does not, in fact, make someone (read: me) smart.  Yes, I realize that there are instructions as to how to use New Phone, but when it is a struggle to figure out how to make a simple phone call, something is seriously wrong with my world.  Uriah, being a man, loves the challenge of new technology and spent some time last night figuring out New Phone and then telling me what it can and can't do (mostly, what it can do, which is everything but make dinner and change the baby's diaper.).

Today, as I struggle to make sense of New Phone, I find myself wishing for simpler times.  A gold rotatory-dial phone, a roast in the oven because it's Thursday, a new Baby-Sitters Club Special Edition from the book-order.  I find myself wishing for the creature comforts of childhood: chocolate chip cookies after school, the smell of clean sheets on my bed and a reassuring hug from my Mama that this, too, shall pass.  Because I'm a grown-up now, I will have to make due with a phone call this evening, instead of a hug. 

But first I have to figure out how to dial...