The time has come. I’ve ignored it, reconsidered it, dreaded it, and prepared for it. Now I’m ready to stop talking about it.

To be clear, I’m not trying to start a revolution against the Internet. The Internet is great. I love the Internet. Thank God For The Internet.

I’ve just always wanted to unplug and let the weight of the silence move me to something. Maybe it sounds silly, maybe it will just move me to the couch to lie in despair with a box of Oreos, but at least it will be something new.

Am I already annoyed I’ll have to use an actual cookbook? Yes. Do I worry that on June 1st, I’ll log on and everyone will be talking in straight acronyms? Sort of. Mostly I’ll just miss you. I’ll miss the daily affirmation that we’re all here together; sharing our stories, laughing about postpartum poos, figuring out if it’s normal to blow your nose in the shower.

I will admit that at times I’ve looked forward to May; a hiatus from social networking and the daily fear that I’m the girl at the party still talking about herself. No one wants to be that girl.

Also, let’s not forget that it’s just a month. No need to be too dramatic (I’m talking to myself).

May Goals

Go one month without using the Internet.

May Fears

I will miss something awesome on The Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, or Instagram.

My brain will explode from unrelenting curiosity about what you are doing.

I will have to walk to the library to find out how to make buttermilk (and other things I always forget) instead of use The Google.

I will lose my connections.

I will lose my readers.

I will turn into one of those people who wrinkle up their nose and say, “What’s a Beiber?”

See you in June.

***

More details about the 2012 Project HERE

Recently Hacked

I went to the family salon and got my hairs cut.

Bad box color stripped, 6 inches off the bottom. I feel like a new woman.

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Recently On Instagram

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Recently Linked

Real Life Barbie Doll (Yikes)

My Kid’s Future (Austin insists on singing it often)

Polar Bear Doing A Handstand (Awesome)

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Recently On Repeat

Emmylou by First Aid Kit

Listen To It HERE

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Recently Delicious

Motley Mama’s (Easy!) Thai Curry Chicken

Ingredients

2-3 tablespoon vegetable oil
3 teaspoon curry paste
1 1/2-3 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breast meat – cut into pieces
1 onion, coarsely chopped
1 red bell pepper, cut into strips
2 cups coconut milk
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons fresh ginger
1 can bamboo shoots
1 can bean sprouts
1 package Thai Thin Rice Noodles
1 package snow or sugar peas

Directions

Heat the oil in a large skillet over high heat; heat the curry paste in the oil about 30 seconds. Add the chicken and cook another 3 minutes. Stir in all other ingredients; bring to a boil; cook until  chicken is cooked through. Serve hot over rice noodles topped with sauteed peas.

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Recently Awesome

Jimmy Fallon and Potus, Slow Jamming

Click here to view the embedded video.

(Thanks Suz)

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Recently In Need

of Book Recommendations.

Without Internet next month, I will probably be digesting a book a day just to stay sane.

My Must-Read List So Far

Bloom
Bringing Up Bebe
Heaven Is Here
Wicked
We Need To Talk About Kevin
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir)

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Recently Compared

Yours Truly, Truly Mine

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Recently Pinned

From my hero, Mary Oliver

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And finally, Waylon’s Month In Review

Click here to view the embedded video.

For A Fullscreen View, See Lower Right Box

Music By Johnnyswim

Watch On Vimeo Here

8

Happy Friday!

***

Previous Friday Snacks

In a few days I’ll be Internet free; free from Tweets about your lunch, Facebook pictures of your dog, Instagrams of your baby. Free from e-mails about what to bring to pot-lucks and if I’d like you to guest post about your growing business (no). Free from Goodreads and Pinterest, YouTube and Blogs. Free from discount books on Amazon and cats doing cartwheels on Huffington Post. Free.

I might die.

The truth is, I’m scared. Scared I’ll hate it and scared I’ll love it. Scared I’ll forget someone’s birthday or miss engagement news. Scared my inbox might explode.

Remember when my email inbox was at 97%? It got worse. This February, Gmail warned me it was going to shut my sorry butt down if I didn’t delete something.  99% and counting. Oops.

In preparation for May, I’ve spent months shaving down 20,700+ emails to the basics. You know, 19,000 or so.

It’s actually been kind of cathartic. First I went through all emails that had attachments (space hogs) and found all sorts of relics from the past; minutes from old board meetings, dramatic songs sent to friends, love poems, skinny pictures, homework emailed to professors with the subject “sorry it’s late,” and some excuse about ink.

I spent hours rereading those old college papers. They had titles like “Waking a Generation of Women: Kate Chopin’s The Awakening” and “From Neolithic to New York: Technology’s Triumphs and Turmoils in an Ever Changing World.” Flashback: I used to have brains in my head! I was one of those nerds who loved writing papers. Hate me now, but thank me later when I’m proofing your grad school essay.

After I went through all those emails, I did searches for wastes of space like alumni updates and shopping receipts and angsty emails sent to ex boyfriends. Those were a treat. I remember one in particular contained exactly 10 paragraphs describing how and why THIS. IS. OVER. Delete!

I also worked on unsubscribing from things like Josh Ritter’s newsletter, Ticketmaster, Sojourners, and updates from Twitter and Facebook. What was I thinking before? All this undue inbox maintenance was giving me ulcers.

Update: I am proud to report that I’m down to 58%, with only 27 emails in my inbox that need to be taken care of. Victory dance!

To Do

1) Print out my Google Calendar and hang it on the fridge like it’s 1990.

2) Make a list of books to check out from the library.

3) Alert my friend in Borneo that if she needs me, she’ll have to send up a smoke cloud.

4) Alert all my other friends and family that I’m not dead.

5) Break the news that I’m not pre-scheduling posts.

I’ve gotten a lot of advice on this Internet silence. Some of you said to stay quiet, others asked for some pre-scheduled posts. A few of you warned that a whole month without posting will lose all my readers. Some went as far as suggesting updates from Baby Daddy. That one made me laugh.

Here’s what I have to say about it: my gut says go big or go home. I can’t wait to tell you all about it in June.

***

More details about the 2012 Project HERE

Loves

Splashing in the toilet. Splashing in the bath. Splashing in a bowl of water out in the sunshine. Snuggling. Cuddling. Tackling. Nursing. Cheerios. Peas. Grapes. Yams. Anything on our plates. Iced Tea (oops!). Bugs. Dirt. Puppies. People. Cords. Stairs. Drawers. Cupboards. Crawling. Walking. Giggling. Pooping. Mirrors. Sticks. Balls. Cars. Music. Unfolding all of the wash.

Hates

Getting the nose snot sucked out of his nose. Being ignored.

10 Months With Waylon

Waylon, you are one funny kid. Lately you’ve been following me around like a dog. It’s like you’re pretending to be a an actual puppy. You paw at the ground, beg for food, chase balls, get into the toilet, lick things up off the floor. It’s gross.

When you’re not acting like a dog, you are trying to walk! Bless you, you try to so hard. Yesterday you took 7 steps for Aunt Kelly. She must be very motivating.

In other news, you are enormous. My back is breaking from picking you up all day long. I should count my lucky stars you are only in the 4th percentile for weight. 75th for height! You are going to be a giant. Don’t worry though, we’re probably stunting your growth with all the iced tea we give you. You’re welcome.

What else is new? You can say “ball!” Your first word after Mama and Dada. You have also come to terms with the vacuum cleaner, as long as you know it’s coming.

You can climb a whole flight of stairs, mostly supervised (some of us forget to latch the baby gate – not me).

You’ve also mastered putting your hands up when we ask “How big is Waylon?” and give high fives on demand.

Clapping is your favorite though. You do it when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you want up, when you want down. My favorite is when you see my milkers and you let out a happy shriek and a round of applause. It’s nice to feel appreciated.

Things I don’t want to forget: Your five toothed grin. Your open mouthed kisses. The way you shake your head back and forth whenever I start singing. Your cuddles with Daddy.

Two months away from being a year and I guess we’ll keep you. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

***

Nine Months

Eight Months

Seven Months

Six Month Stats

Five Month Stats

Four Month Stats

Three Month Stats

Two Month Stats

One Month Stats

*

I want to tell Waylon a lot of things. Mostly at night when I’m lying in bed, trying to put my mind on the back-burner. I think about his little life and how someday it will be big, with trips to the mall for sneakers and prom dates and soccer practice and college applications. I think about the mistakes I’ve made and the pitfalls I’ve avoided and wonder what I should say about it. I think about the day he asks me about sex and what’s divorce and why do people die. I think about the day someone offers him a beer and he’s only 16. I think about condoms and marijuana and Republicans. I search for the right words to explain it all and can’t find them, they aren’t there.

I turn over and thank my stars that, for now, all I have to worry about is diaper rash and stepping on an alphabet magnet.

*

Last night Austin and I stayed up talking. It was one of those conversations where you say how you actually feel about parenting, when you admit how terrifying it is. We spoke about our own parents, the good and the bad, what we want to emulate and what we want to leave behind. We spoke about our tendencies to overreact and to be unrelaxed. We admitted our shortcomings.

Some days I look at Waylon and can’t picture him even months from now. I can’t picture his toddler face or hear the words he’ll say. I can’t see the man he will become. Other days his life flashes before my eyes, playing in fast forward like a movie scene. I see his gangly legs and clean shaven face. I smell the fresh cut grass and hear the lawn mower chugging in the backyard. I feel my love grow.

It’s a funny thing, to be in charge of a life. We hold it like a robin’s egg even though it’s more like the bird itself; wild, independent, slowly slipping away.

***