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…

To Oink or Not to Oink...

Word at the playground is that swine flu is sweeping Lovetown. No one’s had the H1N1 shot here at the funny farm…yet. Haven’t quite decided whether we’re going to go there. We’re vaccinators around here. It’s always made me slightly uneasy--it’s naturally a little nervewracking to voluntarily subject your little kid to something that could hurt him, even if the chances are incredibly slim. Plus they always give you those really scary handouts at the doctors office (talk about bad PR…). But I remain convinced that the risks of preventable childhood illnesses far outweigh any risks related to vaccination, and that the public health aspect can’t be overlooked. On a certain level I support people’s right not to vaccinate, but I must say it seems like a pretty selfish thing to do. I mean really, non-vaccinators are essentially relying on the fact that the rest of us do it to keep their kids from getting some potentially fatal illness. (You’re welcome guys). It seems like a pretty right wing-y kind of thing to do but it’s unfortunately become a part of the crunchy orthodoxy. This article in Wired laid it all out pretty well.

Anyway, we will continue to get the prescribed childhood vaccines because I think it’s the best thing for my kids and for society. And yet, there’s something about the H1N1 thing that makes me not want to rush out and get it. It seems like it was thrown together in a hurry, and I keep hearing about docs who say they won’t vaccinate their own kids. I’m skeptical of the effectiveness of the whole flu shot thing to begin with, and my anti-vaccine connections on facebook add to my unease.

However, my little sis, a pediatrician and mother whom I trust more than anyone else on this issue, says get it if you can. And so, in the end, we probably will. But my whole internal debate may be immaterial. My doctor’s office doesn’t have it yet and our local health department is already out, at least temporarily. I read somewhere that the Obama girls haven’t gotten theirs yet, so my kids can wait too. Meanwhile, we’ll be rocking the vitamin C--and vitamin D-rich cod liver oil. Should note that the fish oil thing is not popular with some of my vegetarian friends on FB (“Think about how many little livers go into one ounce of that stuff,” my old friend Betty recently implored). Sometimes you just can’t win.

Remembrances of Meatballs Past

My mother in law periodically gets a charitable urge and decides to unload a bunch of canned/processed food items from her pantry on us. The gestures are certainly kind but I must say her shopping choices confound me. She’s a die-hard proponent of processed food (one of my all time favorite betes noires). So all of a sudden, my kitchen is full of bizarre products I would never buy--baked beans, corned beef hash, canned pasta products and so on.

The other day, after the latest round came in, I had a bunch of cans sitting on the table while I made some room in the far corners of my cabinets (I have decided to make them into emergency rations in the event of some kind of bioterrorist attack). Hank, who I am proud to say, has never eaten ravioli (or anything else of that nature) from a can, immediately zeroed in on the Chef Boyardee pasta with meatballs and asked to have that for a snack. (I asked him about the choice and he said it was based on the guy in the funny hat on the front—clearly their cheesy marketing is right on target). OK…I grew up in the 70s and we ate our share of spaghetti-o’s and didn’t mutate or anything. So I gave in. Really, what is one HFCS, MSG, sodium laden can of GMO pasta and hormone treated beef going to hurt? The boy and I split the can. He ate his bowl right away. I found it mushy, cloying, but not entirely unpleasant. However, the madeleine-style 1977 flashback I was hoping for did not occur—just a mild case of indigestion.

A Little Reality Check

I have pretty much avoided posting photos of my children on this blog. For one thing, I suppose I prefer the false sense of security on facebook. For another, showing off my cute kids is not really what this space is about for me.

However, a conversation I had with an old friend during my recent (fabulous) trip to New York has inspired me to lay this one on y’all.This friend was giving me updates on a few of his former colleagues whom I had known (through him) during my years in the big city. One friend of his, a lovely woman about my age (that would be late 30s last time I checked), married an American guy who owns a vineyard in Tuscany. I didn’t know this woman well, but enjoyed catching up with her a bit at our mutual friend’s wedding last year, after which she sent me a friend request on facebook. She doesn’t seem to get on much except to post occasional photos of her (apparently) amazing life in Italy (handsome husband, beautiful young daughter, nice vacations etc).

My friend says that while her life is undoubtedly fabulous and all, he gets the sense that she often feels isolated out there amongst the vines and has trouble connecting with other women. Hmmm….sound familiar? Now, that is not to say that Tuscany has anything in common with exurban hell. But still, it got me thinking.

After that conversation, it occurred to me that if someone I didn’t know very well were to evaluate my life based on the pictures I post on facebook, he or she would be given the impression that my life is a piece of cake. (Beautiful kids, nice scenery etc.). So, I decided to take a few pics that more accurately reflected the day-to-day situation. As in screaming child covered with snot and hummus. Eat your heart out Carla B.

All Carla All the Time

It’s been Bee Zee around here this fall so have had no time to indulge my enduring girlcrush on Carla Bruni. Didn’t even catch a single picture of her and Michelle in Pittsburgh. But my days of Carla deprivation are officially over : I can now keep up with her comings and goings thanks to her new website (launched yesterday). She already has a site dedicated to her singing career-- this one covers her activities as France’s first lady, AIDS activism and her foundation which (according to the new site) is focused on bringing access to the arts to low income kids.

Surprisingly, the new site made it to the top of the leftwing Libération website, where reader comments ranged from indifferent to mildly disgusted. The lefties are so over her over there. I’m no fan of Sarko and would love to hate her myself but just can’t break the spell.