Worthy of Worry

A conversation recently overheard in the Bear Household....

Brother Bear: Mooooom, I'm sorry!  Very sorry!

Mama Bear: WHY are you sorry, Brother Bear?

Brother Bear: But, don't worry mom!

Mama Bear: WHY are you sorry and WHY shouldn't I worry?

Brother Bear: Well, I sort of accidentally pooped in my underwear and on the dining room floor.  But don't worry!  the dog ate it, so it's all cleaned up!

"Who? ME?"

I hate you Facebook - don't leave me!

Am I the only one that has a hate/love (yes, I know I said it backwards) relationship with Facebook?  I’ve been trying to break up with it for months now, but it seems I just can’t make a clean break.  It’s like a bag of potato chips I opened because I just wanted a snack.  A handful down and I should be done, right?  Oh, but that salty goodness, I’ll just have another handful, well, make that 2 more handfuls.  My hunger is now satisfied, but I keep pressing on.  Suddenly, I find myself licking the salt from my fingers, wondering how in the world I ate the whole bag when I wasn’t even really hungry, and totally HATING the potato chips for ever making me want them in the first place.  That’s how I feel about Facebook.

I mean, on one hand, I’ve really enjoyed catching up with some long-lost friends.  From grade school, high school, college, I’ve reconnected with people I’d long since lost.  I’ve seen pictures of their new lives, shared laughs about old times and generally enjoyed catching up.  Pretty cool, right?  What a neat technology available to the masses.  The future is here, and its name is Facebook ladies and gentlemen!

But then there is the dark side of Facebook.  Let’s start with the status updates.  All day long I’m thinking up status updates.  “Paula just went to the grocery store, bought milk, eggs and a completely off-her-diet, but oh-so-delightful reeses peanut butter cup”.  Does anyone really care?  Of course, ever the over achiever, my mind is constantly trying to come up with intelligent, witty, comments that will wow my closest 249 friends.  Really?  Perhaps I have better things to do?

Then there is the “flashback to high school/college” phenomenon part of Facebook that I’m certain is going to get me put on medication.  I don’t know about you, but – at the time – high school/college days weren’t really the best days of my life.  Not that I was miserable every day or anything.  But high school and college never really brought out the best in any of us now, did it?  Facebook has, unfortunately, time warped me back to the 90s and the only thing I want back from that era is my size 6 body.  I find myself wanting to know why I have to ask the cool kid to be my friend.  Why can’t HE/SHE ask me?  Or, why are all my classmates friends with my older (and much cooler) brother?  The only good thing Facebook has done for my pitiful pubescent self esteem is confirm why I could never get my high school crush to show any interest in me.  Turns out he’s gay.  Ah ha!  A year’s worth of therapy solved in a matter of seconds on Facebook. 

And I don’t even have time to get into the really weird parts of Facebook.  Quizzes like, “What Golden Girl Character Are You?”, or “25 Random Things about You”, “Pieces of Flair”, and “poking” someone.  Huh?  There’s so much weirdness, I’m truly overwhelmed by it. 

So, I’m at an impasse.  A moral quandary.  A veritable tete a tete with myself.  Do I overlook the bad in order to reconnect with some great old friends, OR do I walk away from this absurd technology to save my sanity (not to mention my precious time)?  I think I know the answer. I’ll get to it…really…I promise.. 

Right after I update my status.  

Welcome to Four Bears in the Bed....tales of humor and life.

I started this blog at the encouragement of my husband, Papa Bear,  and a dear Bear Friend. Apparently, they think I might have some entertaining things to say.  I'm not so sure.  Address all complaints to them.  

I hope you enjoy this blog.  Maybe occasionally get something out of it.  But most of all, I hope that when you leave this site, you have laughed.  Out loud.  Perhaps I'm setting my sights too high. But life tends to throw my household some funny curves, so this site is here to share those stories/thoughts/opinions/poems/pictures/etc. with the general public.  While I've had my share of speed bumps in life, I'm lucky to have a generally great life, great Bear Family and a crowd of Bear Friends who keep me laughing and loving life. 

I know what you really want to know though.  

"How in the world did you come up with that title?"

I'll tell you....

Recently, Sugar Bear (my youngest) awakened from hibernation screaming her little lungs out.  Papa Bear tried every trick to soothe her back to sleep, but was unsuccessful.  I relieved Papa Bear and tried my own soothing-without-picking-baby-up-from-crib-lest-she-become-spoiled-like-the-books-say-she-will tricks.  Nothing worked.  I finally picked her up, at which point I realized she was wet.  soaking wet.  Surprised by the degree of soakedness, I felt the crib.  It too was soaking wet.  (note to self:  in a.m., check other diapers for rips, tears, other malfunctions).  This, I could solve.  I turned on the smallest of lamps and placed Sugar Bear on the changing table.  I unzipped her pajamas, and lo and behold, discovered our problem.  It seems that in the scurry to get Brother Bear and Sugar Bear off to sleepy-town, Papa Bear had forgotten to put a diaper on after her bath. 

Oops!  (growl...)

One dry diaper and new set of pajamas later, I brought Sugar Bear to bed with us (as, remember, her crib is soaking wet and it is the middle of the night.)  We settle into bed and, after wrangling my nose from Sugar Bear's claws, I begin to drift off...  

In the distance I hear...

"Mama."  "Mama!"  "MAMA!!"  I open my eyes to see Brother Bear (my eldest) standing by my bedside.  It seems he's had a bad dream and wants to sleep with us.  Lusting for some proper shut-eye before the alarm goes off, I scoop Brother Bear into our queen sized bed and snuggle him up between myself, Sister Bear, and Papa Bear. (I used to be one of those moms who swore my kids would never sleep in bed with me.  Then I got too darn tired.)  Everyone quickly falls back to sleep. 

Except me.  I have inches of space, and in order to not to roll over and smother one of my precious cubs, I'm contorted and tense.  Plus, Brother Bear has one leg over my legs and his fist in my mouth.  The sound of Sugar Bear sucking on her pacifier is deafening.  But not nearly as loud as Papa Bear's snoring.  

So, as I'm laying there contemplating my wisdom in having children, this song starts dancing through my head:  

"Four Bears in the Bed

And the little one said,

'I'm crowded, roll over'"

I sing the song in my head until the very end:  

"One bear in the bed

and the little one said,

'I'm lonely!'"

Unfortunately, at this moment, I'm neither lonely or alone.  I'm just crowded and exhausted.  I realize - a little to late - that I'm yelling, "everyone STOP TOUCHING ME!"  At which point, Papa Bear vacates the bed and leaves a little more room for the 2 little bears and me to return to hibernation.  

And that, my friends, is how I landed on the title for this blog.  (Added bonuses are:  it plays off our family name, and our little girl's nickname).

So, thanks for visiting.  Enjoy reading.  Laugh a little.  

Or a lot.

Out loud....