Cora Dress. Shoes: Nine West. (similar.) Jacket: Anthropologie.
So, on Saturday night, the Mr. and I had big plans to go to the cinema (Don’t you just love the word cinema? Sounds so refined. Like when movies used to be art. Let’s bring that one back). Anyways, I love seeing movies, and we thought it would be fun to go catch a late one. But, as it goes when you’ve got four kids, two of them were a little sick and so, we decided to stay and have a date at home. We picked up a couple milkshakes, some fries and then camped out in our upstairs loft for an evening with Netlfix. It was a classy affair.
We settled on “Call the Midwife.” No-scratch that, first we tried to watch “Dumb and Dumber” again but discovered that A. it’s not really that funny after you’re not a teenager anymore, B. 90’s movies have possibly the worst musical scores, ever and C. it’s also basically one of those movies that’s way more funny to quote than to actually watch. Maybe it’s just me, but really, I don’t think it’s just me. Anyways, I have this theory about not re-watching childhood/teen favorites because what you remember as being soooo good, can be ruined in a single Saturday night of nostalgia watching. Like the time we tried to watch “The 5th Element” right after we were married, because Craig thought it was “so awesome” (and I quote) when he was 15, except it’s actually the worst movie ever made, possibly in the history of movies. (And that’s saying something.)
But where was I going with this… oh yeah. Call the Midwife. If you can believe it, it was Craig who suggested we watch it because it’s a BBC show and everybody knows those BBC shows are amazing. Granted, he fell asleep before the opening credits had finished, and I stayed up until a ridiculous hour watching four episodes in one sitting. Darn you Netflix for making binge watching so disgustingly easy! After pulling all-nighters for the past week, trying to get our Black Friday orders buttoned up and out the door (we’re still working on them, bear with us!) staying up until the wee-hours of the morning before I had to get up and get all six of us out the door for 9am church was probably not the most practical of choices, but what can I say, I live on the wild side.
So, Call the Midwife. I really should listen to my mother more religiously because she suggested this show to me over a year ago and I shrugged it off, because it didn’t sound all that appealing. Except it turns out, it’s another one of those awesome BBC period pieces, that they get just so right, and it also makes me appreciate childbirth and the children I have, and the circumstances/time I was born into and our medical technology, and still somehow also wish I was living in 1950’s London and wearing circle skirts every. single. day…
Does the BBC ever get anything wrong? I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this question, but I just want to put it out there into the universe and see if it’s even a possibility.
Also, I’m starting to remember why we don’t have T.V. I have no self-control when I love a show.