Guilty pleasures

Oh, wait, is that the bandwagon?

Nah. Screw it. I'd rather jump on the back of the ice cream truck, myself.

So, in casa de Jane, we've been all about the World Cup lately. We've been following pretty closely, and I'm sure our TV hasn't seen this much ESPN since we got it. It's so bad, we've actually considered TiVo. Oh, the horrors!

Never before in my life have I been remotely interested in organized sports. Mostly, I assume, because I am supremely unathletic, and also kind of nerdy. I was always one of those smugly superior academics who thought that athletics were just for the big hulking meatheads who couldn't tell their ass from their elbow off the field. Like, if you were too stupid to do *anything* in life, you could always play games instead.

(I'll just pause here to say that Husband played soccer in college. Division I. On scholarship. He's pretty good, if I do say so myself. But not a meathead. Also fairly intelligent. Go figure.)

And then, the other day, while enjoying half an hour of overlapping naptime (the Bear regularly sleeps for two hours in the afternoon, but Mouse can only be counted on for about half an hour on average. Then, the other day, she napped for like three hours. It was ridiculous. I haven't been able to replicate that experiment, though, much to my dismay.) I was channel surfing and I came across a World Cup match. (Sweden and Trinidad and Tobago, if you must know) and I was hooked. This is one game I can appreciate. I can figure out what they're trying to accomplish. (Unlike football, where you never know what the hell they're up to.) I can appreciate the athleticism and good sports-person-ship. I love analyzing the geopolitical ramifications of the matches. Husband came home from work and caught me watching, and he was thrilled. This is his game, after all. He's been explaining rules to me as we go, and we've been taking this time while he's recovering from his manhood-ectomy to watch the matches together. I've really been enjoying it. It's something we can share an enthusiasm for, and it's a whole new area of interest for me, one I've never taken the time to explore. It's pretty great, relationship- and entertainment-wise.

However, my girls are turning into soccer orphans. We haven't watched TV this consistently in their whole lives, I don't think. We get so focused on the match that we don't play as much as the Bear would like, and so she acts out when she gets frustrated. I try to keep both of them from watching TV, but it's always on in the background. Bear walks around saying things like, "I'm staring at the TV!" and "Boys on TV kick the soccer ball. I love you, boys on TV!" Gah. And Mouse, no matter where you hold her or lay her, will always crane her head to try and see the big glowing box. She loves it already. And here I sit, stewing in Mother Guilt, because everybody knows that too much TV is bad for your kids. And yet, deep down inside, part of me just wants them to amuse themselves for 90 minutes so I can watch the match.

On top of that, our eating habits have gone to crap. Literally, all we have been eating is fast food and junk food. I am tired, sluggish, headachey, and generally lacking in energy, and I attribute lots of that to eating crap. I just feel better when I eat better. Not to mention, Mouse is probably getting more salt, fat, and preservatives than any ten babies should have. And Husband! He let the Bear eat french fries! I'd rather feed her sand, or grass, or something equally devoid of any redeeming nutritional value. But fries? Surely this can only be the first step down a road of nutritional degeneration. She will be unhealthy, overweight, and undereducated all because she ate a few fries, right? Just heap on the guilt. Maybe just one more scoop. Okay, that should be enough for today.

Ugh. My family is going to hell in a handbasket, and I blame it all on the football (not *that* kind of football, silly)!

In other, non-related news, I trimmed the Bear's bangs for the first time yesterday. They were getting so scraggly and all in her eyes. She looks like such a big girl now. It makes me kind of sad.