I’ve got an 8-year-old and an 18-month-old, so my television and movie-watching sessions are largely dominated by Disney, Pixar, Nickelodeon, and reruns of Full House. We do mix in major sporting events, a lil’ HGTV, and the occasional episode of American Ninja Warrior, but I’m much better versed in kid and tween flicks than any other genre. (Confession: I have been known to binge watch Gilmore Girls and Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix; it’s just not a sustainable habit.)
One Saturday evening I found myself with two sleeping kids, no good book in sight, and a super lame Facebook feed, so I thought I’d watch a movie. A rarity for me; while I love catching a flick at the theater it’s not something I often do (unless it’s of the kid persuasion,) and it’s even more rare for me to watch a flick at home.
But that night was movie night. I casually scrolled through my free choices (I didn’t want to waste money in case I, gasp, fell asleep,) and opted for White House Down. It was a 2013 movie that I’d never heard of, but something in the brief description caught my eye. Here’s another confession: I tend to be a bit of a skimmer, so I think that my read of the movie summary probably went something like this — Channing Tatum. Saves a kid. Interest piqued.
Now, at the time of this living room movie fest, it had most likely been years since I’d watched anything more action-packed than Cars or anything scarier than the big bear scene in Brave. I most definitely had not watched any shoot-’em-up flicks that feature heavily armed crazy people invading the White House and trying to ruin the country. (Confession #3: Despite all of this, I do admit to having seen Channing Tatum in Magic Mike. In the theater no less, with a group of moms from my neighborhood.)
Back to White House Down. It wasn’t too far into the movie, when I began to realize just how much kid programming had changed me.
Let me lay it on the line — I could barely handle the action.
Which is ridiculous, but true! My pulse was racing as I watched Channing’s heroism. I jumped and clutched my daughter’s tied-fleece blanket as the bad guys terrorized the White House. I marveled at the boldness of that brave little girl, all the while drinking a glass of milk and munching on Cheez-Its. Confession time again: I had to pause the movie about halfway through to use the bathroom because, well, I am approaching middle age, and when you have to go, you have to go. And, let’s be honest, I needed to allow my heart rate to return to normal. Because while Rio and Frozen were heart-warming tales with their own suspenseful plot twists, they don’t test a mama’s heart rate variability in the same way that a (super hot) dude single-handedly saving the president from gun-toting maniacs does.
I wasn’t sure I could make it through the movie, but yet I couldn’t stop. The action was nearly too much, but I couldn’t turn away. What had happened to me, I briefly wondered. Was I really this freaked out because of some contrived Hollywood action? I had seen movies in the past that were more mind-blowing, more psychologically thrilling, more complex. So why, when my friend called mid-movie, did I answer the phone with a shaky whisper? (That’s a rhetorical question — an overdose of kids programming is the reason! I’ve lost my moxie!) When asked if everything was OK (because of said whispery voice), I said yes and somewhat embarrassingly admitted that I was clutching a ballerina blanket in preparation for the next explosion in this violent but thrilling and oh-so-grown-up movie.
I made it through the movie. A little traumatized perhaps but alive and unscathed, just like Jamie Foxx’s character and that brave little girl that used social media to help take down the bad guys. (Such an industrious kid!) As my heart rate returned to normal, I cursed out my steady diet of G-rated programming. Darn you Disney, I thought. You’ve nearly ruined me for movies that feature anything more than animated princess punching the mischievous and cruel-intentioned, would-be suitor that nearly duped her.
Nearly ruined is the key phrase. My sense for adventure is still alive, and my love of a suspenseful movie remains inside of me somewhere. It may be dormant, but White House Down proved that it’s not dead. To keep that little flame burning (and to improve my heart rate variability), I’m committed to watching a grown-up movie on occasion. I want to ensure that my adult sensibilities are in tact when I’m better able to consume more regular doses of action-packed films. Until then I’ll troll the free lists for movies about Channing Tatum saving kids.
And, of course, I’ll still watch the G-rated shows with my own kids like all good moms do. After all, it’s part of the mom job description. OK, OK, final confession: Despite all of this posturing, I admit that my 8-year-old and 18-month-old are not the only ones in our household that are excited about Finding Dory.
