As part of Netflix’s Stream Team, I get to bring you the scoop each month on the newest, brightest, biggest, and late-nightest of their exceptional programming. Stay tuned for next week’s recap of my recent trip to Los Angeles…because I’ve got deets about Fuller House, Degrassi, Daredevil, and that time I ate a weirdly big sandwich in front of Ashton Kutcher.
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It’s a new year, people. (It’s actually almost a new month, people, but 2016 is gonna be all about forgiveness and not harping on tardiness. I’m a good person in so many other ways, you guys.)
Here’s what else I’m working on for 2016:
How Netflix will make me a better mother (a work in progress)
Daniel Tiger’s mother is an unfathomable well of infinite patience. I am not (yet) even a shot glass of infinite patience. (Although there are days/mornings where a shot of tequila would certainly Zen me out, you know what I mean?) Even when Mom Tiger’s favorite vase gets smashed by an errant trolley, she sits beside her feline offspring and talks about everybody’s feelings. I’m pretty sure she even asked the vase what its heart was telling it to do. To compare: The other day I snapped at my two-year old when he asked for breakfast. It was 9 a.m. He had been awake since 6. I want to be like Mom Tiger and feed my children within an hour of wakey-time. If I could manage even a bar of an uplifting song to accompany said meal, I think that would also go over really well.
Psych has taught me so many things. So many things. Like, confusing a perp with song lyrics can buy you a tiny bit of extra time! Making a pun out of your (or someone else’s!) name is always funny! But most importantly: if you sell it just right, you can make anyone believe anything. Why is bedtime an hour early tonight? Oh, it isn’t! The microwave clock is just- strangely- incorrect. Beep boop boop! Problem solved! (Listen, even when I feel like a terrible Mom, I take solace in the fact that…my kids don’t know anything outside our family’s sphere of parenting. So when you compare me to nothing else, I look pretty great! Unless they’re taking a gander at Mom Tiger. Damn her!)
“Let me tell you about Mom. If that IS even her real name.”
Penny, Inspector Gadget’s niece, is allowed- even encouraged- to make use of company vehicles and the like. I’ve been known to freak out if my kids open the door by themselves. (“Why do I hear the door chime? Why is the door chiming? Do I need to set the actual alarm? Stop touching the door, you guys.”) Now, I’m not saying that Gadget is the bastion of mindful child-rearing, but maybe I could be a little more jetpack-permitting on a day to day basis. (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Maybe I’ll start by letting them pour their own water from the Brita filter. Into the lightweight plastic cups. The cheap ones.)
Oh, piracy. Jake, Izzy, Cubby, and the rest of the Neverland Pirates rely on the traditional pirate laws of…teamwork, friendship, and good deeds. (Wait, what?) Oh, sure, make me the bad guy by explaining that pirates aren’t usually the good ol’ Coast Guard, Neverland. So my lesson here is that maybe- just maybe- I need to ease up on traditional job descriptions and expectations. Besides, if a Saint Bernard can be a nanny, then I can totally leave my kids with the tamale vendor for like an hour…right?
And since we all need a bit of positive reinforcement, I binge-watch Archer to feel like a really, really good member of society. Did I spend an hour crafting a tower with my son out of fair-trade cedar blocks? Not even a little bit. But did I contemplate leaving my son in the hands of the Russians while drinking a truckload of vodka atop my desk? Not today, anyhow! And sure, an animated spy spoof mightn’t be up there with- say- Dr. Spock in terms of parenting expertise, but 2016 is a long year. I want to give myself something to build towards.
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(For more stellar parenting tips, check out the world’s first-ever family in The Croods. Thank goodness they have love and hijinks in spades, because they legitimately never get to utter the phrase “Back in my day…” Which is pretty much the greatest parenting perk since placing the remote up above your offsprings’ heads.)
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