I hate the phone.

I hate talking on the phone.

I know. It's weird for me to say that, especially considering how HARD I fought with my father as a teenager, to get a phone jack in my room. And then when I finally got the jack hooked up, I plugged in my nifty, uber stylish clear phone with light-up ringing action, I was literally on that phone more often than I did anything else. I think I spent one entire summer watching One Life To Live with my cousin Johnica on the phone (30 miles away) while we discussed every last plotline to death. (This was during the era of a very young Ryan Phillippe playing a young gay teen. So dramatic.)

So for me to say I hate phones.....it's bold.

Bold.

But really, I do. I detest talking on the phone. And I am forever being prosecuted for feeling this way. My girlfriends all act like I am against my own gender. Like it is anti-femenism for me to prefer not to talk on the phone. Or like I am a horrible friend for not wanting to stop everything I am doing to sit and jibber jab on the phone for an hour. I feel like I am participating in something evil by preferring texts, email, and IM. Like I've given in to the man! I'm encouraging technology to control our lives!! Aaaaaaaahhhhh! Run! Run! The computers and robots are taking over!

Or worse yet: I am a crappy friend, and I do not care about or love my friends enough by not wanting to gab on the phone. Because I do not have time, nor do I have the desire, to hold a mother-freaking phone up to my head while I have pure chaos going on all around me, so that I can listen to: My girlfriends speak to me for 3 minutes, then focus on their kids, then speak to me, then yell at the dog, then speak to me, then load the dishwasher (loudly), then speak to me, then answer call waiting, then tell me that she'll call me right back, then hang up, then call  me back (4 days later), then yell at her kids, then speak to me, then cuss at the dog, then speak to me, then speak to her husband, then speak to me, then drop the phone, then speak to me, then put her kids on the damn phone AGAIN.....

Okay. Get real.

Let me lay it all out for you, real plain and simple: I do not like speaking on the phone. 

I do not like running from room to room to find a quiet place to talk, only to be found 6 minutes later, then chased to a different closet.

I do not like hearing my kids scream and wrestle and yell and practice piano while I am trying to talk.

I do not like whispering into the phone, because it's naptime, and if I wake up the kids, its over and there will be no nap to be had, and I am going to LOSE MY SH*T.

I do not like hearing my friend's kids. (I know, I know, I sound like a witch. And I'm sorry. And I realize that I pretend to be happy to hear them by saying things like, "Oh, is that little Billy? How sweet is he, screaming like that. What a doll." When what I am really thinking is: "Seriously, shut him up or I am going to lose it. Lock him in the closet. Make it stop. It makes me want to bang my head against a wall. OH DEAR GOD, don't put him on the phone! PLEASE! Oh NO NO NO.....oh, hello Billy! How are you? Can you put your mommy on? No? Put her on honey....PUT. HER. ON. THE. DAMN. PHONE." You get the picture.)

I have four kids of my own. Four. Do you really think that the sound of crying and screaming is pleasant to me? As if I don't hear it enough on my own? I mean...really? And when people say, "Oh, you probably just tune it out, huh?" I want to kick them. No. If I tuned it out, I would say so. So when I haven't said so, you can assume it is DRIVING ME INSANE.

I do not like awkward pauses. I realize that they happen and that we are close enough friends for them to be considered "comfortable silences", but they're not. I get a sudden case of Terrett's and I want to scream obscenities and make duck noises and sing the Battle Hymn of the Republic, just to fill the void!

I do not like recapping my entire life over the phone. I have a blog. Two, actually. Read it. Read it twice. Then you'll know what's going on with  me. If you still have questions, feel free to ask, but I don't like hearing this (AFTER I've told someone my life's story, including every detail of what we've been up to lately): "Oh, right! Cool. I read that on your blog." Um, okay. So why did you ask me to call you? And then hang up and call three more times, consecutively, to get me to pick up the phone?

My life is pure chaos. And it isn't particularly "fun" right now. So recapping it all for the sake of someone else is really low on my priority list. "I don't want to read all of it from a blog, Sarah." Yeah. Heard that one before. Well, unfortunately, your needs aren't my first priority these days. My kids, my kid's schoolwork, my son's therapies, my marriage, my faith, and my SANITY are my first priorities. If you don't fall into any of those categories, and you're still upset.......I suggest you seek some counseling because you are incredibly narccissistic. (And no, I have no idea how to spell "Narccissistic". Shut up.)

I get it. Talking is more personal. Talking provides people with the whole human connection, blah blah blah...yadda yadda yadda. I get it. And I appreciate that my friends want to connect with me. Really, I do. (No matter how snotty I sound) But I have to say, I have friends who connect with me 75% of the time via IM and Facebook, etc, and they are some of my biggest sources of love and support! So don't knock it till you try it, and don't diss someone for preferring to do things another way. Like I've said 873 times: Until you've walked a mile in someone's shoes, don't criticize the fit. Mmmm, kay?

But here is the deal: Unless I gave birth to you, or I am married to you, or you gave birth to me, or you are a teacher or provider for one of my kids: I don't have the time, energy, personal desire, stamina, or emotional capacity to sit on the phone and gab. I will be interrupted, bothered, hit, smacked, kicked, annoyed, irritated, and just plain pissed off during the course of our conversation, and I absolutely cannot deal with it. I can't.

I can't.

And I really don't want to. That's the key. It's taken me 34 years to figure this out: If it doesn't make me or my family happy, I don't have to do it.  Isn't that a novel concept? More people should figure that out. It's been incredibly liberating for me.

Okay. I am done griping. As always (and it ticks me off that I have to put these disclaimers on my blogs, but my intentions have been in question lately, so here I am) THIS BLOG IS NOT DIRECTED TOWARDS ANY ONE PERSON. IF I WANTED TO INSULT SOMEONE: I WOULD. PERIOD. Got it? No nasty emails later, and no telling so-and-so that I was talking about so-and-so, etc etc etc......let's not go there. (Again.)

So if you wanna connect with me: IM me. Email me. Facebook me. But if you call and I don't answer. Don't take it personally. I've got a lot on my plate. Back down. I still love ya.

Brooke Moss.