MARK MY WORD: GO FOR THE GOLD, BUT LEAVE ME THE REMOTE CONTROL

Sunday used to be a day of rest, a time when Joni and I could sit back and leisurely read the newspaper, go to a movie or just veg out.

But that was before kids. As parents of 7-month-old Bailey and 4-year-old Becca, we find there is little time to rest unless you count the trips to the bathroom.

There's a reason why they're called restrooms. No doubt, they were named by tired parents who were just looking for a moment's peace.

Even watching TV isn't the same.

Bailey loves remote controls. Whether it's for the TV or the stereo, she loves those thin black boxes with all those buttons to push.

Leave a remote control on the floor for just a second, and Bailey instantly covets it. She crawls relentlessly toward it, a huge smile on her face.

She loves to gum the remote control. Baby slobber is a stamp of approval for Bailey.

Every now and then, she even manages to change channels.

She has tons of toys and what she really wants is the remote control.

I think she's suffering from gender confusion. Doesn't she know that remote controls belong to men? Our whole self esteem is dependent on pushing those buttons. When the batteries go out, we're in trouble.

Women watch TV programs from beginning to end; men channel surf, catching glimpses of a lot of programs and sporting events.

The Summer Olympics have been hard on me. Joni has cautioned me not to channel surf in the middle of the gymnastics competition.

She would keep the TV tuned to the Olympics day and night.

I find this interesting because Joni isn't a TV sports nut. She doesn't want to watch a zillion baseball games a year or tune in to ESPN for the latest sports news.

But she loves the Olympics. That's because the Olympics aren't really about sports. It's about pomp and circumstance, flag waving, and which athlete is having a good hair day.

The Olympics are sports for people who don't want to watch sports. For them, the swimming events are best. They last only minutes and the swimming suits are nice too.

For most Americans, the Olympics are about nationalism. It's a chance to root for the red, white and blue.

Of course, it isn't as much fun as it used to be. When the Cold War was going on, we could hate the Soviet athletes and feel good about it.

It's not the same now. The breakup of the Soviet Union and the demise of the Iron Curtain has left us without an athletic enemy.

Still, we cheer for our Americans. We want to see them win.

Becca loves the gymnastic competition. She turned our living room into her own gymnastic arena the other night. She proudly pranced across an imaginary balance beam and tried to mirror the moves of the competitors in the floor exercise.

Bailey is oblivious to the Olympic spirit right now. She crawled right over the imaginery balance beam and practically disrupted Becca's floor exercise.

Like her dad, she would prefer to channel surf or at least eat the remote control.

After all, there's something reassuring about having your hand on the button, or in Bailey's case, her mouth.

Who knows, perhaps some day channel surfing will be an Olympic sport.

If so, Bailey should have a leg up on the competition -- once she learns to walk.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.