The Wonders of TiVo: Watch Your Favorite Teams Lose Way Past Everyone's Bedtime

Shame on the NHL for starting their playoff games at a decent hour...don't they know that, on good days, I don't get home from work until after the game has already started, then sit down to a nice dinner with my family that ends with the little one shouting "uh oh" as he turns his food dish upside down on the floor and the middle one singing "Bringing in the Sheaves" at the top of his lungs (that actually happened) followed by three baths, an untold number of stories, a bottle, two bowls of cereal, then the start of bedtime preparations?

Ah, but that's why they invented TiVo. TiVo, quickly becoming the world's greatest generic eponym since Kleenex, Jell-o, and the Davenport, allows you to do essentially the same thing that VCR's did 35 years ago, (tape stuff on TV) except now it actually works. You can tape the whole game and watch it on your own time. Couldn't think of anything else I'd change...ok, one thing.

NHL, you could stand to add more TV timeouts. Yeah I said that. More TV timeouts. You need to be more like the NFL, where each team gets 35 challenges per half, plus five media timeouts per quarter, which often creates the dreaded field goal-commercial-touchback-commercial-challenge-commercial sequence where you can go milk a cow and not miss a single play.

We TiVoers love football for those long stretches of no action...running the Fast Forward thing up to 4, refusing to slow down for that Discover Card commercial where the two African-American ladies amuse each other (they are the same lady though, right?) for your son who has the whole commercial memorized, down to the cackling, then slamming on the TiVo breaks to see that the coach in fact can't challenge the kickoff.

Not so in hockey. By my count you get 4 media timeouts per period, each lasting a paltry minute, plus two 10-12 minute intermissions that the 4-speed on the TiVo blasts through so fast you don't even see Mike Milbury (not so bad...) You make up no ground whatsoever, unless you fast forward through all the Penguins goals against; which is where you can make up some time.

Tonight, by the time the Penguins got through s__tting the ice on Long Island, the BlackHawks/Wild game was in the first intermission, and everyone who had attempted to stay up to watch the game with me was asleep. NHL, by keeping your regulation games to a tidy, efficient 2-and-a-half hours, with limited sideshow interruptions, you are losing millions of tiny Tivo fans who simply can't stay awake long enough to get caught up. Please consider this the number one agenda item at your Summer Meetings, if you have them...longer games.

Confession: I don't have Tivo...just a "DVR." And I use "tissues" to smear "petroleum jelly" on my baby's butt.

Week 7 Soccer Notes

1. Due to a scheduling quirk, my daughter's team of Age 6 Ladybugs found themselves matched up Saturday against something resembling the 2018 Brazilian Men's World Cup entry, and the results were predictable. They lost 241-2. Adding insult was that one of the 2 goals came immediately as our one-year-old was falling out of the giant wagon, so our light cheers for a relatively meaningless goal could easily have been construed as derisive, mock cheers for a baby falling out of a wagon and landing on his head.

Frustration was clearly mounting for the girl, who told me several times during the game, "They're pushing me!" and I did see some extended arms and elbows. But rather than channeling that anger into pushing back, it eroded into more of an "I give the s__t up with this," attitude. It's unfortunate, but we could be seeing the beginning of the end of soccer for her. Who knows, maybe next week they'll actually play other 6-year-olds (girls, even) and have a chance to do something.

2. During the hour between games, we walked around the track and witnessed parts of one softball game and two baseball games. We saw 33 pitches thrown via a variety of methods (kids, coaches, machines) before one was mercifully put into play, a short grounder to a player of indeterminate position, who bobbled, fielded and threw wildly to first base, which was uncovered anyway, despite there being 22 defenders on the field, including three first basemen. CAN NOT WAIT for our kids to start playing that.

3. The second game of the day featured our 3-year-old, who did not score a goal but did tally a nice assist ("nice" in 3-year-old soccer = "extraordinarily lucky") on a teammate's goal. Since he was mad that he didn't score the goal himself, we had to remind him that he helped a teammate score a goal, and that was just as important. That works on a three-year-old, who then reminded us throughout the remainder of the day that he helped his teammate score a goal. Next we'll ask him to make a nice assist to his parents as they clean his room.

4. For the seventh straight week, I am smacking myself on the back of the neck for not wearing sunscreen. When it's 49 degrees when you leave the house, the last thing you're thinking about is sunscreen. It's all i'm thinking about now. 

Everyone Out of the Kitchen Unless You Plan on Sleeping There

Something good will happen the day I decide to move the three-year-old's bed into the kitchen. Either he'll finally sleep in his own bed since he is addicted to the kitchen, or he'll finally get out of the kitchen. I suspect the latter, since his mama has no desire to sleep in the kitchen, and he can't fall asleep unless he's holding two fistfuls of her hair. I would offer to buy him a wig to hold onto in his kitchen-bed and release his 259 negelected stuffed animals to the nearby shelter, where they're sure to find a more loving home.

Either way it's a win. Getting all the kids out of the kitchen is a fine way to start. Parenthood has come with many surprises for me, but somewhere in the Top 15 is how stupidly unproductive the day is when kids are in the kitchen. Nothing good EVER happens when kids are in the kitchen.

We then are enacting several new kitchen rules, effective immediately, which should increase our daily household productivity 10-fold, by which we mean we can fold about 10 more pairs of unmatched socks daily.

1. All trips into or through the kitchen must be pre-arranged and pre-approved. This will put an immediate stop to (a) that game where they chase each other using the the baby's high chair, or sometimes just the baby, as a temporary speed impediment, and (2) the mid-morning, mid-day, mid-mid-day, post-lunch, pre-supper, post-supper, pre-teeth-brushing, bedtime, and pre-post-bedtime snacking, none of which includes their bowl of cereal. Not so much because we aim to curb childhood obesity, (though that's cool too) but because we don't have enough room in our cabinets for all the half-eaten sleeves of Saltines and Ritz.

Going forward if kids want to set foot in the kitchen, we will require them to fill out an application stating the reason for the visit --eating at designated times (see #6 below), answering a ringing telephone, or actually cleaning the kitchen are the only acceptable reasons-- the length of their prospective visit, (not to exceed 9 minutes) and three valid forms of identification.

2. Nobody is allowed to touch the dishwasher under any circumstance. This seems counter-intuitive, given that the oldest could be soon mature enough to have "loading/unloading the dishwasher" as an official chore, but right now the only chore is watching the kids empty it one... spoon... at... a... time.

3. The 1-year-old is not allowed in the kitchen at any time. Period. Maybe to eat. If there is a market somewhere for re-arranging the bowls in the lower cabinets via the kitchen floor, we should send him on a plane tomorrow to that land and no longer encumber him with our simplistic, short-sighted ways; we are only stunting his earning power. Also, he uses an open dishwasher like half of a see-saw.

4. The next person who drops more of their meal on the floor than in their mouth will be forced to lick...wait, usually that's me.

5. We are not entertaining the thought of adding doors to the kitchen. This suggestion was brought by the middle child, who while attempting to sneak a piece of brownie, was so startled by his Dad I could have been Chris Hansen. Afterwards, the rankled boy, using his best "Don't you know how to knock?" voice asked why there were no doors to the kitchen. It's so Dad can catch you eating brownies, boy!

6. We will eat dinner together as a family in the kitchen. Except the nights when Dad works late. Or the kids have soccer practice, or dance practice, or violin practice, or the Steelers play at 4 o'clock (which means we get to eat downstairs!!) But all other times we will eat together as a family. We'll ask each other how our day was. We won't ask you what you learned in school today, because you'll just mumble out "nothing" with a big gob of meatball in your mouth. But we'll talk and we'll listen and maybe we'll laugh, as long as you kids don't overdo your comedy routines. And then somebody will have to go to the bathroom, particularly if he doesn't like what's on the menu that day. Then we'll do it again the next day.

Strike a Pose

I'll ask you to do something that I'll never EVER ask you to do again...try to actually insert the Thomas theme music into your head for thirty seconds. Whatever you hear in your head the rest of the day is not my responsilibility.

They're two they're four they're six they're eight
Shunting trucks and hauling freight
Lauren, Katherine, Lana too.
Bette Davis, we love you!

All with different roles to play
I know a place to get away
It is called the dancing floor
This...is... what... it's...for

THOMAS! He's the cheeky one
GRETA! She's the Garbo one
DIETRICH! Surely did something chic
DIMAGGIO! Had an epic streak
JIMMY! Cover of a magazine
JEAN! Picture of a beauty queen
Don't forget about FRED! Astaire...
GINGER ROGERS! - well, she danced on airrrrr...

They're two they're four they're six they're eight
Shunting trucks and hauling freight
Beauty is where you find it
Not just where you bump and grind it

Makes no difference, black or white
Pumping music gives new life
Yes you know just what you are...
You're...a...sup-er-star

They're two they're four they're six they're eight
Rita Hayworth gave good face
Ladies with an attitude...
Fellas that were in the mood...
Thomas and his friends!

The Kids Are Still Playing Soccer

When we last left our kids, they were busy blasting the ball into their own net and more interested in self-preservation than stopping the opposition. Happy to report on both fronts incremental progress has been made.

• The boy still put one in his own net each of the last two weeks, but he also put three in the opposition's net two weeks ago and one last week. So he's a +2 if you apply hockey's plus/minus system specifically to goals off of his feet. He also managed to position himself well enough to scatter some fans with a vicious kick directly out of bounds. But on a brighter note, he had plenty of opportunities for more wide open own goals and mentioned to slow himself down, turn around, and kick the ball the right direction, much to the relief of his dad.

• Two weeks ago the girl actually tried once to (however apologetically) take the ball from an opposition player. The result was a total stalemate with the ball rolling harmlessly out of bounds, and Dad could not have been prouder. The beautiful part of her game is how much fun she has, and the mile-wide smile she constantly wears as she tries to learn something new, without regard to whether she's meeting anyone's standards or approval. I just hope she doesn't get trucked into a mud puddle; it could be a traumatic, career-ending experience.

• The third member of our crew learned how to say, "I want apple juice," even when referring to orange juice, chocolate milk, hard liquor, or any beverage. Anything that comes in a sippy cup is apple juice.