Alright.  So I get the point, ok?  I know that I’m hopelessly addicted to technology.  I know that, specifically, I have a pretty major issue with my unhealthy love affair with my iPhone.  I feel ridiculously guilty now that I’ve read that studies show that our dependence on technology is changing our brain chemistry and giving us all ADD.  Fine.  I’ll chill out on the iPhone and find ways to keep my children from becoming examples of technology-addicted lumps of flesh.  Cool.

And now, this morning, I’ve been forced into an iPhone fast in the cruelest way imaginable.

See, we’re having one of those weeks in which I can’t get anything done around the house because Ashleigh is a bit clingy.  I go into the kitchen to do the dishes, and five seconds later, she’s under my feet, clinging to my legs, wanting me to hold her.  I give her a toy, forget about the dishes, run upstairs to take a load out of the dryer, come back down to start dinner, and she’s pulled all the pots and pans out of the cabinet.  My life is ADD enough having a toddler; couple that with an iPhone addiction and unconsciously stopping to check my email/Twitter/Facebook/Hotair.com for the gazillionth time, and I’m getting NOTHING done!

And then I sit down at night and bemoan the fact that my house isn’t as tidy as I had planned on it being that morning.

So this morning, I was beginning my morning clean-up while Ashleigh was temporarily distracted by Elmo.  I got one dish in the dishwasher, and in she came, wanting to be held.  My enterprising brain, which had already determined to get the house clean today at all costs, came up with a brilliant plan:  give Ashleigh the iPhone so she could play with her “Old MacDonald” app, I’ll get the dishes done, and won’t be able to run to my otherwise occupied phone every 30 seconds.

It was all fun and games until I turned around a few minutes later to see Ashleigh, who has a weird fascination already with the cat food bowl, standing over the water dish and staring at her “Old MacDonald” game as it played… underwater.  Yeah.  She went there.  Iphone got a bath.

Horror!  I pulled it out.  David grabbed it and toweled it off as I ran upstairs to get the hairdryer.  I dried it on cold in the headphone jack and charge port, and then yanked a bag of rice out of the pantry and promptly placed my beautiful, 3-month-old, now voided-warrantied phone, into a tupperware coffin of Mahatma brown rice and closed the lid.

This is supposed to work, so I’ll let you know in 24 hours how it all pans out.

(In the meantime, have I gotten more housework done?  No.  I’m on my laptop.  Blogging. But hey, blogging is one of the things I’ve been neglecting lately, so that’s something, right?)

Ahem.  I must go.  The house awaits.

Part two tomorrow.