I live in the screen, off the screen, through the screen. The fantasy self wanders in the televised world, solving crimes, learning about self-actualization. The fragmented self browses the “net”, if such a thing is possible, perhaps looking for holes. There has to be a hole in this net somewhere, if I look long enough I can get out.  He is spending time solving problems, taptap on the ds, small screen…. we depend on bright eye big screen for our budget and his net, browsing, looking for things, real things, to fill holes in our consumer life. Preferably free. Everything is on a list somewhere.

Rice Krispies gave us a “guitar hero” game, its a little toy with a screen, and buttons you push while you watch. And there are other, little screens, including the one i’m focussed on now. I taptap on my palm every day. Everything is on a list in my palm, somewhere.

I used to write things down on my flesh palm, smudged phone numbers and “buy bread”… now it’s a device with its own electromagnetic field. A very useful device. But another screen. At least all it tells me is what I already know.

The “net” has had me trapped, learning things for 1 second and forgetting them again. It’s a kind of informational ADD – tidbits and trivia and time wasters. There’s no actual value in it. It tells me what I don’t even want to know.

I broke the cycle the other day. I needed to know a word. I couldn’t bear to turn on another screen. So I got off my donkey and walked over to the dusty bookshelf. Yes, I did. And with my weak wrists I pulled out a volume titled “Oxford Shorter English Dictionary: M-Z”… and I turned pages (what a feeling)… until I found the word. And so many other words. When you’re trapped in the net you don’t see all the other options. You only see what you asked for. Here it was: Oneiric. Dream-like. Then I closed the onionskin pages and put the huge book back on the shelf between “Oxford Shorter English Dictionary: A-N” and “The Dictionary of Imaginary Places”. There are so many other options. It told me more than I wanted, like a gift.

the consumer frenzy of back to school resembles christmas. while my worth as a parent at christmastime is measured by my ability to turn out picture-perfect foodstuffs and to pile presents on family until their joyful smiles have faded into greedy grimaces, back to school implies a whole other value structure.

used to be that you got 1 new outfit for back to school, and if you were lucky, some neat erasers shaped like snoopy and a nice pencil instead of the yellow HB. Maybe a pencil sharpener, too.  I always wanted a brand name lunch kit from thermos but i went home for lunch, so my desires were never satisfied.

Now as a parent i see the intense consumerist pressure around back to school startingeasily a month, two months in advance. No sooner are the kids on vacation than the advertisers want parents to think about the kids going back to school. And the kids need to be kitted out.  We wonder why we have problems with throwaway culture: convenience lunches and snack packs, juice boxes and pudding cups top my list. But also there’s the “must have a new backpack and insulated lead-free lunch bag” and the must have new wardrobe and the must have new coat and every item added to the must have list is another mark against not only myself as a parent for NOT providing such things, but also a silent cultural mark against my child’s future success. Or so it seems.

It’s all a lie. Giving my kids 1 gift for christmas wouldn’t make me any less loving a parent than if i gave them 20. Having my daughter use the same backpack for 4 years doesn’t make her any more or less popular, and the kind of pencil you use has no bearing on your ability to do math.  But still, this year I feel woefully unprepared. I feel that there are things we should have bought, but I wonder, is the “should” real or is it an advertiser’s creation? what do they really need?

A good night’s sleep, health, something nutritious for lunch, love, and clothes and accessories that are both clean and in reasonably good condition. That’s all, yet somehow, a simple list makes it seem incomplete.

Here’s something I never want to do again: driving from the doctor’s with the bigger little one in the back of the van, holding a piece of paper in my hands. Not driving home. Driving to emerg with a list of possible reasons-why.

The second doctor to examine her gave me a list of what needed to be done: bloodwork, urine sample, chest x-ray. Something serious, something that needed urgent attention.

I’m in the car staring out as we drive to the ER and hearing her repeat “we are not in a t.u.m.o.r. situation here. Those childrens have long-term fevers too but they are low-grade for a long time.” things I never wanted to think about.

The list says “Addenovirus. Pneumonia. Kawasaki. Strep. UTI.” All the things that could be wrong, that needed attention. She called the ER for us so they would expect us. The ER gave us a room. The little-bigger one was too pale and weak to care about anything but her own terror. They might stick her with needles. They might do something to hurt her. There might be something wrong.

They sent us home 5 hours later, a boost of antibiotics. She’s got a UTI and will still fever for 4 days but antibiotics should clear it up. She will be ok. There is a burst of relief, a huge smile. Thank god it’s “only that”.

Now if I can just do something to get the list out of my mind.