Computer Says No: When Your Children Destroy Something Expensive



Today marks the death of a dear friend: My laptop.


Last Friday, all was well in the Doctomum household. Well, all was on a par with normal for in my household - the usual, no-one wants to get dressed, and there are milky honey nut loops scattered around the furnishings.


I could hear a scrambling sound in the lounge. In all honesty I knew baby Bobcat was making his way into his beloved corner, which housed a nest of tables and a bookshelf (ok, and maybe a pile of DVDs and essentials magazines that I really must scrapbook the recipes from). And at the bottom of that bookshelf lay my laptop.

I was making my breakfast, I was famished, I just needed 30 more seconds, maybe a minute to spread on some butter onto some hot toast (you parents out there will know the luxury of eating hot buttered toast. Nothing comes hot anymore or in complete pieces after you've had children - the little blighters have an uncanny knack to need something desperately when you are eating or just feel complused to chomp on what you're having).

I heard, "mummy, he won't get off...my water, my water, nooooooo, NOOOOOOOO!"

No, I was going to finish buttering. Sometimes you just need to let them sort it out for themselves....

"Thump!" Resounded from the lounge.

Sigh. Buttering dreams vanished, I poked my head round the doorway.

Sat squarely on my laptop with a upturned cup of water balanced on his head was Bobcat. Strands of his newly cut hair stuck to his face and he looked more like Jim Carey from Dumb and Dumber than before but now with a touch of Tommy Cooper.

I raised him up, in his soggy grow, to see his 8kg of chunky baby behind had been planted squarely on my laptop in a puddle of southern water's finest.

My other son, still had his arm flung out over the sofa from where he had flung his brother over, after he had dared to touch his precious tap water.

"Mummy, I didn't do it, my arm did it, tell my arms off." The naughty one declared.

"Your arms are very naughty...and the owner of those arms is very very naughty!" I resigned, through gritted teeth.

Then came synchronised wails of two children as they both realised they'd ballsed up - one a soggy balls up, the other the one that actually ballsed up.

Luckily for me, the laptop was shut and only really had a pool of water on top. 

Heck, that laptops had worse happen to it, I thought. I've knocked it off things, I've spilt wine on it, and it's got at least half a bag of kettle chips crammed down the keyboard nooks... Pah, this is nothing.

Casually I wiped down the top, tossed the computer (gently) on the dining table and we went out for the morning.

Come sacred naptime when we returned, I cracked open that baby.
Hot tea in hand, ready to get to business.... Hmmmm, what should I get up to? Finally Google calendar our lives? Get on with a quick blog article (that is never quick)? Shop for tops as all of mine have weird kid orange stains or random holes in?

Oh, it's having difficulty turning on.
Press the on button again.
Press it again.
Press it for a bit longer this time.
Try plugging it in.
Try opening and shutting it
Look for a magic reset button.
Realise it doesn't have one.
It won't turn on.
Assume panic stations!

Google what to do whilst giving the computer a little whack, sometimes a little whack just whacks it back to life.

Nothing happens.

Google laptop repair man. Found one.

So I give hailed laptop man (my saviour) a ring:

"So what's the problem love?" He says. 

*Blushes* "Oh... it's just...well...one of my children pushed the other over and he spilled a bit of water on it...but it was closed...but he landed on the laptop too, and he weighs about 8kg... y'know I've done worse before, but it just won't turn on...I've tried plugging it in and er...whacking it a bit."

Best not tell him, that I'm stills but miffed about that hot buttered toast or lack thereof, particularly as I now gaze at my cold stagnant tea from sacred naptime, left redundant after my crazed laptop resuscitation antics.

He sniggers, "I'll be round in an hour."


An hour later, he strapped my laptop into his case. 
"Don't worry love, I'll only charge you £10 if I can't fix it. Should be able to get the data off anyway."

Ah, so really it was win win, if he couldn't fix it, it would only be £10 and we could save the 5000+ cute baby pics I had on there and comedy toddler video clips. Oh there was all those work documents and power points too, suppose they would come in handy.


At this point, I am going to partially address the guilt in the back of my mind for not backing this up. There addressed it, now covering it back up with jest. 

So, my laptop was whisked away for a  weekend away with a new man. Surely she would return a new woman full of oomph and turned on by this new guy caressing her gigabytes and manhandling her harddrive?


Monday comes with a missed call.
The message left came with some solom news, which left me feeling surprisingly saddened. "I'm afraid it's not good news...." My saviour said.
Oh my god, she's gone.


"The motherboard's completely gone, I haven't seen one like this for a while, and the harddrive just keeps clicking, they call it the click of death." He said, as he delivered the blow. He appears to think I know what a motherboard is and how it differs from the harddrive (cue frantic googling of 'what is the difference between a motherboard and the hard drive?').

"Can I drop it back off this afternoon?" He says.

"Sure." I said surprisingly cheerily, like I was in a medical drama where they just give you a fatal diagnosis but you're holding it together for the kids.


"But, you can get the files off right?" I said hopefully.

"Well, about that click of death..."

It seems the click of death is when your computer says no. No, to more snacks rammed into the keys. No, to lighting up your face again on an evening. No, to you, no more of your rule, you clumsy oaf, off to better places now. But, yes to a big bill for data recovery (most likely).

So the lesson of this tale?

- Kid break shit. Yep. I mean I broke my fair share as a child. I once jumped through an expensive pool cover as I wanted to walk like Jesus across it, so I suppose that's karma (For clarification, Jesus walking across water, not across a swimming pool cover, I don't think Jesus was ever quite in that position. Not even in the New Testiment).

- The hot buttered toast was not worth it (and I didn't get to savour it anyway).

- Back up your files, though that wouldn't of saved my computer, at least I would of had those squidgy widgey cutesy wootsey pics on hand (and I literally just transferred all my iPhone pics to my computer...talk about Sod's law).

- But, this has given me the opportunity to write a very pure blog article. No fanciness. No spangly pics. Just the raw honesty of someone who's just lost their beloved (crappy) laptop and who's husband won't let her touch his expensive gaming laptop (from his memories of some teeny tiny episode of when I left wet nail varnish on the keys of his many years ago. I though it brightened up his lacklustre keys, but not everyone is a fashonista like myself).


I could blame my children, but it's what they do eh, f**k s**t up. Then look damn cute with water cup bowler hats on after.

After a sorrowful Facebook status update about the demise of my little techno beast, a friend replied with:

"This is a memorable event!...
Live the moment! This rarely happens again!"

Which I suppose is true, like when you drop your phone in the kids bath, when you flush you bleep down the loo (only kidding, this brings secret joy to most doctors. The little bleeping git has gone...at least until I go to switch board for another and her billed for sacrificing the original)...Yes, being a little less in touch and less available does give you a new lease of life, a new bit of old school techno-free freedom.

Well I may just go write a letter....or go on the aye-pad (the toddler pronunciation for iPad)...


Peace out, until I get a new lappy-ma-top.
Unless you wanna give me a free one? Promise I won't #bloggerblackmail you...pretty please with RAM on top?

******

Alright dudes, show me some sympathy...or tell me what your kids have done that's worse - both will make me feel better.

PS. Apologies for typos and bad spacing etc as I'm diddly doing this all on my phone. And also advance soz's for being slow to reply to any comments, due to techno-idiot issues.


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