So yesterday my husband, who I love more than anything, vacuumed the house, mopped the floor and then walked into my office and said “Let’s go get you a new Mac desktop.” After I slapped myself across the cheek and then pinched my thigh really hard to make sure I was awake, I said “Don’t be silly. I don’t need a new desktop. Mine is perfectly fine.”
“Ok”, he says, shrugging his shoulders as he walked out of my office.
I try to go back to work but I can’t think straight. The thought of having a new shiny iMac sitting on my desk is now out there. I wasn’t thinking of it five minutes ago but suddenly I want it as much as I want to breathe. You see, I drank the Apple Koolaid about eight years ago and now lust after all things with an ‘i’ in front of it. As a matter of fact, if my husband changed his name to iBill, he might get lucky more often.
I decide to check in with the ladies on Twitter. Hoping against hope that someone will talk me off the ledge, but they’re no help. It’s like having an AA meeting at a bar going to Twitter. Of course these women are no help. They’re all addicted to technology as much as I am. Wrong, wrong place to go. I walk away from the office and try to think of something else. I last all of five minutes.
“OK, let’s go get it”, I say. I am a rock. A rock I tell you.
I bring my new baby home and as usual it’s just so easy. All my information transfers over the the new desktop with a few easy steps. This is why I love Apple. As much as I love shiny new technology, thinking about how it all works makes my head hurt. I actually don’t want to think about it, I just want it to work. Every single Apple product requires me to turn it on and start using it. That’s all. I can do that!
I wish everything in life was that easy. I want iChildren and iCars. I want an iDog. Actually, scratch that I want an iBody for pete’s sake. Sleek, attractive and immune to viruses. *Sigh* I know, I know, I live in an iDream.
So, now it sits on my desk, in all it’s Appletastic glory. Angels are singing on high, at least in my head. I marvel at it's 27 inches of pure beauty and can now confirm that size does matter. I look around at my Mac toys and smile. I shut my new love off and leave the iPad behind for a change.
Time for bed and to show iBill a little iLove.
I have Bieber fever. I like the Biebs. I’m a Belieber. Now go ahead and get it out of your system. When you are done laughing your ass off come back and read the rest of my blog, or not. I mean if you can’t stomach the thought of more Bieber hype than this probably isn’t the read for you. I, for one, have never had a problem with the kid. I like his songs and I’m not ashamed to admit that Baby, Baby, Baby is on my workout playlist.
My oldest daughter first caught on to Bieber last year and my youngest followed shortly behind. Who was I to discourage? For starters, I didn’t have to reach to change the radio station because his stuff is too racy and honestly, I just wanted to bring him home and feed him a home-cooked meal. Have you seen that smile? Charming. Those puppy dogs eyes. Adorable. Sorry, getting lost in the Biebs again. Moving on.
Anyway, the eight year old recently decided that JB was no longer her type. It would seem she’s jumped on the anti-belieber wagon with her friends. Although, I suspect if she met Justin she’d be a quivering mess of tween hysterics. Of course, that would be if she could get past her mother. Anyway, this recent shift of allegiance saddened me, but I still had the six year old and damn it, she was my ticket to see the movie. Oh sure, I pretended it was all for her. You know, the whole “the lengths I’ll go to for my child” act.
So was the movie any good? Well, I know I’m stepping into Kelli’s territory here, but hell yeah it was good. I spent the entire movie grinning, watching either the screen or my six year old's delighted face. Nothing better than a little girl giggling at Snoop Dog recommending Bieber get some braids to draw the girls. It’s fair to say that both our cheeks hurt from smiling when we left.
So, first, I have to give props to his mom. She has raised a great kid. Not once, did he come across as a pretentious ass in this movie. In fact, I’ve not seen him act like a jerk in any media footage. His most endearing quality in my opinion is gratitude. It is so sincere that maybe, just maybe, even the cynics might be swayed.
He’s a good Canadian kid, who has strong friendships, a loving mother and doting grandparents. There was a part in the movie, where the grandfather was talking about Justin moving from Stratford and he got all choked up and I was right there with him. Justin’s grandparents reminded me of my children’s grandparents. Total support coupled with unconditional love. He’s a lucky guy to know such love. I’m sure it’s part of why he’s so successful.
The other reason he’s so successful. Talent. That’s all there is to it. You can naysay all you want but he does have natural talent. He can play the drums, piano, guitar and sing like nobody’s business. Add to that, an instinctual will to succeed and you get one of the most successful acts of all time.
I’m not going to sit here and predict the future of the Biebs. I hope, he finds even greater success. Truly. There is a chance though that he might burn out or go down the wrong path. Sadly, we’ve seen it happen many times before. Here’s what I don’t get though. He hasn’t. So far, he’s a fairly grounded kid dealing with unfathomable fame and fortune better than most. I don’t know why people think respect has to be given to those of a certain age or stature, but for the record, Justin Bieber has mine and so does his mom. Good job.
My only hope is that my youngest remains a Belieber until we can see him in concert. Otherwise, I’m going to feel pretty silly going alone.
Valentine’s Day in our house is focused solely on our girls. Each year my husband buys them roses, one for each year we’ve been lucky enough to have them. We take a picture and it’s fun to look at them over the last several years starting with my oldest when she was only 2 1/2 months old with her Daddy and one pink rose. This year, she’ll get 9! We joke that eventually this little tradition is going to get pretty expensive. We may have to cap it at a dozen roses.
When it comes to me though, I put my foot down and tell my husband to not waste a dime on me on Valentine’s Day because you pay three times as much for roses and I’m not a big chocolate fan. Do I secretly wish he’d express his love some other way? Why of course I do. As much as I think Valentine’s is an incredibly commercialized holiday, I still think making a point of expressing your love can never be wrong. It doesn’t have to come from a store necessarily, but whatever it is, it has to be sincere and have genuine thought put behind it.
Despite the fact that florists and chocolatiers put the hard sell on for their products this time of year, it doesn’t top the list of what we really want. Here are just a few ideas from a informal poll I conducted:
Chore Porn - yup the original Yummy Mummy suggested this one herself and you know I see the allure of this. Guys, seriously, if you want your wife to fall all over you, clean the house.....to her standards....and wait for the fireworks.
Champagne. I’ll admit the thought of this one is nice. Add some chocolate covered strawberries, some candles, an early bedtime for the kids and you’ve got a romantic getaway in your living room.
iPad. Ok, I know, not traditional at all, but some of us mummies are hooked on tech and if you want to get us hot, give us the latest and greatest in technology and we’re putty in your hands.
Cards. Surprisingly this one came up a lot. Men will want to be careful here and not just pick up the first one they see. The words are what’s important. So if your amour is more Elizabeth Barrett Browning than Chelsea Handler, make sure the card reflects that.
Books. I like this one, because it means that your husband has to be paying attention to conversations you have. If he can go out and pick up a book you mentioned three months ago, he deserves some serious love reward.
I don’t want this blog to end here though because it’s meant to be a public service. What do you really want? Add it in the comments and then post it on your husband’s Facebook page, or send it to his email. Print it off and put it between the pages of the Auto Trader. For heaven’s sakes don’t let the marketing companies tell him what you want.
Gotta go send this to my husband now. Happy Valentine’s Day!
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