We have no video games or hand held electronic games in our house. Zero. None. Nadda. Nothing.
Actually, that's not completely true. We have a little box you can plug into the t.v. to play Pac Man. My kids only source of video game entertainment is a game I played 25 years ago.
Ya...I’ll just give you a second to let that one sink in.
*whistling, tapping fingers on desk*
Typically when I tell other mother’s this, I get one of two reactions.
Shock and Awe: How do you survive?
Solidarity: You go girl!
For the record, my solidarity sisters usually have video games. I have yet, in fact, to run into another mother who doesn't have a either a video game or personal gaming devices for their kids. If I did, I'd hug her, then grab her by the shoulders and shake while screaming...Why? I need to know why you chose not to, too!
Because it's not like I set out to be a video game free house, it just sort of happened. When Son No. 1 was younger, he showed no interest in video games and because Son No. 2 will do whatever Son No. 1 does, Son No. 2 had no interest either.
Then Son No. 1 hit grade 2 and as the year progressed suddenly realized all the friends in his class had video games. This culminated in a frowny, foot stompin’ walk home from school one day where he proclaimed “I’m the only one in my class without a Wii”
Yep, I replied, pinning on my World’s Meanest Mother Badge, you’re probably right. And just to ensure my top status, I added in....here’s an idea. If you want to ride a bike, how about you go outside and ride a bike instead of pretending to do it on a video game.
I know, I rock don’t I? There’s reasons why I never make their high point of the day list.
That Christmas I gave the kids the option – individual gifts like we usually do or a video game for the family.
Much to my surprise, they chose individual. This, of course, has not stopped them from complaining they don’t have a video game three to five times a week, every week since then.
So you’re probably wondering what we do instead of video games. Let’s see....there’s adventure walks, then there’s this and of course these.
Yesterday we played library in Son No. 2’s room.
Plus there’s always the old standby Lego. Lots and lots of Lego. Personally I think every box of lego should come with Tylenol for the parents. But that’s just me.
I'm not gonna lie, doing this stuff takes up a lot of my time. Time when I could be, I dunno, showering or sleeping.
My kids aren’t completely electronic device deprived. This summer they discovered the wonderful world of Club Penguin and for a mere $5.95 a month, I found myself the perfect nanny.
So why am I telling you all of this?
Because I’m wavering.
Wavering!
Fack.
I’m sort of feeling bad that every single one of their friends has some sort of video gaming device and they don’t.
But then I waver back the other way and think, well shit...they’ve gotten this far without one and it’s not like they don’t get to play anything. We’ve got three computers in this house, they have access to Club Penguin pretty much any time they want.
Then I waver back because I think....I wonder how much time I’d have to myself if I got them a video game.
Don’t judge. I'm just saying your thought bubbles out loud.
So here I am, riding the waves of wavering and wondering what I should do. And Christmas is just around the corner.
To video game or not to video game, that is the question.
Addendum: Thanks to everyone who left a comment. There were two things that really helped me make a video game decision - Emma who used the weed/crack analogy and my friend who shouted out to me in the school parking lot "Don't Do It!!"
Right now, neither of the boys is really clamouring for a video game - but when they get older and start going to their friends' houses just to play, that's when I'm going to go out and by the best freakin' video game out there - so my house will be the ones kids come to - as Emma so succinctly put it - I will be the house with crack when all the others have weed.
Also, a special shout-out to @Chris_Eh_Young who also pointed out that his Wii calls him fat.
My kids smacking my ass to make it jiggle is enough for me thankyouverymuch.
"
I’m just gonna put it out there.
I HATE school field trips.
I was going to write I HATE “expletive” field trips but realized I’m so tired from supervising said “expletive” field trip, I couldn’t think of where to put the comma in order to keep you from reading that sentence as me doing some sort of pervy shit to field trips instead just really really not liking them.
It’s the age old Verb vs. Adjective dilemma.
In no particular order, this is what I hate about field trips:
The bus with no seatbelts, shocks or way to dispel the exhaust fumes
The noise
Sticky hands
Bad weather
Kids who won’t listen
Losing kids – especially those that aren’t mine
Kids who need to trek to the bathroom every 1.2 minutes
The lack of alcohol
And yet every single field trip, there I am filling out the permission form and checking off the YES! I’d LOVE to volunteer box.
Why?
Simply because my they ask me to.
They ask, so I do it.
My kids still occasionally let me hold their hands when we walk to school, I can kiss them on the head in public and give them hugs around their friends. We hang out in the evenings, play in the park and every summer, they choose to not go to summer camp because they still prefer to hang out with me.
So I play with them at the park - not always willingly, don’t send them to camp when I’m completely strung out trying to balance work and having them home, and volunteer for field trips even though I hate it.
Today on the field trip, we were all standing in the rain learning about owls when Son No. 2 suddenly broke from the pack, ran over and hugged me.
I want you to come on every field trip with me mummy he said with his face buried in my jacket, little arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
But I know better. I know there’s going to come a time when my boys stop holding my hand and shy away from my kisses, they’ll be clamouring to go to camp and think it’s way cooler to have some other mom on their field trip.
Chances are Son No. 2 will grow up and never remember this field trip. A mist covered memory in the back of his brain, the owls forgotten along with the hug.
But I won’t.
So I go.
I want you to listen very very closely as you read this blog. If you listen hard enough, I do believe you’ll hear Erica closing the door on letting me have free reign on my blog topics from this point forward.
Today I’m writing about poop.
And not my kids’ poop, mine.
About a month ago, I was asked to speak on a panel at Blissdom. My first reaction was panic, complete with heart palpitations and a flushed face. As the weeks passed and I did my research, wrote my notes and walked around the house talking out loud to myself, unfortunately the norm for me, I had convinced myself I was going to be Aaaay-okay *thumbs up Fonzerelli*
Unfortunately your body knows what your brain blocks. Thus, the diarrhea I developed the week of.
Bad diarrhea.
Like lose four pounds in four days bad. And, I might add, not conducive for sitting in a hot tub with a bunch of women I was meeting for the first time. Some who, for whatever strange reason, were excited to meet me. Clearly they have no inkling as to WHAT A DOOFUS I AM IN REAL LIFE. Like for reals.
My know-me-in-person friends will only be too glad to share the extent of my doofiness.
Like how I tell random Chevy Cruz drivers I have diarrhea. It’s not like I set out to do it, it’s that I’m lacking some sort of censorship button in my brain and it comes tumbling from my mouth before I’ve had a chance even think about it.
I am a woman who has diarrhea from both ends, people!
During the last Blissdom session, Building Your Brands and Beyond, Erica said at one point – just be yourself, if you’re a bitch, be a bitch but don’t apologize for it. This isn't verbatim - I tried to go back in the #BlissdomCanada tweets but after about 20 minutes I gave up, plus Erica is going to hit the word poop in the second line and stop reading so I don’t really have to worry about her getting to the part where I make up shit she said.
The point is….I’m not going to apologize for who I am. What you read on my blog and see on twitter is who I am – what you see is what you get. I’m a loyal friend, who works her ass off, I struggle with balance and occasionally, my kids drive me crazy. I like wine, I like to laugh and have the maturity level of a nine year old boy. If there’s an inappropriate joke to be made, I not only cross that line, I back up about 20 feet and then run like to hell to leap over it. I struggled with an eating disorder for 12 years and had post partum depression with both my kids - I got through both using humour. I want everyone to like me and feel sick when someone doesn’t. I'm patient and yet also bitchy. I can be crass and yes, I curse. There have been repercussions because of my blogging curses, and I chose to accept them.
I don’t apologize for any of it, I can’t. It’s who I am. If you’re going to like me, you’re going to like me for me…diarrhea included.
And if you don’t? You can kiss my….well, you know.
But it may be difficult. Chances are I'm sitting on a toilet.
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