It all started with American Idol. Now the list includes:
The X Factor
America's Got Talent
The Voice
The Sing Off
So You Think You Can Dance
Dancing with the Stars
Between all of these shows, I am so, so tired of watching people croon, sashay and juggle their way across my TV screen. "Why not stop watching them?", one might ask. Because I have school-aged children who stay up past 7 p.m. now, that's why.
I look back, with fond memories, on the days when as the clock was hitting seven, my ass was hitting the couch, remote and peanut butter jar in my hands. Those days are gone, my friend. While Little Man is in bed early, #2 is still yammering about marine mammals until eight o'clock, and #1 is glued to my side until close to nine. So unless I want to watch, yet another, episode of Good Luck Charlie*, these shows are practically my only choice. And on those nights when I have watched Cloris Leachman do a disturbingly sexual samba, I want to cry out loud,
"WHY DID YOU LEAVE US, BILL COSBY????"
Where have the family-oriented sitcoms of our childhood gone? Sure, there are family shoes on now, take Modern Family, for instance. While I love it dearly, as it is a reflection of my family (father married to a fiery-tempered South American, one child, a control freak with three kids, married to a lovable dufus, and, the other, a hilarious homosexual), it is not exactly kid-friendly. Take the episode where the kids walk in on Phil and Claire having more-than-missionary-position sex. What, exactly, would I have told my kids about that? All the sitcoms I love, Parks and Red, 30 Rock, and the new, and wet your pants funny Mindy Project and The New Normal, all have so much sexual innuendo, and so many adult plot lines, they are pretty much unwatchable with anyone under the age of fourteen.
Do you remember, back in the 80s, all the great shows that actually centered around the lives of kids? The kids were not just the butts of jokes, or creators of zany situations that they would then disappear from, they were the main characters. Webster, Punky Brewster, Gimme A Break, Charles in Charge, Who's the Boss?, Diff'rent Strokes, Benson, The Facts of Life, Growing Pains, Silver Spoons, ALF. Let's not even discuss that debacle, Small Wonder. Scientist creates and annoying girl robot and adopts it as part of his family? I guess that was before the time of IVF and international adoption, but damn, that kid was so annoying I would taken her batteries out and shoved her in a closet, like I did with the Zhu Zhu Pets after six months.
Yes, yes, many of these shows did delve into serious topics, but at least your parents had some notice when that night's installment was billed a "very special episode". The Facts of Life and Diff'rent Strokes, in particular, had some pretty heavy shit going on: drugs, eating disorders, and sex (TFOL), drugs, eating disorders, kidnapping and child molestation (DS). I still remember these episodes to this day. Kimberly from TFOL passing out from not eating, Dudley's father's intensely repeating his son's name after he discovers he's almost fallen prey to the pedophile "bike guy", all burned in my brain. But alongside all this lesson-teaching was some regular old fun that my parents didn't mind watching with us. Tony Danza was pretty funny in Who's the Boss, and I gotta say, I'd watch a few episodes of Benson tonight with the kids. Ugh, but not that snooty Mr. Belvedere, get over yourself, guy.
And then there is the Godfather of the 80s family sitcom, The Cosby Show. Bill Cosby was, of course, genius, but along with him, you got the full spectrum of family appeal, from youngest to oldest. Rudy brought the cute factor, provided later by the far inferior character, Olivia. Why the hell was that the SOS call for every 80s show? "Bring in a cute kid, preferably with a speech impediment, and the ratings'll go through the roof!" Most of them were just annoying anyway. I'm looking at you, Sam from DF. Older kids also had Vanessa, Theo, Denise to relate to. Something for everybody! And Claire. Oh, Claire. She was the beautiful, and smart, and sexy, and a strict-as-hell mother with a warm side. She and Cliff were madly in love with each other, and dealt with things like their children not studying for tests and staying out past curfew, with love and a no-bullshit policy. We weren't assaulted with "very special episodes", but we were subtly given lesson about right and wrong, then treated to the whole family lip-syncing hilariously to Ray Charles.
And now I'm supposed to spend my evenings staring at Simon Cowell's sour mug? What are today's kids learning? To never pick a John Mayer** song for your audition? Sigh.
Just as talk shows and courtroom shows have taken daytime away from soap operas and game shows (wanna see every B-level actor of your childhood? Switch over to game show network and watch a few episodes of $25,000 Pyramid), reality is king in prime time. Sitcoms seem to be making a comeback in the adult comedy arena, can I hope that some family-friendly shows might be in the works for next fall?
Despite my bitching, I have found one show that has potential, ABC's The Middle. Seems pretty appropriate, although we did see one French-kissing-with-braces scene. It has the mom from Everybody Loves Raymond and the janitor from Scrubs as the parents, who are both great. However, the youngest son, Brick does this demonic whispering thing that's supposed to be an entertaining, obsessive tic. #2 finds it "creepy".
So it's back to ballroom and ballads for now.
*Which, in the world of Disney sitcoms, is pretty amusing. The mother is the best character - a hilarious, straight-talking bulldog of a woman, convinced of her own fabulousness. Where have I seen that before...
**John Mayer is a scumbag in real life. I just know it.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
The Motherload
After spilling half a bottle of Gatorade on the entertainment center, and short-circuiting the cable box in a classic "do as I say, not as I do" moment, I was forced to enjoy some DVD entertainment this morning while finishing my workout. This might be my new MO in the mornings. I have a much sunnier attitude after watching comedy (Scrubs), then after hearing the weather report nine times and that traffic on the Gowanus is backed up. I have lived my entire life in the tri-state area and I still have no idea what that road is or where it goes.
Well maybe a "sunnier attitude" is a stretch because I wound up in tears today. The main character was speaking to an elderly patient about his fears and she put her arms out and gave him the "come here" motion, then held him as he cried. Then I started sobbing in plank position, my arms gave out and I collapsed on the floor.
I have these moments every now and then. When the motherliness of something I see hits me with a laser-like focus in my motherless heart. When I see someone lay their fears out to an adult woman, without fear of judgement, and be able to surrender utterly into the comfort offered, I realize how much I have lost. I have people in my life, my father specifically, who will provide the services above. The poor guy has been forced to listen to a lot of female angst, and complains not a bit, but despite his best efforts, it is my own reaction in this scenario that makes it different. I'm the one who can't let go and be comforted.
Last week was the 19th anniversary of my mother's death, and I realized that I have lived as long without her as I did with her. I have built up a pretty good defense system in that time. I try not to rely on anyone too much, and always, always, feel uncomfortable asking for help. Healthy? Probably not. But if I can do everything myself, or not draw attention to the fact that I can't, then no one will notice my mother is not there, including me. Planning my wedding, getting ready for my babies, having said babies - were all done with the minimum help I could get by with. Not that the older women in my life didn't offer. My aunts, my mother in-law, my stepmother, but none of them is my mother, no matter how much they love me and I, them.
This "stiff upper lip" has not only affected the way I run my life, but it had also worked its way into the way I speak to myself. For example, "just get over it already", is the phrase playing through my mind as I write this because, seriously, it's been almost twenty years. Shouldn't I be over this by now? And when it comes to the kids, keeping the house, writing, I speak to myself like a bully in a schoolyard, pushing myself with negativity. I was talking about this with my sister, KK*, the other day, complaining about some task I hadn't completed, and she asked me, "What would you say to #1 if she were telling you all this?". It took my breath away.
What wouldn't I tell her? I would tell her to stop being so hard on herself. I would point out all the wonderful things she is doing. I would tell her she is a good wife and mother and friend. I would tell her to give herself a damn break. So why not tell myself these things? Maybe it's too hard for me to accept female comfort from a different source, but maybe I can accept it from myself. Maybe I need to replace my inner critic with my inner mother and speak more kindly and in a more encouraging manner.
And maybe it'll be with a Bronx accent and I'll call myself cucaracha.**
*It is such a gift to me that the little girl who used to lose her jacket with unbelievable regularity has grown into the woman who keeps me from losing my mind.
**Spanish for "cockroach". Apparently, my mother gleaned some Spanish from the large Puerto Rican population in our neighborhood. Although, I doubt they were using this term as a pet name for their children.
Well maybe a "sunnier attitude" is a stretch because I wound up in tears today. The main character was speaking to an elderly patient about his fears and she put her arms out and gave him the "come here" motion, then held him as he cried. Then I started sobbing in plank position, my arms gave out and I collapsed on the floor.
I have these moments every now and then. When the motherliness of something I see hits me with a laser-like focus in my motherless heart. When I see someone lay their fears out to an adult woman, without fear of judgement, and be able to surrender utterly into the comfort offered, I realize how much I have lost. I have people in my life, my father specifically, who will provide the services above. The poor guy has been forced to listen to a lot of female angst, and complains not a bit, but despite his best efforts, it is my own reaction in this scenario that makes it different. I'm the one who can't let go and be comforted.
Last week was the 19th anniversary of my mother's death, and I realized that I have lived as long without her as I did with her. I have built up a pretty good defense system in that time. I try not to rely on anyone too much, and always, always, feel uncomfortable asking for help. Healthy? Probably not. But if I can do everything myself, or not draw attention to the fact that I can't, then no one will notice my mother is not there, including me. Planning my wedding, getting ready for my babies, having said babies - were all done with the minimum help I could get by with. Not that the older women in my life didn't offer. My aunts, my mother in-law, my stepmother, but none of them is my mother, no matter how much they love me and I, them.
This "stiff upper lip" has not only affected the way I run my life, but it had also worked its way into the way I speak to myself. For example, "just get over it already", is the phrase playing through my mind as I write this because, seriously, it's been almost twenty years. Shouldn't I be over this by now? And when it comes to the kids, keeping the house, writing, I speak to myself like a bully in a schoolyard, pushing myself with negativity. I was talking about this with my sister, KK*, the other day, complaining about some task I hadn't completed, and she asked me, "What would you say to #1 if she were telling you all this?". It took my breath away.
What wouldn't I tell her? I would tell her to stop being so hard on herself. I would point out all the wonderful things she is doing. I would tell her she is a good wife and mother and friend. I would tell her to give herself a damn break. So why not tell myself these things? Maybe it's too hard for me to accept female comfort from a different source, but maybe I can accept it from myself. Maybe I need to replace my inner critic with my inner mother and speak more kindly and in a more encouraging manner.
And maybe it'll be with a Bronx accent and I'll call myself cucaracha.**
*It is such a gift to me that the little girl who used to lose her jacket with unbelievable regularity has grown into the woman who keeps me from losing my mind.
**Spanish for "cockroach". Apparently, my mother gleaned some Spanish from the large Puerto Rican population in our neighborhood. Although, I doubt they were using this term as a pet name for their children.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Mean Mommy Ridiculous Baby Gear Award Winner
The Baby Roll Asleep!
Where do I begin, dear readers? I was made aware of this product, not in some weird, Lillian
Vernon-esque catalogue that also sells men’s distressed pajama jeans, but after
seeing an actual commercial…on TV! #2 and I were watching The Great Food Truck Race, when this image popped up on the screen. You know a product is ridiculous when an eight year old
gives it the WTF? face.
I have been in the shoes, or rather, mom jeans, of the
poor soul in this picture.
Although, she is obviously a model, since any mother who has been
dealing with a non-sleeping baby long enough to buy this product out of
desperation does not sit at the dining room table smiling while chatting on the
phone. She would be propped up on the couch, bloodshot eyes focusing on Dr. Phil to keep her awake, still
in her pajamas at 4 p.m., not having been able to get dressed since she has to keep
this baby moving to keep him asleep.
Her table would be that clean though, rather than strewn with
the crusty breakfast dishes of a large family. Only the mother of a firstborn
would need to buy this product.
Younger siblings are in constant motion by nature of their
circumstances.
It is a hell impossible to imagine having a baby who will not
sleep. There is a reason the CIA
uses sleep deprivation as a form of torture. It WILL drive you to madness. Not being able to drink too much coffee if you are nursing,
your only artificial source of energy is sugar. So you eat sweets pretty much all day, which causes blood-sugar
related mood swings and does wonders to help get your pre-baby body back, which
Giselle has taught us takes about four weeks. You cry. A lot. You are an emotional landmine. Not getting enough rest while,
caring for a little being who does not understand what he or she is doing to
you and, therefore, can not be the recipient of your wrath, results in epic
fights with your husband about loading the dishwasher correctly.
The sheer anguish of parents just trying to get some sleep is
reflected in the number of items in the “sleep aid” aisle of Buy Buy Baby. I remember getting myself reasonably cleaned up, changing out of the track pants I'd been wearing for three days, packing up the baby and all her crap, and stumbling through the doors of the local baby emporium looking for whatever item the baby chatrooms were recommending. I was filled with hope that THIS, whatever it was, would be my saving grace. The sleep positioner mat, The Nap Nanny, I bought many of these types of things and none of them were, or are, cheap. Sure, maybe these companies are really trying to help parents, or maybe they are banking on the Abu Ghraib-like state created by a sleepless infant. Either way, I gladly threw hundreds of dollars their way.
Back to the Baby Roll Asleep. Useful or not, I really take issue with the design. Doesn't this thing basically perform the same function of a stroller? It holds the baby while you move it around on wheels. Except a stroller actually keeps the baby out of harm's way, it doesn't put the baby in the open, practically on the floor, to be spilled on and tripped over. The thing is about three inches of the floor - again, a sign that only single chile households can purchase this device. With all the food and toy parts that fall off counters and tabletops in my house, any infant in that position would be in serious danger of losing an eye via a peanut butter-covered knife or Lego. And speaking of toys, don't tell me Little Man wouldn't be stealing away with this thing the minute it was empty. I can just see him convincing his sisters to give him a ride in it.
In the fight for sleep there can be no judgement. If someone had told me, "Burn a hundred dollar bill, tie your baby to your head, and she'll sleep", it would have been a Benjamin Franklin barbecue at my house. So if you think this device is the answer to all your sleep-deprived prayers, you go right ahead and send them your $79.95. However, if you have a old hockey stick, a large cake pan, and a skateboard, you can save yourself some money. It would probably work, or not work, as well.
Back to the Baby Roll Asleep. Useful or not, I really take issue with the design. Doesn't this thing basically perform the same function of a stroller? It holds the baby while you move it around on wheels. Except a stroller actually keeps the baby out of harm's way, it doesn't put the baby in the open, practically on the floor, to be spilled on and tripped over. The thing is about three inches of the floor - again, a sign that only single chile households can purchase this device. With all the food and toy parts that fall off counters and tabletops in my house, any infant in that position would be in serious danger of losing an eye via a peanut butter-covered knife or Lego. And speaking of toys, don't tell me Little Man wouldn't be stealing away with this thing the minute it was empty. I can just see him convincing his sisters to give him a ride in it.
In the fight for sleep there can be no judgement. If someone had told me, "Burn a hundred dollar bill, tie your baby to your head, and she'll sleep", it would have been a Benjamin Franklin barbecue at my house. So if you think this device is the answer to all your sleep-deprived prayers, you go right ahead and send them your $79.95. However, if you have a old hockey stick, a large cake pan, and a skateboard, you can save yourself some money. It would probably work, or not work, as well.
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