Maybe yes, Maybe no

It's happening.

The incessant demanding of material items viewed on television, specifically marketed to young children at a time in which is most likely to result in a favorable manner for the child and the toy manufactures.

The evil ones know my weakness. You can requests just about anything from me (flame thrower maybe?) before 8am and several cups of coffee.

Today, at 7am, I was forced to turn on non-commercial free cartoons because Blues Clues and Mickey Mouse just weren't cutting it for my fickle toddler. After multiple trips through the cartoon channel line-up, we decided to go with Phineas and Ferb. Not a bad show in it's own right. Kinda cute actually, and a nice alternative to the typical toddler shows that make me want to beat my head against a wall repeatedly. Anyone who's sat and watched hour after hour of Little Bear, Little Bill, Franklin, Max n Ruby, or Ni Hao Kai-Lan can attest to my pain.

It also wasn't Spongebob which I detest. So a small personal victory. ya!

The first commercial was for a Barbie princess castle. It was bright pink, Barbie was wearing a ball gown similar to Cinderella and small plastic heels. I knew instantly this would send the husband into hysterics that would result in a downward spiral of self doubt about his ability to raise a masculine son.

Immediate veto.

Next was a commercial for Handy Manny's fix-it motorcycle with side car. The tools would ride along enjoying the breeze on their steely faces and could at a moments notice hop out, do their tool thing, detach the side car and Manny could have a chopper. Nice! [nodding in approval]

I turn and glance at Tyler, smile and give a thumbs up. Nothing. Bummer.

And moving on to the next commercial.

Bakugan. The next commercial was for Bakugan. The small battle robots, transformers, action figures heck I don't know what they are but Tyler lurched forward and stared with his mouth half open. The commercial continued to suck my child in with his pointing, and head nodding and constant Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya's. Then it came.

I want!

Mama, I want!

I looked back at the screen and all I could see in my mind were these small things taking over my house, being flung at me in fits of rage, and strewn all over the floor with their sharp pointy edges just lying in wait to poke me in the foot in a darken hallway after accidentally stepping on them for the 100th time.

I made a cringey face. I don't want to step on something pointy, it'll hurt.

So I turned to Tyler with a compromise.

How about a nice stuffed Elmo doll? Wouldn't that be a nice safe toy to play with? [nodding]

I got a short, curt NO response and a head shake to my obviously ridiculous question.

[embarrassed laugh] Silly mommy, what was I thinking.

So I busted out the mommy secret weapon.

The "maybe" response. The "maybe" response is genius because we mommy's can give our child hope without looking like the bad guy. We can escape sticky situations while diverting attention away from the item in question. But our "maybe" response is not delivered with qualifications therefore the promise can be recalled later and blamed on disapproving behavior of the child. It's fool proof!

Maybe, buddy. We'll see. Let's go get changed for the sitters now.

Tomorrow, it's back to Noggin.

Read more...

Turn it like this, stand on your head and close your eyes

I am not a geek.

I am not technologically savvy, I do not subscribe to wired magazine, I do not drool at the latest windows whatever release, I do not contemplate the efficiencies of a dual monitor workspace, I do not know the difference between a digital coaxial audio cable and a RCA cable, and I certainly do not know how to make a TV work without the remote.

I know just enough to get by. Which is to say, just enough to convince myself I can fix things and then proceed to royally screw them up. It's a gift.

So when our purchase of a new flat screen HDTV included a complementary visit from the "Geek Squad" to set up, unpackage, install and make everything all pretty, I all but squealed of excitement.

The guy came, he fixed, he left. Relatively uneventful.

The next day, the husband comes home, brushes a kiss across my cheek and deposits himself in the recliner in front of his new TV. Sometime later than night between re-runs of Backyardigans and watching a new episode of Ghost Hunters (excellent show by the way) the remote stops controlling the TV.

We try everything. we power off everything, reboot the receiver, change the batteries, switch remotes, switch boxes, switch positions and stood ridiculously close to the receiver, but nothing works. We were stuck with a brand new giant TV and a remote that isn't even worthy of being a paperweight.

I called AT&T technically support 3 times in 3 days. Every time, I spent 30 mins chattering with someone who's probably half way across the world, getting the scripted answers to my problem and no solution. On the third attempt, I finally talk with someone who actually speaks English as their native language and seems as if he just might be geeky enough to solve my problem.

I run through my issues and he stops and ponders what I've just said.

"Sounds like it might be an issue with your backlight"

really? that's what I thought [eyeroll]

"Ok, your gonna think I'm crazy..."

doubt it

"But my buddy told me about a trick to try."

I love it when geeks have buddies, they always have the answers.

"Turn the TV away from the receiver, put the receiver behind the TV, and try putting a blanket over the screen"

your right, I think you're crazy

But it was worth a shot.

So there I was, cordless phone perched on my shoulder, the TV sitting whopper-jawed on the blanket chest, a waffle weave blanket draped over the screen, Tyler vehemently protesting against his ability to sit within a foot of the TV and watch Diego, the dog barking at the commotion, trying persistently to point the remote and make the menu button work, and the AT&T techie barking directions over the chaos.

Then it happened. The menu popped up.

My hands instinctively raised above my head in my own personal celebration. I had never felt more satisfied. I fixed something! Hallelujah!

I was giggling as I relayed my success to the techie on the other end of the phone. He congratulated me, requested that I respond favorably to the "customer service survey" I'll receive via email, and hung up.

Then it hit me. One can't possible watch TV with this set up.

What the hell am I going to do now?!?

By now, Tyler had figured out that he could stick his head under the blanket, lean on the blanket chest and watch Diego even closer. I pulled the blanket off his head, scooped him up under each arm and plopped him down about 3 feet from the TV.

"Stay" I motion to him.

I turn around to survey the situation and took a deep breath.

About 3 hours later, I had unstrung, unplugged, restrung, plugged in and shifted just about every component in our entertainment center and finally had a working system.

It looked like a hillbilly trailer park mess. Wires hanging everywhere, speakers propped up, nails punched into the walls and a plastic ficus tree attempting to hide a power cord.

But....it still worked.

I felt invincible.

Tyler and I celebrated my success with a bowl of pretzels and a cold glass of apple cider.

Read more...

Me time

I do not like watching baseball. On TV that is. In real life, it's exhilarating. The cheering, the camaraderie, the wave, the cat calling at the batter. It's a good time, made better by popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs and twizzlers (my personal fav). Watching it on TV however, is painful. I'd rather break the knob off and watch CSPAN all day. The only oddly interesting part is to watch and wait for some idiot batter to check himself on national tv, or pick his nose during an ill-timed close-up. Then it's funny, because you know that guys mom is watching and is mortified she raised a crotch grabbing nose picker.

The only thing worse to watch on TV is golf. Oh.My.God. I fall asleep every time. The hushing crowd, the quiet whispers of the pompous scottish oof commentating about whether or not Phil Mickelson or Tiger Woods is able to sink the 50 ft putt.

Oh, look he made it! [golf clap]

I keep waiting for it to turn into a scene from Happy Gilmore with roadies, fan signs, drunk guys yelling obscenities, hockey sticks as drivers and putting pool style. THAT would be awesome to watch.

Unfortunately the husband loves all things baseball and golf related. So when May sweeps roll around you can almost hear me grind my teeth. Because there is nothing else on TV that he would rather watch. And since baseball is on almost every channel this time of year, I get a lot of reading done, A LOT.

I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I could be like my friend who's boyfriend is obsessed with sports period. The NFL draft, the NCAA pre-season, the NFL pre-season, the NBA playoffs, the NFL playoffs, the Super Bowl, countless NCAA bowl games and the Stanley Cup playoffs. Did you know that aside from NASCAR, the NHL has the longest season? Me either, but yep, she knew that. Anything sports related on TV initiates a crowd of his buddies to camp out at her house, take over her sectional, play XBOX at commercials, eat all her food, drink massive amounts of beer, smoke cigars and generally sink up her house. Ya, I suppose it could be worse.

Read more...