Last weekend, our satellite DVR crapped out and erased everything on it. 53 hours worth of programming - gone. And I cried.
Now, I know that sounds incredibly pathetic, but those 53 hours represented more than just entertainment from the boob tube. They represented the last 6 years.
There were the episodes of "Fanboy and Chum Chum" that Finn watched obsessively at all hours of the day or night.
There were the holiday specials that the kids liked to watch when they were feeling cuddly whether it was December or July.
There were the news casts with that Elwood's class was featured in - one on cursive writing and one on teaching about 9/11 in school.
There was the morning program when Todd and several of his friends got up to be on TV at 5 a.m. to play music and promote Happy Slapowitz.
There were things there that I can find on Netflix and things I can't ever get back. And it made me cry.
It made me sad to think that I can't just turn on that episode of "Mighty Bee" where she writes "Running with the Rainbow Unicorn" and hear both boys giggle like the did the first time they saw it.
I can't slow down how fast time is moving. I can't get back when the boys were little and all they wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with a blanket and watch silly shows. The loss of those shows felt like the loss of being able to recapture those moments.
My head knows that this isn't true - but for a while, my heart didn't.
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