I adore Maury but sometimes I think my husband with the heartbeat of a snail gets too absorbed with technology. I'm overwhelmed with life so I don't need any more distractions. After Rivka drops the little ones off for me to babysit this afternoon because Pucci Salon, a prestigious hair salon, has a sudden cancellation and a one year waiting list, I get another surprise. Just as I finally have the sibling bickering under control, Amber has been mildly tortured and we've destroyed the kitchen making snacks for the indoor picnic (Any idea how to get peanut butter off the blender motor?), Maury comes home with a self-satisfied look on his face.

After squeals of delight for "Poppy," Maury announces, "Jean, look what I bought for you." He pulls out something from behind his back.

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"Oh no. Is this one of those iPads? What am I supposed to do with this? I'm still trying to figure out the iPhone you got me a few months ago." I look at him with suspicion. "You wanted one of these, didn't you?" I can tell when he says he's bought a present for me but it's really for him.

"You can do so much more with an iPad. Look." He enters into an electronic trance, which is similar to the golf-History Channel-baseball scores one–as his fingers move quickly all over the screen. "Here, let me invite you to Google +."

"What's Google +?" I ask, humoring him like I'm somewhat interested.

"It's like Facebook but for Google. It's the big new thing but you can only be a part of it if you are invited. The little ones will love playing Angry Birds and Farmville and you will be great at Words with Friends since you like to write. We can even Face Time!"

So far Maury has dragged me into the 21st century with a collection of phones, blue tooths, GPS, a 50" HD television, digital cameras, etc. This list can go on. I don't really need any more technology.

"Slow down, slow down. First of all, the grandkids aren't allowed to touch any expensive electronic equipment. Why would I need Google +? I can barely figure out Facebook and Twitter. I don't have time to be playing silly games. Face Time? Why would I want you to see me looking like you see me in the morning?"

Maury demonstrates it for me. My nostrils look humongous. Very unattractive. Little Jacob goes berserk. "I wanna do that. My friend has one. We can look funny." He grabs it from Maury and in moments shows us a picture of himself stretched to the size of a 300 pound pumpkin.

"Okay, that's enough. This is for Grandma. Face Time is good when we aren't together. Like if you go out-of-town without me." Is he reading my mind?

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Maybe Maury and I can live in different cities and use Face Time to communicate. I saw  the new trend on ABC about Baby Boomer couples who can't decide where to retire and visit each other, living in different cities. Like dating when I still lived at home only with two mortgages. Great idea for independent women and the perfect excuse to get a break from the family. I'm thinking this as the baby is chewing on one of Amber's toys. Maybe then I wouldn't be Stressed in Scottsdale anymore. I'll be Relaxed in Paris, strolling the Left Bank, visiting the Louvre.

Jacob begins a five minute whine. "I want the new toy."

"Maury, thank you for the gift. I'm sure I'll be proficient with it in the next six months. In the meantime, would you mind consulting me before complicating my life and adding to my stress?" I don't think he hears me.

"Jean, look at this. I can check my email and watch the Open at the same time."

As Jacob falls on the floor banging his head and kicking his feet in a major melt down, I muster up my best commanding-officer-in-the-Army voice. It is time for my last resort BIT method of child rearing–Bribery, Intimidation and Threats. After all, it's my survival.

"Okay, kiddos, everyone at attention. You, stop drooling. You, no sniveling. It's almost pool time."

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