…It is boring. We have been reading (Bu & I) The Plug-In Drug. I bought it to pass along to Papaw, but I’m sure it’ll be just as helpful to him as the stack of right-wing books of his that sat beside my shitter being ignored for several months. It’s fascinating, and validates my TV worry. So we have reinstated our no-tube-if-Molly’s-in-the-room-rule. She still watches (well, not actively) 20+ hours at the grandies’ each week. That seems kind of obscene now that I count it. She’s starting to watch it more intently, definitely. I don’t know what to do about reducing her screen time there; it’s a really ingrained habit in Papaw’s life. I think that having her in a loving family home instead of daycare outweighs the TV time, though.
I was feeling for Papaw yesterday, though. I was bored. The Bird was very fussy and wanted to be held constantly and nursed a lot. Would have been pretty fun to plop down in front of the Style Network and veg out. But when I do, and I see her zone into the commercials, it wigs me out. So we hung out, and it was OK. The adjustment from sort of worrying but watching anyway to zero TV is weird. It’s sort of disturbing to me to realize how much I depend on teh mindcrack. I also got really annoyed when Bu went upstairs to watch something and the baby and I were in another room for quite a while. Felt like he was picking TV over us, but he was just following my rule. As the Boue gets older and can play alone more, it’ll probably be cooler. I can read, sketch, whatever while she plays. Maybe actually be able to get housework done without her screaming with her little demanding hands up every single second.