Don't blame me--I'm TV free

Yet another confrontation with my cultural cluelessness via facebook the other day when a high school acquaintance put up an enthusiastic post about someone named Elizabeth Mitchell. Of course, I thought he was talking about the children’s folk singer, whom we are crazy about around here, but whose popular appeal, it would seem, in no way rivals that of the TV star he was talking about. As I have since learned from Wikipedia, Elizabeth Mitchell played the scheming doctor on Lost (now starring in the updated version of V--which of course I had no idea they were even doing…).

Why, you may ask, am I so out of it? Well for one thing, we are essentially TV free around here. When America went digital, we went dark. We decided to stick with our trusty old Panasonic and just say no to the converter box. Not that we were big TV viewers before the digital revolution… As a single person, I was always too busy working/having a good time to watch much television. I have also been consistently unwilling to pay for cable/satellite, preferring to spend my discretionary income on clothing and booze as a single person and on swim classes and Starbucks as a parent.

We’ve always only had one television, which is located in our bedroom and not in a common area, so it’s never just on the way the radio is sometimes on, as background noise. Now that we have no reception whatsoever, we use our set to watch dvds, mostly riveting material from the local library. We are, for example, currently struggling to stay awake through season one of The Tudors (not sure if it’s the time change or Sam Neill…). Henry gets to watch one dvd a day (two if I’m feeling antisocial) while Coco naps (this is, of course, is mostly to preserve my sanity). Colette, I am happy to say, does not really watch anything. We stick to the AAP recommendation that kids don’t watch television before age 2 (although I’m still not sure why there’s always a bloody Disney movie showing in my pediatrician’s office…).

I’m not necessarily anti-television per se. Christian and I actually wind up watching quite a bit of TV programming on dvd (I still miss Tony Soprano). I do have issues with advertising and am entirely grateful to be out of the loop on the latest in prostate health. I’m also determined to have television play a very small role in my kids’ lives (although I do have mixed emotions when I’m feeling bloggy and Hank declines to watch a video because he’d rather play Legos with me).

There are things I feel I’m missing out on (Californication, Nigella Lawson, Roger Federer…). People keep recommending hulu, but our problem is that (since we have an analogue set) we’d have to sit on hard chairs in the kitchen in front of our iMac—no thanks. We recently inherited a converter box from my in-laws who are once again on the cutting edge of technology, having picked up a flatscreen from Costco. I have a feeling we'll eventually cave and install the thing before the 2010 World Cup. Gotta watch the French team cheat its way to victory--n’est-ce pas?

From Brussels with Love

Took the kids to see my in-laws the other day, and we wound up going home with a bunch of frozen foods, including a bag of Brussels sprouts. As you might have guessed, I don’t have much to say in favor of frozen veggies (except for peas and edamame but that’s another story). But I was tickled to read on the package that they actually came from Belgium... Anyway, I’m kind of a Brussels sprout aficionado, and those lovely green globes are one of my very favorite things about winter. They must be fresh of course. And roasted, never boiled (the sign of an affluent society according to Claude Lévi-Strauss). I roast them in the oven with olive oil and a little salt for everyday and with bacon and chestnuts for holidays. They are tender and slightly chewy with a fabulous nutty flavor and have very little in common with the sorry, mushy excuse for a vegetable that comes out of the freezer.

Because this question has come up, I’ll take this opportunity to mention that my Petits Choux handle doesn’t have anything to do with Brussels sprouts (choux de Bruxelles). It refers to my kids and translates as “little sweeties”, as in pâte à chou (puff pastry), not cabbages or Brussels sprouts which are not particularly sweet. They are however pretty darn cute.

Beauty is a Beast

Coco had a second-hand bee costume going on for Halloween, but I’m starting to think I should have given her a bow and arrow and called her an Amazon from Hell. She’s a big, gorgeous, rowdy toddler and is kind of turning into a playground ruffian. She’s picked up some bad practices from her brother and has started pushing other kids around in social settings. She’s clearly not trying to be mean—in fact, I’m pretty sure it’s her way of expressing her affection (she only smacks around the kids she likes).

For the most part, the parents we associate with have been pretty cool about it. She had a hilarious brawl with a little beauty named Ava at a little party we went to earlier this fall (2 toddlers battling over a five-year-old hipster’s Davy Crockett-style coonskin cap). Coco gave Ava a shove and Ava returned fire with a poke in the eye. The other mom laughed it off, the girls moved on pretty quickly, and a good time was had by all.

There was an uptight mom at the library with an expensively dressed 14-month-old (late 30s/early 40s mom; little girl with last name as first name) who seemed a little put out when Co gave her kid a friendly shove (the kid was unfazed). I have a neighbor who’s the overprotective first-time parent of a tiny, sedate, porcelain-skinned creature who, it’s hard to believe, is only a few months younger than Co (she seems like another species altogether). The mom seems nice, but I’m afraid to call her for a meetup because I’m afraid my little bruiser might break her kid.

Anyway, she really is a sweet, well-adjusted child—just a little wild at times. And I don’t want her to get a rep around town at the tender age of (not quite) two. Of course, my underlying concern is always that Coco’s aggressive behavior is going to be attributed to bad parenting. Really, I’m doing my best here. I’m on it every time something happens with stern admonishments, time outs etc. But I’m fairly sure it’s just a phase, and I don’t want to make too much of a big deal about it. Anyway, there’s really not much I can do about it except make her a prisoner in her own home (in which case the same fate would apply to me). So for now, we need to be around rough and tumble kids and laid back parents. If you find any, let me know…