From a young age, Kat has been drawn to irreverent comedy. Starting at age seven, she binge-watched the entire series of “Futurama” multiple times. Next came “Phineas and Ferb,” “Bob’s Burgers,” “Uncle Grandpa,” and “Rick and Morty.” I didn’t love it when she moved on to Jim Gaffigan stand-up specials, not because he talks about adult themes—I mean, just because her former comedic obsessions were cartoons, they aren’t exactly full of child-like innocence—but because I worried Gaffigan’s incessant self-deprecating fat-guy jokes would influence Kat into believing the anti-fat bullshit fed to us from the billion dollar diet industry. Gaffigan’s funny, though, and I’ve found that the more I restrict Kat’s pop culture consumption, the more she sneaks. I’d rather she watch with me instead of behind my back so I can chime in with counter arguments.
“He’s got great timing and what he is saying is funny, but I don’t like how he equates fatness with disease. If you dismiss the studies paid for by people who profit off the billion dollar diet industry, most scientific research shows that fatness does not necessarily lead to disease. Correlation is not the same as causation. Some thin people can be unhealthy just as some fat people can be unhealthy, so really—“
“—Mommy, I know. I know," she’d interrupt. "Can you please unpause it? I gotta leave for school in a minute. If I don’t see where he goes with this bit it’s gonna drive me crazy all day.”
“Well, you don’t need that kind of distraction to ruin your school day, now do you?” I'd say.
After plowing through Gaffigan’s life work, Kat moved on to other stand-up specials by Demetri Martin, Josh Johnson, and the like. Then, she discovered John Mulaney. She’s been on a Mulaney kick for a solid two years now.
“Bojack Horseman” is a recent addition to Kat’s playlist. Instead of replacing her love of all-things-Mulaney, she’s learning that it’s possible to fangirl over multiple pop culture icons at a time. She’s evolved from being an irreverent comedy serial monogamist to being an irreverent comedy polygamist.
In fact, now she’s toying with a third current comedy crush: “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”
The other day, Kat was watching a YouTube video about fashion and décor trends from past decades.
“I’m really getting into the whole 1950s-era look," she said. "Ya know, like, bullet bras and clean lines in furniture."
“I think that’s called mid-century modern,” I said.
“Well if it’s from the 50s, it’s not exactly modern,” Kat said.
“It was modern-ish a couple of decades ago when that term came about,” I said.
Kat shrugged.
“Oh, I know! You’d like Mrs. Maisel,” I said.
“Who’s Mrs. Maisel?” Kat asked.
Before I finished my last sentence, Kat had turned on the Roku, queued up the first episode and plopped her butt next to me on the couch. Her feet were freezing under my blanket, but I didn’t complain for fear I’d scare her away. It’s nice when she wants to spend time with her old lady. Watching “Mom’s shows” is not exactly a 14-year-old’s first priority. I get it. When I was Kat’s age, my mom used to call me out of my bedroom.
“Come watch ‘Moonlighting’ with me,” Mom would say after knocking on my door.
“Mom. Ugh. I have homework,” I’d counter. Honestly, I was mostly likely just sitting in front of my mirror popping pimples while listening to The Smith’s “The Queen Is Dead” for the thousandth time. I always technically had homework. I just wasn’t technically good at doing it. I wonder why.
“Do it later! Come on, it’s starting!” Mom would say, shuffling off down the hall.
I always followed.
This sort of directness, this “Mom’s show” manipulation, doesn’t work with my daughter. At fourteen, she’s already smarter than me and has no problem advocating for her own alone-time needs. When I invite Kat out to the living room to watch most of the shows I like, she has no problem saying no. So, when she does sit next to me on the couch, I accept her, gleefully, icy feet and all.
We’re now on season 1, episode 4 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Actually, I’m already on season 3, episode 5, but I’m re-watching the first season with the marvelous Miss Carleton. As I write this, I’m on the couch next to Kat as she sits in front of her school-issued MacBook doing school work. It’s all I can do not to queue up an episode of our show on the Roku and convince Kat that she can focus on school later. But I can wait. She'll be done with her school work in no time.
The good thing about remote learning during a pandemic is that there’s no such thing as homework anymore. I mean, all school work when you’re in online school is technically “home” work, but it’s not extraneous busy work you’re expected to keep up with after school, while Mom's knocking at your door, pleading with you to come watch TV with her. I’m luckier than my mom was. With streaming series on Prime, and online school, my kid and I aren’t committed to a one-hour block of prime time on network TV like my mom and I were back in the 80s. If I took time to finish my homework instead of heading out to the living room at the top of the hour, I'd miss the show. No replay. No rewind. Just have to wait til summer reruns. What a disappointment to my mother. It’s easier to parent patiently in the era of on-demand.
Oh, look! Kat closed her MacBook. It's showtime.
