If you couldn’t tell by the clever title above, I’m not watching the 2012 London Olympics. I’m boycotting.
Or maybe it’s less boycotting, and more that I’m just not able to watch it. But if I was boycotting for some reason, I would be rocking that cause.
We canceled our cable almost a year ago. We hemmed and hawed over it, knowing it was the financially responsible thing to do, seeing as our kids watched 95% of it. We just didn’t have time. Or we didn’t make time. Christian and I stood helplessly by as episode after episode of our former favorite shows piled up. I couldn’t justify the cost of cable when we can watch a bunch of annoying kids’ shows on Netflix.
The problem is that after we canceled the cable, we — that’s the royal we, but I really mean he — never made the move to actually hook up the TV to watch local network channels. We don’t watch the news, but who needs the news when you have Twitter? I can watch Grey’s Anatomy and Modern Family on abc.com, and I’ve now developed a healthy penchant for Netflix documentaries, which are perfectly legit and educational (I highly recommend Being Elmo and Eames: The Architect and the Painter).
Now I really love the Olympics, so as they drew near, I made my case for putting “hooking up the TVs” on the honey-do list. But despite my techie husband, my TVs mysteriously remained unhooked.
I fired my personal technician and turned to Google, but that was just a whole bunch of info about cables and letters and numbers, along with pictures of cables with letters and numbers, and I’m a writer, not a technician, okay?
So I didn’t get to watch the Opening Ceremonies.
I missed the men’s
eye candy swimming, but did find out that Ryan Lochte is a total douche canoe.
I didn’t get to watch any beach volleyball, but did learn that there are a lot of unidentified asses out there in the women’s volleyball world.
I did get to watch 30 minutes of women’s gymnastics while at the gym, but it was quite distracting. I was so into it that I almost flew off the treadmill in my own concentration. Turns out Olympic parents aren’t the only ones who involuntarily mimic the athlete’s routines.
So the Olympics hasn’t been what I had hoped, and I’m bummed! But at least I have a year and a half to get my husband on that damn task of hooking up the TVs in time for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, right?
What has been your favorite sport to watch in the London Olympics? What else have I missed?
Photo credit: Jans Canon via Flickr
One of the best things about being married and parenting is that you don’t always see eye to eye with your spouse on some of the most important issues. You want to use Love & Logic, he wants to use Dad & Logic (which does not exist). He wants to home school, you have faith in the public school system. You want to spend the morning tweeting away, and he wants you to like interact with them and stuff.
I’m telling you, disagreements make for exciting times!
It should come as no surprise that my beloved and I come to a head once in a while on certain things, most notably those in which one parent is trying to take the lazy route, and the other is showing off with their “motivation” and “yes they need a bath tonight, it’s been 4 days.”
So let’s take a tip from Marinka of Motherhood in NYC and employ her method of parental problem solving with a little game she calls “I’m Right, You’re Wrong.” For fairness sake I’m not going to tell you which camp Christian or I reside. Just make sure you agree with me — I mean, pick the one that you feel is the correct path (which should be mine).
The Problem: Zoe has a poopy diaper during a Sunday afternoon trip to the ice cream parlor. Due to a recent stomach bug, this diaper is nas-TEE and has leaked onto her shorts. And since I was obviously very excited about the ice cream, I forgot to pack diapers and wipes for what was supposed to be a quick outing.
Disagreeing parties: Christian and his beautiful wife, Leigh Ann
Position One: You have to get her out of that poopy diaper. Let her go commando on the way home. If she pees, she pees. How could you force your poor little girl to sit in poop? She will totally get a rash and will hate you for the rest of her life. You are a horrible parent.
Position Two: You are crazy. I am not taking a chance on her peeing in the seat. Then we’ll have to take it out of the car and WASH it. I would rather apply a little diaper cream than deal with that business. Here’s a rag for her to sit on — so she doesn’t leak anymore and we have to wash it ANYWAY. Have some sense! It’s not that long of a ride.
Well? Who is right?
PS — Thanks to my impeccable memory and a good dose of luck, I found a random diaper in the car. So if I don’t win the argument, at least I kinda won at that.
PPS — I won a book in a giveaway and loved it. Check out my review of Dan Gets a Minivan over on This Blogger Makes Fun of Stuff.
PPPS — Say hi to my new sponsors, Coupons by Answers.com!
PPPPS — I think that’s all for now. Maybe. I might be back with more.
Mother’s Day 2012, in as few words as possible because it’s late and I’m tired:
There was an abrupt awakening for breakfast in bed. “Time is of the essence,” Christian says as he delivers my meal, which I eat with 3 little girls bouncing on the bed.
There were handpicked wildflowers and a handmade (by like an actual jewelry maker, not my kids) necklace, and a card handwritten with loving scribbles and words. Because he knows I appreciate things that are unique and one of a kind.
There was “Claire, did you write your name?”
“Yup. I did.”
There was a perfect Texas spring day at the lake. There was hiking, throwing rocks, enjoying the breeze, and making friends on the playscape.
There were photos in which I can barely be seen.
There is now a sunburn on my white, pasty skin.
There was a California Club at my favorite sub shop.
There was a sweet baby who drifted off literally as we pulled on to our street.
Mother’s Day pretty much ended when dinner time rolled around and the usual meal time circus ensued. They were all, “Lady, we’re tired, cranky, and we ain’t eatin these fish sticks, so stuff it!”
They went to bed at like 6:30. And then Mother’s Day commenced with my free meal from Pei Wei. And then it was over again because I had to do some work. And the dishes. Just because I wasn’t allowed to do them all day doesn’t mean that anyone else did, but then again, no one else can load the dishwasher like this gal.
In other news, Monday is the girls’ last day of MDO for the year. Hold me.
Hope your Mother’s Day was rockin! Mine was pretty awesome, thanks to these folks.