Dropped my 5 1/2 month-old and 22-month old children Skyler and Arielle off at daycare today - scrambling as usuual just to get everyone out the door and am finding myself iMersed in finally loading the iPod my husband bought me for my birthday in March. I postphoned opening the box containing the iPOD because I knew that it would be a time-suck I really don't have at the moment.
I suddenly find myself importing my Sex Pistols: Live in Trondheim July 21, 1977 CD into iTunes before the import into the iPOD, having convinced myself I'm merely multi-tasking while the marmoleum floor is drying in the kitchen that I so aptly washed myself into a corner near the iMAC.
Contemporary Mom Caricature: Browsing through a Pottery Barn Catalog while Sid screams "God Save The Queen" from the Bose speakers attached to the iMAC, eating the South Beach Diet dessert, "Mocha Ricotta Creme."
Getting stoked for a run with the new iPOD. It might be a bit overwhelming, after all, I ran with the same "Creedence Clearwater Revival" cassette in my SONY Walkman for over two years -- that's running almost everyday while training for a marathon before I found out I was pregnant with Skyler in December 2001.
Odd inspiration for pulling the iPOD out of the box, the Sunday New York Times had a spoof of an image of the iPOD ad - play on the fuchsia background with the black silhouette wearing the white iPOD headphones. Except the image wasn't of a hip dancing chick sporting an iPOD, but the icon of the Abu Ghraib prison scandal wearing a black hood, standing on a box and attached to wires.
While I found this image to be both a chilling reminder of the screwed up situation we're in in Iraq, I also thought it was a brilliant iconographic statement. It also reminded me that I have this damn iPOD sitting in a box for months.
Here I am blogging for the first time in two years, loading my tunes and feeling oddly spiritual about this little piece of technology that's temporarily transporting me from present 2004 horror in IRAQ back to my more youthful and innocent days of listening the SeX Pistols, Prince's "Purple Rain", Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side" - as the CD's piled up next to me will attest. They too sit on deck waiting to be loaded into the iMAC for their transformation into iPOD tunes - they time travel with me today. Today I am not a mother. I am not living in a world where George Bush is President. I am transported.