Talking trash – my guilty pleasure

I have a guilty secret to confess. I have a bit of an addiction to trashy novels, films and television. Not quite as bad as it could be – I find EastEnders, Hollyoaks and the like just too too depressing – but certainly nothing educational like The Man chooses to watch (not sure I could include his superhero film fetish in the ‘educational’ category, mind, no matter how much he insists it teaches inherent moral truths…).

If I’m kicking back with a book then chances are I’ll pick something from the Chick Lit genre – Katie Fford is a particular favourite – if it’s TV then something along the family comedy drama lines – Gilmore Girls and Gavin & Stacey have both been watched through more than once – and when it comes to films then it’s either Rom Coms or musicals.

Please don’t see this as a reflection on my intelligence. Occasionally I pick up some of the classics – 19thC female authors usually, although I like Hardy also – but mostly what I’m looking for is total escapism. I find it hard to turn y brain off and, whilst I’m sure that soething like meditation would help, I prefer to numb the outside world with the cultural equivalent of bubble gum – tasty, but no substance. Have you got a guilty pleasure?

The great TV ban – or why I cut off my nose to spite my own face

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I recently had a baby.  Nine weeks ago our daughter came into this world and has made our lives richer in so many ways and (so far) our three year old son is also one of her fan club.

But (and there’s always a ‘but’, isn’t there?) he has not been unaffected by her arrival.  For several weeks previous to the birth, and in the nine weeks since, he has been horrifically violent – to almost everyone but the baby.

Now, a good part of this is undoubtedly just being three. The sheer ‘three-ness’ of a three year can be horrifying in itself (if you’ve had one, you’ll understand what I mean. It is an animal unlike any other).  However, a good part of it was just so unlike his usually sweet nature that we, and his preschool, were taken aback. Biting, hitting with objects, pushing, shouting – he was like a mini Hulk.  Preschool blithely put it down to the impending arrival of his sister, but I wasn’t so sure.

Last week I suddenly decided that he had been watching too much TV. We spent a few days at my parents’ house, which made it easier to break the habit because it was a different environment and there were more people to help entertain him and when we got home I decided to make it a blanket ban through the week.  He didn’t go easily. Whingeing is already down to a fine art, as is nagging and determined-ness, but fortunately he hasn’t quite mastered all the ins and outs of the TV and as long as I leave it tuned to a radio station he’s stuffed!

Playing with Brio

Playing with Brio

Within a week his behaviour had calmed down. He rediscovered his beloved Brio (and associated cheap knock-offs). He found it easier to get to sleep at night and was more likely to use his words instead of lashing out.  I’m not sure why the TV had such a profound effect on him, it’s not like he was watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or anything – I really doubt Mr Bloom and the veggies could incite a toddler to violence (not the same for parents, but that’s another post entirely!) but it is possible that all that passive mental stimulation got him worked up without tiring him mentally and definitely without tiring him physically.  I’ll have to do some reading up, but he has never watched so much TV as he did whilst I was exhausted from pregnancy and after Modom arrived, we may have kept using the digital babysitter more than was good for him.

We’re blessed, where we live, to have all sorts of outdoor entertainments within easy reach – most of them free. From several good playgrounds to a splash park, toddler groups, parks and open spaces and a steam railway to wooded walks, forest school, minibeasts, art groups and messy play. I am glad the weather is mild (mostly) and dry (on the whole) as I am  trying to make the most of these opportunities to wear out his body and his brain at the same time.  If the weather is really foul we either waterproof up and brave it anyway (baby in sling to keep warm) or try and do something ‘improving’ at home, like baking or colouring or pretend play.  It’s hard bloody work, but that’s why childminders get paid – because actively engaging with children like this is a fulltime job.

So, although I am now relied upon for entertainment far more than previously – and just as I have another small person needing my attentions – I am still glad that we have reduced the part TV plays in our life down to one or two special programmes at the weekend – which we all sit down and watch together.  I hated seeing my boy hitting and hurting others, very little makes you feel as ashamed as that, except, possibly, knowing it was parking them in front of the telly that exacerbated it.

Lesson learned… until next time. Because if there’s one thing we can be sure of as parents, it’s that we’re learning just as much as our children are, just maybe not as fast!