my #streamteam may

Things I love that my 5-year-old kid also loves: nail polish, saying "whatever" under my breath, plain white buttered rice shovelled from plate to mouth like a machine, group hugs, sugar, sleeping, reading, staring at people fighting, polka-dot socks, bubble bath, tickling people but never being tickled back, dinosaurs, birthdays, ice cream, smacking people on the butt and sparkly jewellery.

Oh and NETFLIX.

She has her own channel. She has her own iPad. She watches Teen Titans in the morning while she sleepily chomps on her toast. She watches a lot of shows in little chunks of her day, in between school, play dates, reading to us, playing mini basketball, helping me fold socks, complaining about the "spicy" chicken and holding the doors for us when we take the garbage and recycling to the stinky basement.

Her iPad is well worn, and I feel no guilt. Ever.

I was born in the time before iPads and the Internet and I watched a BUTT ton of television and movies. I also read every night until my eyes bled. I also played with my dog outside until I got winded (probably 3 minutes), had sleepovers with friends, "taught" my cabbage patch kids in my "classroom", made naked Barbie and Ken kiss in the backyard, learned to iron my Mom's clothes at the age of 11, and still found time to huck shoes at my little brother when he was innocently minding his own business.

Screen time has existed for a long time and I don't think my parents were stressed out about it.

So I don't either. Every day her and I do stuff we don't love. Every day we deserve a small window to turn our pulsing brains OFF and just let somebody else entertain us. So it was for me and so it is for her.

Naysay away - it doesn't bother me much. My retort every time: I get to sleep in until 10 am on Saturdays because she watches cartoons on Netflix. That's a sentence FILLED with magic, my friends.

I'm unsure why I went outside looking like Assassin's Creed in my Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt backpack but this kid isn't too embarrassed to catch a lift.

I'm unsure why I went outside looking like Assassin's Creed in my Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt backpack but this kid isn't too embarrassed to catch a lift.

~

May was STUPID. May was so busy. The "b" word. What a stupid word. You know what happened then last weekend? I whimpered "enough" to the world. I dropped the kid off with her Grandma and I bought fortifying supplies (real slices of roast beef to be squirted with mayo and mustard and dropped neatly into my mouth, ice cream, yogurt covered pretzels and weird chewy Portugese cheese balls) and I laid down on the couch and I watched 6 hours of Netflix.

I regret nothing.

The third season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, the start of Hannibal Season 3, the first few episodes of Lady Dynamite and (YES! THANK YOU! IT RETURNS!) the first episode of Chef's Table Season 2. 

I needed that break. Real life, and its constant curveballs and responsibilities and ridiculousness and people clipping their nail on public transit, threatens to push me off the edge most days.

Netflix takes the edge off.

That's called balance, yo.

As a member of Netflix Canada's #streamteam I will be giving you the straight goods on what I'm watching each month in exchange for a yearly membership. It's a match made in heaven, really.