Queen of the Remote - by Sally Hetherington

Back to features

I am sitting writing this on the couch, computer on my lap (don't worry, my husband makes sure I put a cushion under the laptop to protect my fertility and all that, although what I need my fertility for after two kids I don't know, but I digress…) with the first game of the Rugby World Cup on the TV. Yes, as the dedicated wife, you would think I would actually be watching. I hear the odd comment from my hubby next to me, am told to look up at the bloody face, but more than that? Well maybe when South Africa plays I might actually keep my eyes on the screen for a few minutes, provided I am plied with beer (Peroni mind you, not just something cheap and nasty) and chips, but honestly, the last time I really followed rugby was when Corne was captain and Bobby was the flavour of the day… and the Stormers actually won a few matches… It's going to be a long four weeks.

But you would think that after nearly four years of motherhood, I would be used to having the TV monopolised. In the first few years of marriage, I allowed my husband to think he was in control. But he has come to respect the fact that she who has the remote, rules the household. Gilmore Girls versus Two Wheels? Forget it Babe, the lives of Rory and Lorelai are FAR more important, and interesting (have you ever watched Two Wheels ? It's mind numbing). Desperate Housewives versus Top Gear? No contest (although I don't mind watching a bit of Richard Hammond every now and then…). And as for Seventh Heaven versus The Long Way Round? Okay, sorry all you many many irritatingly perfect Camdons… nothing beats Ewan MacGregor… on a bike… in a bike suit. Oh dear, I'm losing control of the remote! Although I had to laugh the other day when my husband asked if I was going to record Brothers & Sisters while we went out to the movies!  

Okay so maybe a bit hairy at the end... but still, it's Ewan...

[Oops… apparently my lack of rugby mania is going to be a problem. My husband just left the room for about 37 seconds and they scored a try… and I was paying absolutely no attention. After all, I have a newsletter to get out!]

But back to the remote control issue. Yes, I had control over it… until Megan turned two. It was a gradual process. After all, I swore I would never be one of those mums who relied on the TV to babysit. So yes, the odd Teletubbies DVD, and maybe an episode of Barney. No KTV or Cartoon Network for my impressionable little girl. Nosiree. That was then. While KTV and Cartoon Network are still banned (have you ever actually watched some of that stuff? It's pretty scary!), Megan is the firm holder of the remote control. In other words, ruler of the house. The first words when she wakes up are “Mommy I want CeeBeeBees!” And when she gets home from school? “Mommy I want a DVD.” When I was her age there was no such thing as satellite television or DVD's! And I certainly didn't ask my mom to “please push pause” if I quickly wanted to go to the toilet. But it can't be all bad right? I mean, I can't be the only mom who knows the entire Big Cook Little Cook theme song (with actions)? And know that Roly Mo comes straight after, followed by Binka and Teletubbies…


Nobody puts Baby in the corner...
  But I have a secret weapon. The one she doesn't know about. I call it… PVR: “Personal Video Recorder”. I can set and record to my heart's content. I can watch the “Nobody puts Baby in the corner” scene from Dirty Dancing over and over! I can record movies that my husband would never submit his testosterony male eyes to… The Notebook, Memoirs of a Geisha, and yes, Dirty Dancing! And I can even record all those cooking shows I never get to watch: Jamie, Ainsley, Gordon, James, and other James (the cute Irish one… no the other cute Irish one)… and then those cool MTV specials that take me back to my teenage years… Rock Top Ten, Rock Weekend, Hits of the 90's… Now if only I could find five
minutes in the day to get past Baby being in the corner and having the time of her life (and doing the cool lift at the end that we all practiced in the pool with our friends!)

But I know what will happen when I finally find those five minutes. I will settle back on the couch, cup of tea in one hand, remote in the other, and hit “Playlist”… Barbie & the 12 Dancing Princesses, Finding Nemo, Tigger's Big Movie, Madagascar, Shark Tale… wait I see a pattern emerging. And so I realise, my place as holder of the remote, queen of the house, has forever been usurped… I will meekly put the remote back, waiting for its rightful owner to take possession, and I return back to my domain… after all, those bottles are not going to wash themselves...

© Sally Hetherington .

Back to features