I recently spend a couple days with a bunch of journalists. And I was the only one without a laptop with me. I was the only one not checking my e-mail regularly. I was one of a few not tweeting.
Then yesterday and today, I worked at a media training. What happened during breaks? Coffee, cakes? Nope. The laptops went up.
Me? I had a rolled up New Yorker under the table and a baby spoon in my pocket. I am more likely to carry crackers, toys and baby food in my bag than a laptop.
Parental leave really is a stepping off, a slowing down, a disconnecting. Yes, I write for three outlets (including this one) and edit and such, but I do all that during the first half of Baby B’s nap or in the evening hour after we finish watching Biggest Loser and before we go to bed.
And I do not tweet. And I do not update Facebook. And I do not write my friends as much as I should.
I am predisposed to this life anyway. I came back from Croatia 12 long years ago suddenly unable to handle much screen time. I am not sure if it was “the war” or if it was the endless hours I spent playing Minesweeper in the office to avoid “the war.”
Whatever. It means I read more, though I wish on some level I could watch more TV after a day at work at the computer. Or that I did not have to often write longhand at night to avoid the computer.
On the other hand, sandboxes are good. Walking outside is good. Coffee with my wife is good.
Hmmm, does that fit in a tweet?