By allowing ads to appear on this site, you support the local businesses who, in turn, support great journalism.
Mommy Musings - Forced To Unplug
Placeholder Image

There should be a support group for people such as myself.

The sad thing is, in today’s day and age my fear is that the support group I’m seeking would either be: standing room only or everyone would prefer to attend via Skype.

Hi, my name is Teresa Hammond and I am technology dependent.

After four years of ‘smart’ phone dependence my worst fear was realized a water accident.

As I write this, I am still uncertain of the fate of my personal assistant, run tracker, key board, music player, telephone as it is currently sitting in rice.

The sad truth is I felt this coming. My luck has been truly amazing in the way of my iPhone and all that it has endured. I have never (nor will I ever) own an Otterbox or any type of ‘industrial’ looking cover. I have my own philosophy on these briefcases people wrap their phones in and rather than risk insulting our readers with my thoughts I’ll simply say … they’re just not my style.

Sure, I realize and recognize had I owned one of these genius covers I would actually be writing this listening to my iTunes playlist, but I’m good with my choice. I’m a planner. So, if the rice is unable to save my six month ‘new’ to me iPhone 4 then back to my iPhone 3 I will go (until my contract warrants a replacement).

Ironically, in the last few weeks I’ve been thinking and pondering when might be the appropriate time to ‘back-up’/sync my phone (as it’s been a while). True to the nature of my addiction my internal argument was when the timing would be appropriate to disconnect myself long enough to make this happen. Now, there’s just no choice. I’m stuck at a keyboard typing while listening to iHeart radio via the Internet. Oh, the tragedy of it all.

Equally pathetic, what I realize is that for every person who is reading this confession and shaking their head in judgment, there are two for each of you identifying with my pain and ‘remembering’ when.

Such a predicament, with little in the way of immediate solution.

To briefly recount the incident I accidently dropped my phone into a cup of water on my bedside table just prior to my alarm sounding to start the day. I had just finished (sleepily) reading a few e-mails, as darkness outside still loomed. As I heard the sound of the splash, my hope of course was that the cup had spilled and not the inevitable.

As I retrieved my phone quickly, I began CPR. Yes, iPhone CPR. I wiped it with my sheets, removed the cover, continued drying and shook it up and down. This is not a joke. This is addict behavior in its purest form.

Thankfully, it maintained limited capacity. I quickly confided in 350-plus of my closest friends (also known as Facebook) and asked for advice on rectifying the non-functioning pieces.

As I waited for the rest of the world to wake-up and ‘feel my pain,’ I began forwarding Contact info to my personal e-mail. Yes, simply put I jumped into survival mode.

Thankfully, earlier this year I had our phone restored with a landline. Yes, once known by many as a telephone. We have lived without a ‘traditional’ landline for three years plus. I was prompted to make the return due largely to two reasons.

In the event of an emergency if either of my children needed to make a phone call to a family member or God help us 911 they would first have to remember mommy’s pass code to get into her iPhone (aka appendage) and then proceed. Secondly and somewhat disturbingly, my duo had no idea how to hold a phone.

It’s a sad truth I had to come to grips with in the late fall as I watched them talk via speaker or blue tooth capability. When they were prompted to place the phone to their ear, they did so with quizzical behavior yelling at the little square box (my iPhone) the entire time.

So what’s the lesson here, really? Truthfully, I have no clue. I’m still reeling from the reality that many have suggested my phone must sit in that rice for 24 … yes, 24 hours. As a confessed addict the proposition of such a disconnect has me a bit breathless and somewhat anxious. Here’s to hoping rice is good for more than a tummy ache. God Bless rice farmers.


Teresa Hammond is circulation manager for The Oakdale Leader, The Riverbank News and The Escalon Times. She may be reached at or by calling 847-3021.