cat named pig

Looking at Twitter, I see that Matt and I both mentioned No TV Week this morning, within about five minutes of each other. I twittered about it before I had even had a cup of coffee today. That should give you some idea of the impact it’s having on our formerly peaceful little household.

Let’s back up. You might be wondering: what is No TV Week? And how much TV are these kids accustomed to watching, that they can’t give it up for a week without freaking the ever-loving heck out?

No TV Week is Siena’s preschool’s version of “National Turn-Off Tune-In Week,” a fascist plot decent-on-the-surface movement to make people examine their TV viewing habits. I say “decent-on-the-surface” because, in theory, I agree with them. Americans watch too much TV. Kids watch too much TV. Commercials create false desire and people watch TV instead of communicating with each other, which is sad, and eat junk food while watching, which is unhealthy.

But here’s the thing. My kids don’t watch too much TV. (For the most part. Sometimes they do. I am not made of magic here.) They don’t watch TV with commercials. They don’t watch TV during meals, or in place of any quality family time.They watch two PBS cartoons (one hour total) each morning. They watch the first one while Matt showers and heads to work and I eat breakfast and drink a pot of coffee. Then I either a) load the dishwasher and get ready to go to the gym or b) take my shower and get ready for the day during the second cartoon. An hour of TV is an intrinsic part of our morning routine. Depending on what time they start watching, they might even learn something. I’ve heard both of them yelling out alphabet letters during “Super Why” (”Super Y?”).

And, being kids, they love their routine. LOVE IT. Don’t want to mess with it, unless puppies and waterslides are involved. So I knew this wasn’t going to go over well when I saw the “homework assignment” from preschool. In addition to keeping the TV off for a week, we have to fill out a worksheet with drawings and descriptions of what we did instead. I’m sure the teachers would love to see things like “read lots of books” or “built a replica of the White House, complete with the First Family and Bo the Dog, out of popsicle sticks.”

Unfortunately, Siena is going to have to turn in a sheet depicting all of us screaming and fighting with each other. Maybe she will draw the time-out she was put in today, or the way she stomped into room and slammed the door yesterday. Maybe she will phonetically spell out some of the words I muttered while waiting for the coffee to brew during her time-out today. (I hope not. That would be embarrassing. Especially if it said “wirst fa-king idee-ya EVER” or something. I’m just sayin’. Not made of magic.)

No TV Week is probably going to end with somebody calling Child Protective Services, or with me telling my mom it’s a good thing she has that extra queen-sized bed in her new condo — I’m moving in with her.