Sorry I haven’t been posting as often lately. I’d say it’s because I’m so busy with the kids (which is true), but truth be told, it’s more because we finally got … dun dun dun… Netflix.
I’d be there at the computer after the tykes were in bed, about to get my cartoon on, only to have Hubs show up in the doorway with a telltale raised eyebrow that can only mean one thing: House of Cards.
Aww yeah. Twist my rubber arm. I decide that I’ll cartoon tomorrow.
I read a Today’s Parent article lately saying that the modern-day “date night” for parents of young kids is binge-watching series on Netflix. Man, that sounds horrribly lame, and so very accurate. Many weekends, anyway. What! Don’t judge! They can’t all be sushi-and-babysitter Saturday nights!
It’s getting us in trouble, though. Before Netflix, we’d watch our one measly episode of Big Bang Theory and turn in at a sensible hour. Now, this is what happens:
Thanks to that genius countdown-to-the-next-episode approach they have, you don’t even have to press a button to keep watching. You just have to not act fast enough, or at all, which is easy when you sit down for the first time all day and get fused to the couch. That, plus the intriguing synopsis of the next episode, makes it near impossible to have any sort of discipline.
So then, before we know it, it’s after midnight. Again. Dammit.
What were we thinking? We love sleep! We know what it’s like to go without it, and kids have more energy than us on a good day! And the first one will be up in five hours! At least one of us will suffer!
So there we are the next day; kids full of beans, parents full of regret.
Gone are the days when all it took was an Egg McMuffin and a coffee to recover after a big night. And also, gone are the days when ‘big night’ meant a bit more of a wild time than 4 episodes of Orange is the New Black with chips and guacamole.
Oh man, that sounds awesome. Is it Friday yet?
We recently decided with some fellow parent-friends that someone needs to invent a parental control that automatically kicks us parents off at a certain time and sends us to bed for our own good, to avoid the binge-watching hangover. A Netflix Nanny, if you will, for grown-ups.
OK, I think I’ve made my 20-year-old self die of embarrassment enough for now. Time to catch up on our programs.