Turning Off the Tube: Part 2

I am happy to say that Bella (and mommy!) survived Day 1 of "Turning off the Tube!" I am trying not to be over-the-top about it, so when she got up this morning and wanted to drink chocolate milk and finish the last 5 or 10 minutes of Sleeping Beauty, I didn't count that against her. But when it was over, I told her, "Mommy will look at the tv schedule on the computer and you can pick one show (30 min) to watch. After that is over, we are turning the t.v. off until after bath time."

So I cooked breakfast for K when he got home from third shift, then the girls and I went downstairs to the playroom while he went to bed. We played a few minutes, then Bella watched her 30 minutes of t.v. Unfortunately, there is no Dora the Explorer on Saturday so Spongebob it was. Anyway. When the half our was up, the t.v. went off.

And it stayed off all day, except for when K turned it on. Oh well. I'm not about to tell the man of the house his thirty minutes of t.v. time are up in the middle of a Wisconsin Badgers basketball game...

So after bath Bella watched some more Sleeping Beauty (we have it memorized now) and then went to bed. Yay!

We can so do this.

Turning Off the Tube

My sister and I were raised in what most people would consider a very strict household. We had limitations on music, movies, and extracurricular activities. And- a biggie for most people- we did not have a television. When I was a kid I never really understood the reaction I got from people when I told them that. Now it's kind of like someone telling you they don't have a cell phone or a landline.

Quite obviously I survived to adulthood.

My husband was raised (like most people!) in a home with a television. So when we got married and I moved into his house, we had one. For the first couple of years we didn't have cable. Then we just got basic cable. Then we got the bundle with internet and 75 channels.

Do you see where this is going?

So my children are being raised in a home with a television. Don't get me wrong, I do not believe their watching Dora the Explorer is leading to the early exploration of narcotics. I do not believe the Mickey Mouse Club is warping their little minds. Spongebob Squarepants, on the other hand...

And I'm guilty as well. I don't watch a lot of t.v. And when I do it's usually HGTV. And I do really enjoy "19 Kids and Counting" on TLC. Is this making me a horrible person? Probably not.

But for my kids it comes down to standards. When they outgrow Dora, do I really want them watching Hannah Montana or iCarly? Absolutely not. Do I want them seeing commercials with sexual innuendo? (even shampoo commercials, for crying out loud!) No thanks. Do I need to hear "Mommy, can I get that?" every time a toy commercial is on? I'll pass.

They could be looking at books. Drawing. Painting. Pretending.

For me it comes down to time. I've come to realize the past few days that I am wasting so much of it. I waste time that I could spend doing productive things around the house. Or with my kids. Reading them books. Watching them draw. Helping them paint. Pretending. Or I could be reading my Bible or praying.

I'm not saying the televisons are going in the trash. Although, to be perfectly honest that's exactly where about 98% of the stuff they show belongs. For one thing, my husband would go into major withdrawals without his ESPN. And I believe some of the childrens programs are good, sound, educational viewing. (like PBS!)

What I have in mind is more of a strict limit on viewing. For instance, allowing half an hour during the morning when a childrens program is on, and then half an hour of a DVD in the evening to wind down. Right now Bella is watching more that that, even though she is by no means a couch potato. So making the change may be a bit difficult. But I believe in the end it will be worth it.

And the winner is....the F350!

So, obviously there's a story behind this one.

About a week and a half ago I was washing dishes when I heard (and felt!) a big ruckus. My first thought was that a large piece of furniture had spontaneouly tipped over of its own accord. But all the chests of drawers (didn't you always think they were called chester drawers? I did!) were still standing. Then I thought maybe the clothes rod in one of the girls' closets had collapsed under the weight of their considerable wardrobe...nope.

My next I idea was that there had been a bad wreck out in front of my house. I quickly walked to the window, doing a quick mental review of CPR. Airway, Breathing, Circulation...look, listen, and feel for breathing...etc.

No wreck.

Then I heard that voice in the back of my head. You know, that little nagging one that is usually pretty accurate and almost always the bearer of bad news:

"Someone ran their car into my house."

So I went downstairs and opened the door into my basement. Sure enough. My garage door was hanging by a thread, or rather a cable, and the wall beside it was kaput. There was an F350 flatbed truck in my driveway and a very sheepish guy standing beside it. He had wheeled into my driveway with the intention of turning around. Unfortunately my drive was covered in black ice. And the rest is history. (The really ironic part is my husband bought a big bag of Ice Melt the day before but hadn't had a chance to put it out yet. I didn't bring that up.)

The driver was extremely embarassed and apologetic. I told him not to worry, it could happen to anyone. I called the police to get a police report. NOTE: if you need a cop, call 911, it does NOT matter if no one is hurt! It does NOT matter if it isn't a real emergency. Or so I was informed by a very snippy lady at the police department.

Then what happens is, even though you said repeatedly ,"No one is hurt, I just need an officer to come do a report," an EMT will show up at your front door and ask if everyone is ok.

So I spent the rest of the afternoon (in addition to chasing my girls around!) talking to the police officer, my insurance company, the drivers insurance company, etc. And now, almost three weeks later, the gaping hole in our house is boarded up with plywood, and insurance adjusters are the bane of our existence.