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Reluctant Mother v Husband’s Cell Phone

I’m back.  I hope.  I don’t like taking breaks from blogging.  I find it’s very difficult to get back in the habit of routine posting after I’ve been away awhile.  Hopefully, the schedule will be more normal this week and you’ll get your full share of regularly scheduled snark.  Hopefully. . .

Today is my Husband’s birthday.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Chris!

I hope he has a good one.  He deserves it. . .

Mostly. . .

He does make me a bit nuts.

His most recent round of ridiculous involved his cell phone.

Way back on Valentine’s Day of 2010, being the romantics we are, we got all dressed up, went to the store and purchased ourselves brand new iPhones.  We spent the remainder of the evening at home texting one another from two different levels of the house.  It was magical.

I believe these were the 3G phones.  And they worked really well for a long time.  Especially considering we soon used them without any sort of protective cases and we were continually dragging them around outdoors in all kinds of weather on hikes and so forth.

And although Apple rolled out new versions of the phone and we were frequently offered upgrades, we just stuck with what we had since they were still perfectly functional and let’s face it, ain’t NOBODY needs the technology to “Face Time.”  Seriously, have you ever turned that camera on yourself?  It’s NOT something you want anyone else to see.  EASCH!  What an unflattering angle!

My phone finally suffered enough abuse and just days before Christmas, we found ourselves at an AT&T store in an “emergency situation” getting a brand new iPhone.  At the time, I suggested Chris should just upgrade his phone too.  However, he insisted his worked well, he was fine with it and he’d get one once his phone stopped working.

Cell Phone Cracked

I could understand his rationale.  Neither of us are huge technology nerds.  If we have technology that’s working, we don’t typically rush out to get something new just because something newer is available.

Yet, we knew the days for Chris’ phone were numbered.  Our lifestyle and our two-year old are hard on things.  You need only look at my body for proof of that.

And sometime around Memorial Day, Mac dealt Chris’ phone what I felt certain was its final blow.  It didn’t seem to be working correctly.  The volume controls were inoperable.  The signal went in an out inexplicably.

I’d see Chris scowling at the screen.  Shaking the phone.

“Go get a new phone.  Let’s go do it NOW!”  I’d say to Chris.  “I’ll watch Mac.”

“No.  No.  I can make it work for a while longer.”  Chris responded stubbornly.

And then I’d catch him using one of my hair pins to wiggle and jiggle something on the phone to make it “operable” again.

He must have operated his phone with a bobby pin for at least a month.

We’d get in the car and need directions to some birding hotspot and I’d see him pull a bobby pin out of his pocket to assist him in getting directions off his phone.

This.  Made.  Me.  Nuts.

“That’s marvelous.  What if there’s an emergency?  What if you’re with Mac and something happens and heaven forbid you need to make an emergency call?  Then what?  You’re going to pull a bobby pin out of your pocket like freaking McGuyver?  What if you don’t have a bobby pin?  Then what?”

Chris would just chuckle and insist the phone was still completely operable.

“GET A NEW PHONE!” I’d practically scream at him.  “We aren’t that destitute!  We can afford a new phone!  You’re ridiculous!”

One afternoon after a particularly arduous day of hiking and family togetherness, Mac chucked the phone in a fit of frustration.

Chris and I looked at one another:  This was certainly the end of the phone.

I smiled to myself.  Finally, he’ll HAVE to get a new phone.

EXCEPT while Mac napped, and I prepared dinner, Chris came trotting into the kitchen all kinds of victorious.  “Funny thing, I did a restart on the phone and now it works better than before.  I don’t even need that hair pin anymore!”


I rolled my eyes at him and sighed heavily.  My frugal Husband might have won this battle but he certainly wasn’t going to win the war.

“That’s great honey.  But I REALLY wish you’d get a new phone.  It’s silly not to have a reliable phone these days.”

“This one is perfectly reliable.” He insisted while he raided my make-up kit for several bobby pins and a safety-pin – “just in case.”

Things when on like this for a few weeks.  Mac would hurl the phone and each time, I was certain that was the end.

BUT the thing was like a freaking cockroach:  It just would NOT die.

And then, one day, Chris proudly brought his phone to me to show me this “Really cool thing it was doing:”

Cell Phone Rainbow

And then I snatched the phone from him and clubbed him with it.

“GO GET A NEW PHONE!  I cannot stand the thought of you half dead in a ditch somewhere without the ability to call for help.  Do you want this display to be the last thing you ever see?!  What is wrong with you?!”

“I’m just going to restart it.  See what happens.” He shrugged.

I felt my cheeks flush.  He was making me batshit crazy with this phone.

But a few days later, something happened to the phone AGAIN.  I can’t quite recall what and I may or may not have been involved. . .

And THIS TIME, he said he was just going to walk to the drug store and see if they had “one of those little screw drivers” because he “read on the Internet you could fix the phone yourself if you had the correct screw driver.”

He came home empty-handed but not completely defeated, much to my dismay.  “I’m just going to see if my Dad has one of those little screwdrivers.”


What a sick bastard.

I told myself to stop being bothered by the phone.  But the truth was, he was making me feel guilty.  I KNEW somewhere in the sick recesses of his brain, he was putting off the new phone purchase simply because he didn’t want to spend the money.  And here I was dropping hundreds of dollars at Sherwin Williams for paint for the house, and Ikea for shelving, and to have my sewing machine repaired. . .because frankly, I’m not typically riddled with guilt about spending money. . .until he starts pulling shit like this. . .And then I am.  And then I’m a bitch.

So when he returned from his Parents’ without a screwdriver, I gave him an ultimatum.  He HAD to go get a new phone.  NOW.  He couldn’t wait any longer.  If he didn’t get a new phone, he was “choosing” his own serious consequences.

I packed him and Mac up and sent them a few blocks away to the AT&T store in Harbor East so I could continue painting.  What a relief!  FINALLY!  

“Well?” I asked anxiously when they returned.  “Let’s see what you got.”

“I didn’t get anything.” He said.

I’m pretty sure the litny of cursing that left my lips is still orbiting the Earth.

“What?  Why?”

“Because I’m not authorized on our account to make an upgrade.” He said.

Oh my word are you freaking kidding me?!  

After ALL that bullshit for the past how many months, in the end, you don’t have a new phone because the account was originally “mine” and you aren’t an authorized user?  It’s MY FAULT YOU DON’T HAVE A NEW PHONE?!


A quick phone call remedied the situation and the following day, Chris successfully procured himself a brand new iPhone complete with very fancy waterproof case.  (Cause you know, two year old).

And now I overhear him asking Siri things like “How do I get my son into Yale?” and “Why is my wife so gassy?”

And I kinda miss that broke down 3G. . .

Which by the way, he didn’t get rid of. . .I found it in his desk.

Cell phone desk

And yesterday, as we were chasing a painted bunting, he casually mentioned to me, “I still need that screw driver for my phone.”

“Why?” I asked with alarm.

“Because if I can get the phone to work again, I’ll get a discount off the purchase price of the new phone.”

He’s a tenacious mother. . .A sick, sick, tenacious, frugal, ridiculous, mother. . .and he’s all mine.


Maybe you’ll get a screwdriver for your birthday?