When the baby was a few months old, it took a five second lapse in concentration for my oldest, then a mere toddler, to drown my beloved iPhone in her water-filled activity table.
I was pretty annoyed about that, as you can imagine.
Not least with myself because usually if I’m not watching her it’s because I’m staring at my phone so how I managed to miss this happening I have no idea.
It gave me a scare because I’d had that phone for over a year and it contained so many memories.
Photos of her brother the day he was born, my bump as it had grown throughout my second pregnancy, photos and videos of my oldest growing from a little baby into a confident technology-trashing toddler, and lots of text messages from Domino’s Pizza.
Fortunately, with the help of Google and a Tupperware box full of rice, I managed to salvage the photos and the memories, although alas, the phone itself was unusable.
It was an expensive lesson, as I didn’t have insurance or anything. I didn’t even buy any, thinking that it would surely be a one off – I had been a mobile phone user for 20 years almost and had never so much as scratched a phone before.
However it was to be but the first in a catalogue of mobile phone and technology related catastrophes to befall us over the next year or so.
Seriously, you would think I would learn or something.
Next was to be my beloved iPad, dropped on the floor of the hospital by my daughter from her sickbed.
My dear old dad did an excellent job of repairing it, thankfully, although there is a speck of dust trapped under the new screen which will never not annoy me.
This was to be followed less than two weeks later by my Sony Xperia, which having just had a smashed screen shoddily repaired at ridiculous cost, was thrown in a rage by an angry child (I can’t even remember which one) and instantly smashed again.
A week or so later, this was replaced by a new phone (a Huawei I believe) which served me well for over a year, until I went out, had a few glasses of wine (or perhaps a few too many) and left it in the back of an Uber.
I didn’t just drop it; no.
Far more embarrassing than that, I had been to an event where they had fake foam iPhones; at the end of the evening I had procured one to give to my children thinking it would be fun and stop them from stealing mine.
On exiting the taxi, I tapped my pocket, registered that there was a phone shaped object inside it and ran into Charing Cross station just in time to realise my idiocy, but obviously being unable to contact anyone to help.
Admittedly, aside from their part in making me more sleep deprived than a functioning human should be, the kids had absolutely nothing to do with that one.
I was really fortunate not to be off-grid for too long, thanks to my friend Faith from Raising Moonbows who had just upgraded and sent me her old phone. It was perhaps a week or two tops that I felt like I was stuck in the 90s.
I want to say that I used that mobile-free time to rediscover my sense of self, hold meaningful conversations, appreciate my children, smell the roses etc etc but basically I just felt a bit lost and annoyed at myself for losing my phone, and still not having bought mobile phone insurance.
This is a collaborative post.