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Those rainy TV days…

1
Yesterday was a bad-parenting day. I was hung-over. It was raining. I tried to think up interesting activities. I made some soup and my daughter helped by covering the floor in water. She rubbed Play doh into the new sofa as I checked my phone to see what other parents were up to (apparently long healthy walks, crafts, making kale flapjacks etc.).

There was a voice in my head telling me I was a bad parent. The voice was louder than usual. Basically I had to turn the TV up full blast in order to drown it out.

On tired bad weather days, the TV exerts

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a heavy pull. It lurks in the background like a seedy flasher on Clapham Common. I try to offer it up in small bursts, saving it up my sleeve for moments when we run out of options. I switch it on when I feel like the plastic shit/mess/demands for ‘something to nibble on’ threaten to drive me mad. I switch it on so I can tidy up. I switch it on so I can sit down. A Zen like calm descends. It’s enough time for me to pick stuff up, make a cup of tea and feel a bit guilty.

My Mum had a very different attitude. My younger sisters grew up in the

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nineties and people didn’t think TV was too bad. As long as you weren’t watching sex or violence it was okay. They started the day with ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’. They watched Disney films back to back some afternoons. When they were teenagers we went on holiday to France and they spent the whole time watching a turgid Mel Gibson film (it was the only one in the DVD player so they played it on rotation).

‘I think TV is okay,’ my Mum said when I spoke to her recently, ‘And besides it’s a lovely bonding experience.’

‘Yeah but too

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much isn’t good either,’ I said.

‘It never did you or your sisters any harm,’ she said impatiently, ‘Your generation worry too much,’ (which is what she says whenever I’m in the midst of a parenting neurosis and she’s usually right).

Both of my sisters grew up to be fine people. They watch TV but no more than anyone else. They aren’t rabid zombies. And I don’t think they’d sit and watch Mel Gibson for an entire holiday.

I’m older than my sisters and grew up in the eighties when kids TV was still something of a novelty.

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You had a window from about three thirty to five when it was children’s TV and then after that it was all deadly boring. The TV was always on but I’d wander off to count ants, as it was more interesting than ‘Tomorrow’s World’. And BBC 2 was basically just men with beards talking about numbers.

One of the problems now is that children’s TV is on all the bloody time. We also have IPads and smart phones to contend with. I am fighting against different devices. So I say that the TV has run out of batteries. Or that the IPad is sleeping. Or

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that the phone is tired. But yesterday I let it all slide and our home was made up of screens. It shut out the grey drizzle and made such pretty lights. I sat in bed and took it all in. The voice in my head chanted bad parent, bad parent, bad parent.

I have a work colleague who doesn’t own a TV. He told me that he’d taught his three year old to speak Japanese in the time they probably would have spent watching Peppa Pig. Knowing the plot of Frozen won’t help my daughter when she’s competing with this Japanese speaking genius. It’s a

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competitive world out there. Should she be speaking Japanese already? Is there a Japanese Peppa Pig we can tune into perhaps?

But I’m no role model. I’m a TV addict born and bred. If you give me a choice between watching ‘Homeland’ or going out then I’ll always opt for the former. I get excited if there’s a new Sherlock on (but never understand what the hell is going on- did you see the New Years Day episode?).

And what’s happening whilst I write this you ask? Is my daughter making a cloth mobile from fuzzy felt whilst we rehearse the

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Japanese alphabet? No she’s sitting next to me on an IPad. She’s watching an advert for Play doh. It seems to be a strange brain-washing technique where toys are displayed by an Italian lady. My daughter looks up for a moment and says ‘I love adverts.’ I reply ‘Just five minutes though’.

We can’t be virtuous parents all the time can we?

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- 3 Jan 16

Yesterday was a bad-parenting day. I was hung-over. It was raining. I tried to think up interesting activities. I made some soup and my daughter helped by covering the floor in water. She rubbed Play doh into the new sofa as I checked my phone to see what other parents were up to (apparently long healthy walks, crafts, making kale flapjacks etc.).

There was a voice in my head telling me I was a bad parent. The voice was louder than usual. Basically I had to turn the TV up full blast in order to drown it out.

On tired bad weather days, the TV exerts a heavy pull. It lurks in the background like a seedy flasher on Clapham Common. I try to offer it up in small bursts, saving it up my sleeve for moments when we run out of options. I switch it on when I feel like the plastic shit/mess/demands for ‘something to nibble on’ threaten to drive me mad. I switch it on so I can tidy up. I switch it on so I can sit down. A Zen like calm descends. It’s enough time for me to pick stuff up, make a cup of tea and feel a bit guilty.

My Mum had a very different attitude. My younger sisters grew up in the nineties and people didn’t think TV was too bad. As long as you weren’t watching sex or violence it was okay. They started the day with ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’. They watched Disney films back to back some afternoons. When they were teenagers we went on holiday to France and they spent the whole time watching a turgid Mel Gibson film (it was the only one in the DVD player so they played it on rotation).

‘I think TV is okay,’ my Mum said when I spoke to her recently, ‘And besides it’s a lovely bonding experience.’

‘Yeah but too much isn’t good either,’ I said.

‘It never did you or your sisters any harm,’ she said impatiently, ‘Your generation worry too much,’ (which is what she says whenever I’m in the midst of a parenting neurosis and she’s usually right).

Both of my sisters grew up to be fine people. They watch TV but no more than anyone else. They aren’t rabid zombies. And I don’t think they’d sit and watch Mel Gibson for an entire holiday.

I’m older than my sisters and grew up in the eighties when kids TV was still something of a novelty. You had a window from about three thirty to five when it was children’s TV and then after that it was all deadly boring. The TV was always on but I’d wander off to count ants, as it was more interesting than ‘Tomorrow’s World’. And BBC 2 was basically just men with beards talking about numbers.

One of the problems now is that children’s TV is on all the bloody time. We also have IPads and smart phones to contend with. I am fighting against different devices. So I say that the TV has run out of batteries. Or that the IPad is sleeping. Or that the phone is tired. But yesterday I let it all slide and our home was made up of screens. It shut out the grey drizzle and made such pretty lights. I sat in bed and took it all in. The voice in my head chanted bad parent, bad parent, bad parent.

I have a work colleague who doesn’t own a TV. He told me that he’d taught his three year old to speak Japanese in the time they probably would have spent watching Peppa Pig. Knowing the plot of Frozen won’t help my daughter when she’s competing with this Japanese speaking genius. It’s a competitive world out there. Should she be speaking Japanese already? Is there a Japanese Peppa Pig we can tune into perhaps?

But I’m no role model. I’m a TV addict born and bred. If you give me a choice between watching ‘Homeland’ or going out then I’ll always opt for the former. I get excited if there’s a new Sherlock on (but never understand what the hell is going on- did you see the New Years Day episode?).

And what’s happening whilst I write this you ask? Is my daughter making a cloth mobile from fuzzy felt whilst we rehearse the Japanese alphabet? No she’s sitting next to me on an IPad. She’s watching an advert for Play doh. It seems to be a strange brain-washing technique where toys are displayed by an Italian lady. My daughter looks up for a moment and says ‘I love adverts.’ I reply ‘Just five minutes though’.

We can’t be virtuous parents all the time can we?

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I'm Super Editor here at SelfishMother.com and love reading all your fantastic posts and mulling over all the complexities of modern parenting. We have a fantastic and supportive community of writers here and I've learnt just how transformative and therapeutic writing can me. If you've had a bad day then write about it. If you've had a good day- do the same! You'll feel better just airing your thoughts and realising that no one has a master plan. I'm Mum to a daughter who's 3 and my passions are writing, reading and doing yoga (I love saying that but to be honest I'm no yogi).

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