My Super Mom Kryptonite

After two kids, a twenty six+ year reign in marriage, a massively apple-cart-upsetting job change and countless other life dramas, I really feel like I should own a hypothetical black belt in the art of “rolling with the punches.”

Is my car suddenly DOA as I struggle to get two kids to school on time, in two different places? That will be NO PROBLEMO thanks to my Ninja-like speed dial skills and vast mommy connections.

Wait, did I just pop a run in my nylons the size of the Grand Canyon right as I am walking out the door to The Big Event with no time to change, and no spare pair even if I did have time to change? Easy-Peasey-Lemon Squeezey, baby. I will rock my fab dress with black leggings and look damn amazing doing it.

Although I’d like to keep the myth alive that very little will breaka ma stride, there is one thing that will take the wind out of my sails and leave me curled up in a corner bawling like a newborn. That "something” is any issues/malfunctions with anything tech related.

Now, I am not an unsmart woman. I’d like to think that due to the half-century I’ve been on this earth, that I’ve learned a thing or two. I’m raising two kids, I’ve buried a parent and I can milk a goat and shoot a nail gun like nobody’s business. I’ve lived, I tell you!

But when it comes to problems with laptops, desktops, phones, tablets, TVs, VCRs, DVD players or even the timer on my stove, I am truly screwed. My brain turns to oatmeal, my blood pressure hits DEFCON5 and my patience leaves the building. Any cold, unemotional electronic device can reduce me to a sniveling pile of Human Jell-O in mere minutes. Malfunctioning technology is basically my Super Mom Kryptonite.

And here’s my main conundrum; when I worked outside of the home for The Man, all I had to do when an issue with my computer arose was call tech support. Now, as a self-employed small business owner, I am tech support. I am honestly getting rashy and flushed just thinking about that fact.

Recently, my computer router bit the bag leaving me high-and-dry and scratching my head as to what to do or who to call next. I quickly referred to my Business Master Action List that I’ve created (some people would call it a goal list) and note that #4 on my To-do List this year is get My Own Personal Tech Guy.

Guy, gal, alien…who cares, I just need someone smarter than me who can fix this electronic crap when it comes unzipped. Unfortunately, I am only on #3 of achieving my goals for the year so I have not taken any steps to secure my #4 goal. There’s that rashy, flushed feeling again.

After several calls to my Internet provider I was given the ultimate diagnosis of dread: the problem was on my end, not theirs.

Dammit. I hate when that happens. Now I can’t blame in on someone else and pull my, “YOU fix it” card. Per the advice of the kindly person on the other end of the line who must sense I am as clueless as a man in the tampon aisle when it comes to technology, I waddle off to the Big Box electronics store to rustle up a Shiny New Router. Feeling smug that I’ve made it this far without having the mother of all meltdowns, I unbox my new treasure and begin doing something I am really unaccustomed to doing; reading directions. As I am reading and attempting to install said Shiny New Router, the Instructions from Hades tells me that I need connect a cable to a Modem.

Modem? So I have a modem? Do I need a modem? Modem sounds like some childhood ailment that involves lots of toilet paper and a trip to the doctor’s office. I admit it; I am stumped and resign myself to possibly never having Wi-Fi in my house again. Like the settlers.

As I wrestle this godforsaken router/modem conundrum, I really feel the urge ignore all of it and go back to using homing pigeons and smoke signals to conduct business. Mustering up the last ounce of sanity I have left, I pull a Who Wants to Be a Millionaire move and phone a Smart Friend for help. Lucky for me he takes my call, lowers my B.P. and guides me in breathing life into my deceased device.

If there was any sort of moral with this story, it would have to be something along the lines of “Know your strengths and admit your weakness.”

But I prefer something more earthy and authentic like, “Smart Friends are worth their weight in gold.”

My chink in my mompreneur armor is obviously a big one that I should NOT have ignored and I highly suggest getting a few Smart Friends on your roster ASAP.

Many Smart Friends will help without being paid, but I suggest compensating them heavily with alcohol, food and compliments; or as we say here in Minnesota, “Beer, brats and a lot of ‘thanks for saving my bacon…again.’”

If there ever was a cure for Kryptonite-itis, it would be the peeps in your support circle; the ones who have your back and are totally fine with swooping in to save the day. Smart Friends, I salute you!

Rebecca is a freelance writer and blogger living in Northern Minnesota. She is the dedicated mom to two beautiful kids, a veteran blogger at FranticMommy and someone who loves to laugh about the trials and tribulations of parenthood. If another mom reads her corny stories and thinks, “Thank gawd it’s not just me!”….mission accomplished. You can also follow Rebecca on Pinterest