Saturday, January 9, 2010

The TV Guy is Here!

     The girls had been complaining for a week that we had limited TV channels available to them. Somehow, about 30 channels disappeared. I really didn't care. I don't watch TV and try to limit my girls' TV viewing so I was actually rather happy to think I didn't have to monitor their TV time as closely. Lo and behold, Camille, my 12 year-old resourceful girl, called Roadrunner customer service to report the problem. By the time she handed the phone to me we were looking at scheduling a technician to come out to fix the problem. This Friday between 10 and 12. Alrighty then. I'll be home.
     Friday started out a little crazy. Tim had awoken late and woke me up at 5:45 am to make his breakfast. I keep meaning to get myself up at 5:30am  to exercise and then prepare his breakfast, but I haven't quite gotten inspired yet. I'm still waiting for the inspiration. Anyway, I got out of bed very groggy and tired, but wanting to start Tim's breakfast and find out what Chloe and Julia were up to. They were up, too. For the next hour, after Tim had left for work, I kept thinking, I really need to lay down for a little nap. I'm sooo sleepy." Alhtough I did rest on the couch for a bit while the girls were doing their chores, I never really did sleep. I was just groggy and dragging around.
     Nonetheless, I started the girls on their school work and the morning began. A couple of minutes to 10:00 am I heard some commotion at the door and Daisy called out, "The TV Guy is here!" To which I replied while walking into the the dining room, "Daisy, you're not supposed to open the front door without me, Elena, or Camille being with you." I greeted the TV Guy. "Hello TV Guy! Come in."
     My living room was a total disaster. There were outdoor patio stools that my sister had given me a week ago and Tim felt that they should be in the living room - next to the Christmas tree that still hadn't been taken down. Of course, we had just gotten a newer refrigerator into our kitchen that we had been given earlier in the week and the parts were still here and there. What a disaster.

     At any rate, TV Guy goes to the back room to look at the TV. "Where's the remote?" he asks me.
     "Oh boy. That could be a problem. We have remote control issues. Half the time the batteries fall out or the TIVO remote gets lost.  It's a cause for celebration when they finally find it jammed between the couch cushions - again." Anyway, we managed to figure out the right remote and TV Guy began to work on diagnosing the problem of the missing TV channels.
     However, just minutes before he rang I had told one of my daughter's that they wouldn't be able to attend a certain function and she was beside herself- wailing LOUDLY in the bedroom. Julia had awoken from a nap -early, of course - about 10 minutes prior to the TV Guy's arrival and had made her way into the kitchen. She was eating with her hands Daisy's unfinished peach yogurt. So TV Guy and I are looking at our TV and he's trying to explain what might be the problem when I see Julia walk in with peach yogurt slime all down the front of her outfit. Ewww...TV Guy  fiddles with cables near the TV while I bring Julia to the sink to wash her hands and change her outfit. I remind Chloe to finish coloring her bear picture, instruct Daisy to keep picking up her felt pieces, and tell Leanne to get back to work on her math. Then TV Guy says, "It looks like someone played with the buttons down here and mixed up all of the channels."
     I reply, "In this house? No way! I can't believe it! Chloe, get back to your picture, Daisy finish picking up your felt pieces, Leanne get back to your school work. So - what do we do about that?" TV Guy goes to work fixing the messed up channels and I go to the kitchen to sit Julia down for a proper snack when the wailing child comes in to argue her case about wanting to go to that certain activity. "You may not go because I think it's too much activity for you. You get too overwhelmed and overstimulated and then it takes you days to recuperate."
     "But I promise, I won't do that. I'll be fine. Pleeeeease!"
     "No! I'm not going to discuss this right now."
     TV Guy walks in as I'm having this intense conversation with my daughter. "Was there another TV you wanted me to look at?" I hesitate. That TV is in my bedroom. My bedroom has boxes of books from Christmas (gifts I have to sort through and boxes of Tim's textbooks that had to be located out of the dining room for holiday parties and dinner guests.) It was a disaster. I dreaded the TV Guy seeing my bedroom. The girls mentioned that he should probably have a look at that TV, too. Just in case. I point the way to the bedroom and follow behind him. Several girls follow me and as he turns on the TV - Nickelodeon comes on, of course - my girls start jumping on the bed. "We get to watch TV! Yoo-hoo!"
     "Girls! Get off my bed! Chloe - finish your picture. Daisy - finish picking up your felt pieces and Leanne - FINISH your math!" I march them out of my room and shortly after TV Guy comes out. "It looks like everything is just fine with that TV in the bedroom. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
     "Can you take a couple of kids with you?" TV Guy smiles and says, "Oh no. I have a couple of my own."
     "Are you sure?"
     I really needed a nap later that day. I said "NO" to a play date that looked promising for the girls because I was too tired to work out the details. My bed and pillow were calling to me. Sometimes a mother's got to do what a mother's got to do. My nap felt great - although it was interrupted by the neighbor girls coming in to our house to play -even though I don't allow play dates while I'm napping. Well, my nap was shortly over. What a day! Now I'm wondering: What was TV Guy's actual name?!


Morgan said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
SoccerMom said...

I remember those days. Too freakin funny. Now my kids are teens and I hardly see them. Enjoy it all while you can.

dietcokegrrl said...

I can so relate!! Glad to know others have the similar things happen.