The Power Struggle Eased By the DVR

It measures eight inches long and two inches wide, and it creates a power struggle.

The power struggle.

Yes, every relationship goes through this. And some couples may not admit it, but at one point or another it existed. Yes it has.

The almighty remote control. It has the power to instigate the eye-roll, the smacking of the lips, the deep exhale, the shaking of the head, and the disbelief that your partner, dude, wife, baby-daddy, girlfriend, or love interest can watch something so stupid.

Television remote control (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The remote control, is like the ring in the Lord of The Rings and you’re all aiming to be Frodo. You don’t want to be Sam — the sidekick — on this one. You want to be the main hobbit. You want that power … that power to change the channel and dictate the entertainment for the evening. You really don’t want to get stuck watching some crappy show, knowing full well that an awesome hour-long program is on another channel. So it becomes a race for the remote control. And this race usually takes place after the kids are put to bed.

After bath time, brushing teeth time, diaper time, pajama time, and reading books time, it’s finally sleeping time. And you do your best to put them to sleep. You sass them, bribe them, hug them, love them, and threaten to take Lightening McQueen away from them in order to get them to fall asleep faster. All these efforts in order to get to the remote control first, in order to have an upper hand in the remote control battle.

Now if you have the exact same taste in television programs, the power struggle may be nonexistent for you. But this is rare. Other times the struggle does not exist because one partner has completely given up all remote control rights and the pursuit of television happiness. They just sit there … absorbing electricity.

This did not happen in The Guat household tonight. Tonight we had the remote control battle. The struggle.

There it was … the Olympics … An extraordinary event that takes place every four years where we send our best athletes to compete against the world. An exciting, exhilarating competitive event that involves a gold medal and has you at the edge of your couch yelling c’mon! This is what I wanted to watch. I wanted to be that chic on the edge, yelling C’MON!

Then we had something called Animation Domination of the Fox Network. Something that happens every week. Cartoons. We’re talking about cartoons. Not even new cartoons. Reruns. And not even the entire lineup of Animation Domination. Just partial. The Simpson. American Dad and Family Guy. Have you seen this? I’m not a big fan, especially when I could be watching the Olympics.

And as I came downstairs from putting both kids to sleep. There it was — the remote control — sitting on the couch, up for grabs. But his hands happened to get a hold of it first. And then there it was … the exasperated sigh, the eye roll, the I can’t believe he chose to watch this crap.

So after about five minutes. I restated my it-happens-once-every-four-years argument. He restated his position. It’s Animation Domination. I shook my head and just grabbed the remote control. I vetoed the selection, and said we’re recording this. This is a house of sports damn it. We’re watching the Olympics.

Thank God for the DVR otherwise we’d have to file for divorce.