TV Casualty

I haven't written in a while, mainly because things have been crazy. And when things get crazy a lot falls by the wayside, blogging (already a back-burner type thing for me) is the first to go. Another thing that I completely give up on is the tight restraint I want to have over my son's screen time. Screen time is something that's always vexed me. I have a smart, caring, good kid. What's the harm with a little TV? I grew up watching TV, maybe even more than the average kid, but I was also spending tons of time playing outside, drawing, riding my bike, entertaining myself in my room, etc. I turned out fine and I had a great childhood! In fact, the TV memories from my childhood, if anything ENHANCED it!

So why do I beat myself up about screen time? I guess the reason may be as simple as that as parents we can ALWAYS find something to beat ourselves up about. Part of being a good parent is questioning whether or not you're doing the right thing, right? I know plenty of kids that get ZERO screen time, but I knew I could never go that route. #1 because I honestly don't think TV is that bad and #2? Well, let's just be honest, I'm lazy and I need a friggin' break sometimes. The problem lies in the times that I'm overly stressed and mentally exhausted and I turn my parenting responsibilities over to Sponge Bob or Team Umizoomi.

Another component to this is Finn has never really been the kind of kid to play by himself, and as an only child that's an important skill. As much as I love playing pirates and marble track there comes a time when I need to get some shit done around the house. Oh, Hello, Pup Control! I was caught in a trap of 'play with the kid' or 'let the kid watch TV'. This concerned me because I didn't want to raise a kid that always needed to be entertained. I didn't know what to do so I relied on the TV to keep him occupied while I worked, or did laundry or made dinner. It was too much TV. This became clear to me when he began singing jingles from commercials "like a good neighbor statefarm is there!"

After a particularly stressful period of family illness, school vacation and snowstorms TV was at an all time high. School was to begin again on Monday, back to a normal schedule. The perfect time to make a change. Expecting a major backlash I told him that starting Monday he could pick ONE show to watch in the morning. "But what will I doooooooooo?" I told him he'd have to figure something out. And you know what? HE DID. Without complaining (too much) he's been looking at more books, drawing more, playing up in his room (alone), playing outside with the dog, and crazily enough: asking for chores to do around the house. All the while that I'm getting all the shit I need to get done done, which in turn also leaves me more energized for a round of Playmobil pirates vs. schoolchildren.

I hope we can stick to this, as I really can't believe how well it's working. Maybe next time I feel like TV is the only option I should just give my kid a little more credit and let him figure out something to do.

Dry Bones Bowser shoots tape, drinks lava and gets his power from the sun.

mudskipper

We had a weird warm up today, the 7 foot snowman we built yesterday was relegated to a pile of snow a little bigger than a bowling ball this morning. As a result it's muddy. REAL muddy. After school I was in the house, trying to get ahead of the daily clean up/organizing that gets so out of control so fast when, through the window, I saw Finn, boots deep in mud, crouched down, hat discarded in a sloppy puddle and really looking like this was the beginning of something really catastrophically filthy. Without thinking I rapped my fist on the window, hard, ready to give him my most disapproving look. He didn't hear me. I went to the next window, did it again, but again he didn't hear me. Or, let's face it, he was probably ignoring me. 

Then I stopped to think. I saw his smiling face. A vivid childhood fantasy came rushing back to me. As a kid I thought it would be the greatest thing ever to jump into a neck deep pile of mud. I thought about it a LOT. It was like #1 on my list of best-things-that-could-possibly-happen-in-a-fantasy-world. I think it may have originated in my favorite baby book A Hole Is To Dig. 

I stopped trying to get his attention at the window and waited for him to come in. He opened the door and saw me see his hands, boots, jacket and pants all covered in mud. He looked ready for my scolding. Instead I said, "You call that dirty? I want you to get back out there and not come back in until you're REALLY covered." He looked at me astonished and then started to push past me into the house, too confused I think to even answer. "No, I'm serious." I continued, "I dare you to go out there in your undies and belly flop right in that mud." His eyes grew wide. He searched my face for signs of mental breakdown. "REALLY?" he said.

"Really."  

 

Of course, afterwards being covered in cold mud did not seem like much fun and he got real angry and upset and said that that was the worst idea I ever had. I told him I was making dreams come true. Still scowling he let me clean him up in a warm tub and then I told him to quit whining and go play some video games. That kid doesn't know how good he has it.