Techno Wizard, Remotely Speaking

Thanks to our elder son we are now fully ensconced in the technological era; no longer a disgrace to society or our children.  We have acquired Netflix, BlueRay, Pandora, HD TV (high def please, not to be confused with the home decorating channel), DVR, Wii, surround sound, and wireless internet on the tv.   We now posses enough remotes that if strung end to end would easily reach around the block and back again.

It began innocently enough when The Kid, decided we needed a new television.  Not just any new tv, a bigger one.  Not just a bigger one, a super-sized one.  A super sized tv with brains sitting in my living room is a frightening thing.  It arrived late last spring with a great deal of fanfare.  The Kid was a proud papa but I was less than thrilled.  The picture was no different than on our perfectly fine old one, in fact it gave me a headache to watch it.  When Chris flew in for a visit in June he was dismayed that this marvel of modern technology was permitted to exist without upgraded cable service.  What's the point he asked?  We needed high def.

Fast forward six months, Chris is due to return to the island in a matter of hours and still there is no high def cable.  (The Kid and I have been squeezing into the guest room to watch tv on our old set or enjoying a movie on our laptops.) We scurried off to Comcast and returned in the nick of time with a brand spanking new high-def, DVR, cable box.  The now not so new super-sized tv with a brain could begin to think.  Christmas morning a shiny Blue Ray disc player appeared under the tree.  Life as I knew it had forever changed.

However, there is one teeny, tiny little problem....my simple life has now been complicated by a thousand different remotes, each with a purpose and no instruction manual.



Class was held yesterday afternoon because "Mom, there is no reason to have all of this stuff if you aren't going to use it."

I listened carefully as remotes were placed in my hand and shiny red and green buttons were pointed out to me.

"Use this one to turn it on.  Press this red triangle and scroll down to choose your setting.  Use this one to change the channel.  Press here to play a dvd.  No, not that one, this one sets up Netflix.  Panodora is for music.  Mom, pay attention I'm not going to be here forever."

"Can't I just call you when I need to watch a movie,"  I asked?  "You could talk me through it."

Frustration was hovering under the surface, waiting anxiously for an opportunity to bubble over and ruin a perfectly fine Christmas day.  I don't know when it happened but it seems my elder child has acquired patience in adulthood.  He checked his frustration and began anew, "press this red triangle and scroll down to choose your setting."

The Kid was no help what-so-ever.  "She's just going to screw it up," he wheezed.

"Can I," I asked?  "screw it up?"

"No Mom, it's okay.  You can't screw it up."

"She will," more from the wheezer,  "and when she does I'm not going to fix it."    Now that hurt.  Cut me to the core. Surely it's the fever talking.

Additional remotes were unearthed, buttons explained.  It was exhausting.  It must have been my eyes rolling uncontrollably in their sockets that caused Chris to proclaim class was over.  Apparently I passed.  I have acquired enough knowledge to successfully turn on the tv, change channels, and watch a movie on Netflix.  I am a techno wizard.

My biggest fear is that one miscue on my part, one out of sequence push of a button might prematurely launch the space shuttle or worse yet cause the New York City metro system to malfunction setting off a chain of events more terrifying than 9/11.  I'm not certain I can shoulder the burdon of such responsibility. Maybe I'll just watch tv in the spare room.  It's safer that way.