Saturday, January 17, 2009

Shut. In.

Before leaving the hospital my pediatrician advised me not to take my new baby out of the house (no confined spaces with strangers) for at least six weeks.

I could take him for walks to get some fresh air but no stopping: no Starbucks, no video store, no nothing.


By day five, I was becoming deeply shack wacky. Visitors would stop by and I'd beg them for word from the outside,

"You went to the grocery store?? Tell me more! I want details!"

When six weeks finally came (and to be honest I only made it to 4 weeks) (and to be really honest I only made it to 12 days) I bounded out of the house - anxious to be anywhere other than my one-bedroom apartment, which looks out on only a grey stucco wall and the occasional glimpse of my oft-nude 300-pound neighbor-lady.

Out I went! Shopping at the mall! Walks in the park! Mommy and me movies!

Yes, lady at Jamba Juice - my baby is adorable. Thanks!

Well, hello old man at the Grove! You sure do love talking to yourself in a crazy voice, don't you?

It was exhilarating! It was all I pictured motherhood to be.

But then I had a couple of...bad experiences (see Fox.Hen.Grain).

Suddenly, every urge to leave the house had to be weighed against the likelihood of ending up stuck in the bowels of Target with an inconsolable infant - getting helpful advice like "Rub his cheek! He likes that!" from passing strangers.

My resolve to venture past my mailbox waned significantly and I fell back into spending long days on the couch. I reasoned that, rather than risking disaster, Snoods and I would both be happier relaxing on the sofa and indulging our shared passion: non-stop eating.

I even found a solution to the soul-crushing boredom. The solution that has been saving shut-ins like me for a generation: Daytime Television!

Game shows! Talk shows! Soaps! Even lower-rent reality TV than the stuff that's on in primetime!

I watch them all.
I must admit, I can clearly recall mocking my best friend when she began calling me right after her baby was born with daily updates on a show called "Starting Over".

From Wikipedia:
Starting Over was a US reality TV show that follows the lives of women who are experiencing difficulty in their lives and want to make changes, with the help of life coaches

But I'm not mocking anymore.

Instead, I'm sitting for hours on end with my hair piled on top of my head eating yesterday's pizza for breakfast, wearing stained sweatpants and absorbing Elizabeth Hasselbeck's thoughts on why Sarah Palin is justified in murdering wolves from the air and/or trying to figure out whether Zack really shot Josh intentionally to get Kendall the heart she needed for her transplant surgery.

During each break from programming, the same television commercials roll by in a seemingly endless loop:

Children's toys

Weight Loss Schemes

Depression Management

It doesn't take me long to realize that I am now a solid member of one of daytime television's target demographics -


(The other, of course, being the elderly homebound).
Which may seem depressing to you, sitting out there is the real world and judging me as I once judged. But I'm telling you, life on the's not half bad once you accept your fate.

There's a FULL DAY OF HOT TOPICS coming up on 'The View' and then next week, I get to find out whether or not that killer guy will find Sami and Rafe hiding out at that abandoned convent!

Plus, if I can only convince my husband to get me one of those neato chair lifts I won't have to walk up and down the stairs anymore.

Look forward to hearing about fireman sawing me off my couch in next week's edition!