Tackling the Tube

By Lianne Wyatt

      I did something radical this week. I was afraid at first, dreading the inevitable backlash that comes from making an unpopular decision. I knew it was bound to get worse before it got better but there comes a time in your life when you just have to turn a deaf ear to the wails of protest, defy temptation and resolutely point yourself toward the road less traveled. I summoned my strength and I turned off the T.V.

At first my family – mostly my kids – just stared at me in stunned disbelief. "But, why?" they asked, their eyes glazing over as puddles of tears threatened to spill down their cherub-like cheeks. I felt like the Grinch. "Because," I explained reasonably, "we don't need to watch T.V. all the time." "Yes we do," they countered. I revised my strategy. "Too much T.V. makes your brain get lazy," I said, "and we can't have that!" I was assaulted with a barrage of heartfelt, if not convincing reasons why brains were highly overrated. But I stood my ground. "We are not watching T.V. right now," I offered, trying to make the situation more palatable by framing it in the context of a temporary course of action and not the arbitrary whim of a sadistic dictator that they, no doubt, perceived it to be. The look of contempt in their eyes told me that I could frame it anyway I wanted, but I wasn't fooling them. I was mean and they knew it.

Okay, so the T.V. was off. Now what? An eerie silence descended on the room as the children moved aimlessly around. I tried to retreat, unnoticed, into the kitchen hoping that they would take the necessary steps to amuse themselves, but children are like wild animals – they smell fear! They were being forced to suffer and they meant to make me suffer right along with them. Fingers crept over my limbs like tendrils, whining permeated the air like an air raid siren and a feeling of frustrated hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me. I called other adults for support. "Are you nuts?" I heard. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" they asked. And from one true friend, in a hushed and admiring tone, "You're brave". I strengthened my resolve. My children would not have lazy brains.

"Why don't you play something?" I suggested. They stared at me blankly as though I had suddenly taken up a foreign tongue. I spoke slowly. "You know, together." I have never seen such befuddlement over something that seemed so straightforward. How had it come to this, I wondered? They were children, for heaven's sake. They are supposed to know how to play together. We did it when we were kids. It's the reason we had so many children – so they could play together. I could see that I was going to have to take action.

I shelved my list of 'things to do' and broke out the crayons. "Let's color!" I chirped enthusiastically. They were unmoved. "Or you could tidy up the playroom," I suggested, pulling rank. Suddenly the thought of coloring became much more appealing to them. I watched as it happened, slowly but surely, there amidst the array of Crayola paraphernalia, their hostility began to dissipate and for a brief shining moment, we were T.V. free – and happy!

It didn't last long, of course. Idyllic moments never do. Before long, the serenity of the scene was shattered as abruptly as a Norman Rockwell plate hitting ceramic tile. Cooperation disintegrated into chaos and children scattered to the four winds. I was left alone crayon in hand, savoring my success. I sat quietly and listened to the commotion. It was glorious. They were playing. With each other. As a mother I felt a twinge of pride. I had defeated the dragon that lives in my living room. Its magical spell was broken, if only for a moment.

Of course, this isn't the kind of challenge I'm up for everyday. Doing the right thing can be very exhausting! Perhaps I'll content myself with letting the kids watch less television. My to-do list could withstand being shelved more often and there's always a sale on Crayola products somewhere. Those idyllic moments may be few and far between but they're worth holding out for. After all, those are the moments childhood memories are made of.