It’s amazing to me how much my television viewing habits have changed over the last two years.
On one hand, my kids have opened my eyes to a whole new world of television that I never realized existed, but there are moments when I find myself watching these shows and scratching my head.
One particular scenario from last weekend pretty much sums it up. I was feeding Carson, while Beckett was banging off a few sprints from one end of the house to the other. On the television was the sensation of the week in Beckett’s world – The Doodlebops.
I don’t know what’s funnier; that he likes these videos about this three-member band dressed as I don’t know what or that he calls out for them incessantly.
On this particular afternoon, as Carson was relishing his bottle, Pam rushed Beckett upstairs to his room for his nap. He was deliriously tired and needed to be put down before he harmed himself or the house. That was made clear when Pam found him sprawled out on a rug banging his head on the floor over and over again.
Unfortunately, in her haste to get our crazy toddler out of harm’s way, Pam left The Doodlebops on the television for my viewing pleasure. Since my hands were full with a hungry baby, I felt like I was being tortured while watching this show.
There I found myself enthralled with how ridiculous it was when I could have been watching Tiger hurl expletives all over Augusta, Ga. at the Masters golf tourney.
Instead of getting the latest on the best golf event of the year, I observed a girl dressed in a bizarre pink costume with red shoes dance across a tennis court while singing perhaps the most annoying melody ever.
These are the types of moments when you realize just how much your life has changed with kids in the picture, particularly considering I didn’t get up and stop the video until it was over, for some reason.
Some odd things happen around my house between the hours of midnight and 6 a.m.
For the last couple weeks, Beckett has been waking up in the middle of the night crying his head off. It’s not every night, but at least four nights a week. There’s really no explanation, but he’s typically easily comforted back to sleep in a matter of minutes.
It’s probably some type of nightmare that’s rattled him temporarily. A couple nights ago, at 2 a.m., we woke up to him crying and running back and forth in his crib like a mad man. As soon as I walked into his room, he immediately stopped, fell face first to his mattress and quickly went back to sleep. I never had to touch him. It was the oddest thing.
Fortunately, I share that ability to quickly fall back asleep and apparently have some strange dreams myself. At least twice within the last week, I can remember jumping out of bed, leaving our bedroom and heading to the kids’ rooms to find them at peace.
It seems I dreamed one or both were crying and sprung out of bed to see what was up. It’s unexplainable, but it’s worth pointing out my wife has found me in the shower at 3 in the morning getting ready to go to work on a couple occasions as well. I blame these odd developments on being a parent. No other explanation makes sense nor provides any comfort.
A strange request came from Pam this week. She asked that I print a retraction from last week’s article.
It seems I was not exactly on point with my description of the boys’ Easter outfits.
Normally, since this column provides a window into my family’s personal life, I give my wife a chance to look it over before it’s printed. She usually has no issues, aside from some requests to quit the dirty diaper talk when I obsess on that aspect of parenting, as I have tended over the last two years on occasion.
Last week, for some reason, she did not get the opportunity to give it a read, meaning I forgot to bring an advance copy home.
When she did get the chance to read this rambling after the paper was printed on Friday, she took umbrage at a few statements, resulting in a clear request for a correction.
“I want a retraction” was my greeting when I walked in the house on Friday afternoon.
To set the record straight, my wife insists that last year’s blazer Beckett donned on Easter was madras, not plaid. I am told there’s a huge difference.
Also, although my sons’ Easter outfits were not identical, they were color coordinated, and not by chance. A lot of forethought went into making that noticeable, apparently. It’s important for me to point out as well that the kids’ vest and sweaters this year featured resembling diamond argyle designs.
The topic of this year’s pants seemed to get under Pam’s skin the most. Beckett did not wear pinstripes, contrary to what I wrote last week. From my wife’s reaction, that’s ridiculously wrong. What I heard later after those other corrections were noted was – “and oh yeah, are you kidding me with the pinstripes?” I was subsequently informed he was not wearing a Yankees uniform, but sear-sucker trousers. Evidently, Carson was wearing sear-sucker overalls as well, and the idea was they would look similar. Unfortunately, that was lost on me.
Okay now that we are straight and that the fashion police have been called off, I sure hope I never write the words sear-sucker and argyle ever again.
