Finding Child Care: Our TV Baby-Sits
Submitted by sugarbleu
Let me be frank. I hate television. If it were up to me, there would be no TV in the house. The kids would wear cloth diapers, if not panties (they're potty training). They would have been breastfed. They'd learn their numbers and colors and alphabet by playing dice and cards, sewing and quilting and crocheting, and puzzles and family reading time. They would have no toys except things they helped make, like rag dolls and wooden fruit, plus Rollerblades and unicycles and other things they help us assemble.
That's right. I am a disgusting hybrid of punk and hippie. The television is banned until the girls' mommies and daddies come home and turn it on themselves, and we spend most of the day learning outside. (You see, I'm an auntie and a nanny in an artists' commune.)
I hate the television.
But today, it is a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse marathon for Emi and Momo. Why? Because I have both been puking all night and morning. Probably a stomach bug that I caught from the girls (who were both puking a couple days ago, themselves), even drinking water leaves us bowing to the porcelain queen. Momo's even asked to go to the bathroom once to "get sick" so she could pretend-puke in the potty, like we were (unfortunately, ours isn't pretend).
So today, I love this stupid television and that inane mouse. I put the baby gate up on the stairs, locked the balcony's glass door, have snacks set out on a plate on their table, and am playing every episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Willa's Wild Life on our DVR, as well as their favorite movies (Coraline and Nightmare Before Christmas).
While I am lulling miserably on the couch covered in blankets, sipping water and occasionally racing to the potty, they are sitting on the floor in front of me, still in their PJs, glued to our big flat-screen.
For today, it looks like the television and I have reconciled.
That's right. I am a disgusting hybrid of punk and hippie. The television is banned until the girls' mommies and daddies come home and turn it on themselves, and we spend most of the day learning outside. (You see, I'm an auntie and a nanny in an artists' commune.)
I hate the television.
But today, it is a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse marathon for Emi and Momo. Why? Because I have both been puking all night and morning. Probably a stomach bug that I caught from the girls (who were both puking a couple days ago, themselves), even drinking water leaves us bowing to the porcelain queen. Momo's even asked to go to the bathroom once to "get sick" so she could pretend-puke in the potty, like we were (unfortunately, ours isn't pretend).
So today, I love this stupid television and that inane mouse. I put the baby gate up on the stairs, locked the balcony's glass door, have snacks set out on a plate on their table, and am playing every episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Willa's Wild Life on our DVR, as well as their favorite movies (Coraline and Nightmare Before Christmas).
While I am lulling miserably on the couch covered in blankets, sipping water and occasionally racing to the potty, they are sitting on the floor in front of me, still in their PJs, glued to our big flat-screen.
For today, it looks like the television and I have reconciled.
Submit!
