Control Issue in my House

I distinctly remember a pastor telling my fiancé and me long ago that there would be control issues in our marriage. He advised, “These issues will define how compatible you become with each other and will, in many ways, define your relationship and eventually your family’s functionality.” (Or something like that.) Anyway, that fiancé is now my wife and with three boys showing up along the way to complete our family unit, the pastor’s words certainly ring prophetic. There is a definite control issue in our home. A remote control issue. A remote control issue was nonexistent in my house growing up. If you wanted to change the channel, you got up and walked over to the TV and flipped the knobs. Not so much anymore. He (or she) who holds within his (or her) hand the remote control, temporarily ascends to the throne of power within our home. It’s not like we watch television all the time. We like to read, play on computers, write columns (okay, that’s just me), and play outside. But to deny the presence of the remote control issue would be naïve. Issues in the past usually involved the misplacement of the remote control units. They mainly prefer to hide under couch cushions. Sometimes they telepathically transport themselves to other rooms. Or they simply vanish from existence like those mobsters in witness protection programs who testify then move to small towns somewhere in the Midwest. We thought we fixed that problem a while back in our house. We purchased one of those remotes that will make a noise if you whistle. It turned out to be ineffective once we figured out it wouldn’t respond if it was underneath another object- like a couch cushion. And we lost the little whistle they included. Plus we were forced to endure the annoying sound it made every time there was any noise in our house higher than a middle C. It had to go. We replaced it with our most recent purchase, which has worked well. It is a giant universal remote roughly equal to a size 11 Nike shoe. (Size 12 in Adidas or Mizuno.) Too big to misplace. And the numbers are easy to read. Unfortunately we only have one and it stays in the living room. Back to the control issue. My wife, kids, and I rarely all agree on the same programs to watch. Thus the battle rages. Mom usually wins because we are gentlemen. But on the inside we are bitter and resentful. Recently my former fiancé (now wife of 22 years) was in bed watching a program she knew I couldn’t stomach. I patiently waited with eager anticipation as her eyes grew heavier. “You’re waiting for me to fall asleep so you can slip the controls out of my hands and change the channel,” she noted. I truly believe she forced herself to stay awake another 45 minutes just to spite me. A few nights later I took charge of my home. Unable to sleep, I got up from the bed around 2 a.m. and proceeded to the living room where the giant size 11 Nike remote beckoned me. Ah, total control at last. I surfed those wretched infomercials for two hours before drifting off to sleep. . . with a smile on my face.