On Remote Wars...

There are many things about marriage that cannot really be explained to you until it’s way too late and you have been bound as one before God and “these witnesses”. Before getting married, my wife and I, in our wisdom and understanding of “what it takes”, thought we were pretty insulated from major marital confrontations. Our relationship was based on two founding principles of which we agreed upon completely: 1) Jesus is Lord, and 2) The New Jersey Devils are not Him. (If you didn’t get the second half of that, it’s okay, you probably were not the intended target). It was generally known that in everything else we were polar opposites. We were going to be two enlightened individuals, guided by the principles of compromise and above petty squabbles that afflict you weaker scum…er, couples.

It wasn’t until a while later (e.g., during our honeymoon) that the first major confrontation occurred. I like to call it “The Remote Affair”. I believe my wife calls it “The Day I First Asserted My Dominance Over You”. I like my title better, although I can’t explain why. I don’t want to get into the gory details, but let’s just say that at one point I had placed the remote on the floor, cocked my leg up and had given my wife a look of “Are you really going to make me mark my territory”? She countered with the threat of a double-barreled assault. In the first barrel was “nagging” and the second contained “guilt”…and her look stated clearly “Are you feeling lucky? Punk.” I didn’t even know she liked Clint Eastwood, and although slightly aroused, I was also terrified.

I am, of course, speaking in metaphors, but you get the clear idea. Sometimes compromise means relinquishing all that you hold dear. Compromise, in other words, sucks…

Which brings me to my point. Yesterday my wife and I received a package in the mail from one of my oldest friends and his wife. Since they are in Houston, they were unable to attend any of the now infamous showers mentioned previously. Within the package there were two gifts for me. The first was a baby “manual”, which will come in very handy once I’ve determined which end goes up. I eagerly opened the second gift because it was very obviously a DVD, something I know considerably more about…

Perhaps it is because my friend has been away for a few years living in Texas, but I had forgotten how cruel he could be. This was no DVD. I’m not even sure what you call it. I think he called it something like “your future”. Before I past out, I distinctly recall seeing the words Barbie…and I think something about princesses. I believe you’ll agree with me that there are some lines you do not cross…the first always being The Mason-Dixon Line, but I think I’m making a case for the other kind…

And that is when it hit me. While my wife won the first round of the remote wars, even our combined powers will not be able to stop the blitzkrieg of Barney’s, Wiggles, and assorted Barbie and princess derivatives that will arrive in the next few years. Not even my Netflix list will likely go unscathed. I mean, there are only so much cartoon unicorns a man can take before he needs his helping of Braveheart.

There is only one thing to do. We must purchase another TV and DVD player. How else can I keep my sanity while the TV raises my child for me? A little warning from you fathers out there would have been helpful you know…