Contrary to popular belief, Gail and I are not complete luddites. OK, that’s sort of a lie, but I in particular do lots of technological computer work during the day, and prefer to keep my interaction with gadgets to a minimum at home to balance.

Case in point: we didn’t get cell phones until Leigh started daycare at 15 months, and the ones we got are prepaid and we hardly ever use them.

Last night, I remembered why I never wanted a cell phone in the first place. It requires caretaking. I have to think about this thing every morning, carry it with me, not lose it, and here’s the clincher, keep it charged. In the middle of the night, a cell phone starts peeping plaintively from the living room every 15 minutes or so, letting us know it was almost out of batteries. OK. Fine. You need a charge. There are good reasons to be up in the middle of the night. Let’s see, newborn care, a sick toddler, peeing 40,000 times because I’m pregnant, but taking care of a whiny cell phone is NOT a good reason to get dragged out of bed.

Makes me want to chuck the damn things out the window, but I suppose that would be the day there was a real emergency at day care.