I don't really watch much actual TV anymore, for lots of reasons. The older kids stay up later these days, and I can't settle in to watch anything until at least 9:30 or 10. And then it seems I am always busy working on laundry or school or paying bills or doing dishes. . .the list never ends. Sitting on the couch by 9 sharp to watch a specific show seems to be a thing of the past.
I don't really mind, though. We don't have cable, but we have Netflix! Netflix is a beautiful thing - I can watch a show of my choosing, whenever I want, pause it if I need to leave the room (probs to put the kibosh on a fight or put a child back to bed - again), and then pop it back on when I return. All for $7.99/month! It's a win-win, in my book!
On this lovely thing called Netflix, I have watched a few TV series over the last couple of years, mostly while I'm folding laundry (you'd be amazed at how much TV time that affords me, what with seven very-clothed people in my house!). I've always been a big fan of Law and Order:SVU, so if I can't find something to catch my eye, that is my default. Not long ago, a friend told me about Blue Bloods, which is a similar show to Law and Order. I watched an episode and was hooked.
So now, when an errant child (or wandering teenager) makes his way into the family room past 9:30 pm or so, I have to grab the Apple remote and push pause, lest a murder scene causes trauma. The other day, I paused the show just when Tom Selleck was on the screen, causing his face to stare down at us from the wall.
"What show is this?" asked my 13-year-old son. I told him the title and he went about his way. A day or two later, he entered the room and I paused the show once again, with Tom Selleck large and in charge on our TV.
"Are you watching The Crime-Filled Adventures of Mr. Mustachio?" he asked. And it has stuck. When the kids go to bed, mom folds laundry and watches Mr. Mustachio solve murder mysteries. It's a good gig.
All this talk of Tom Selleck made me resurrect an old story my kids hadn't heard. . .about the day when I met Tom Selleck.
I was in third grade and my family and I were in Memphis for a volleyball tournament for my uncle. Tom (as I like to call him) was also there, playing in the same tournament. We had heard he was staying in our hotel, causing lots of excitement and furtive glances every time we exited our rooms (this was during the height of Magnum, PI, you know). On this particularly fateful day, my sister and I were heading down to the hotel pool with our grandma. My sister and I were in our swimsuits; I'm not sure if my grandma was wearing hers. We were about to enter the elevator, when ----- Tom Selleck himself exited directly in front of us. He patted my sister's head**, and said hello to my grandma. To this day, I can hear my grandma's voice as she said, "Well, hello there!"
That was it. It was over before it started, but we met Tom Selleck. And for years, we have told this story. So my son, who couldn't possibly care less about my story, or whoever the heck Mr. Mustachio really is, had to listen to my passionate storytelling about our fifteen seconds of starstruck fame. And how my beloved grandma, who is resting in heaven with her Savior, couldn't contain her awe.
I'm sure our encounter made an equally lasting impression on Mr. Mustachio.
**Tom Selleck patted my sister's head as we changed places on the elevator. But for years afterward, I told her that it was my head his famous hand had touched. I'm not sure if she believed me or not, but I enjoyed tormenting her with my (entirely untrue) version of the story. I suppose I should call this moment to mind when my children take pleasure out of torturing their siblings.