When my daughter was about four, she’d get tired of the food on her dinner plate, push it away and announce “I’m done.” To which my measured reply was: “You’re not done until I say so. Keep eating.”
At age six, she still has a tendency to leave certain foods untouched, but since she’s figured out the game well enough to try and make me think she’s submitting to authority, she asks, “Mom, can I be done?” My reply hasn’t changed, but her wording did get me thinking.
There are an awful lot of things I’d like to be done with. My short list includes night sweats, hairline grays that refuse to take color, and random chin hairs that seem to sprout overnight. It’s especially nice when you find one of these hairs by accident, say while checking your makeup in your review mirror, on your way home from seeing friends.
I’d also like to be done with all things Bikini Bottom. Unlike Bob the Builder, Dora the Explorer or The Backyardigans, Sponge Bob seems to outlive all developmental stages, apparently remaining hilarious to audiences from pre-school to pre-teen and beyond. If your children are young and you are still a Sponge Bob newbie, you might say: “But I like Sponge Bob – it’s funny!” I said that too. Six years ago. Back when it was still funny. When you have seen the driving school episode a gazillion times, trust me, you will want it to be done.
While I’m kicking over some pop culture sacred cows, can I be done with Hannah Montana? I know tweens and moms love her wholesome image, her hunky dad and her quirky antics, but can’t we all really see where this is going? She will grow up and long to pursue grown up roles. To achieve this she will need to shed the squeaky clean Disney image, and like the Britneys and Lindseys before her, she will fall from grace and leave a lot of karaoke-crazed little girls in the dust. I hope I’m wrong – but I’d still like to sever the relationship now, before things get ugly.
I’d like to be done with ridiculous news fillers masquerading as headline news. Does anybody really care what a beauty pageant contestant thinks about gay marriage? Does anybody care what Perez Hilton thinks about what she thinks about gay marriage? Spare me.
I’d like to be done with people who respond to a polite “thank you,” with the ubiquitous “No worries.” Call me old fashioned but in my book, “You’re welcome,” is still the correct answer.
Public displays of butt-crack tattoos? Done. People who shout into cell phones while shopping, dining or simply walking down the street. Done. And any coffee drink that requires more than a three word description while ordering (it’s just so nineties) - totally done.
Well it felt good to get all that out of my system. And I know what you’re thinking. “Is she done yet?”
Done.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
It's the Gift, Not the Thought That Counts
I was flipping through my latest issue of Real Simple today when I came across an ad that really shocked me. The picture showed a close up of a yummy looking egg dish and the headline in big bold letters declared: “Mom deserves the best...get her the non-stick frittata pan.”
Excuse me?
How is it possible in 2009 that a modern magazine (Real Simple no less) can feature an antiquated ad suggesting that because I’m a mom I will be thrilled to receive some sort of appliance for Mother’s Day? Because the obvious aftermath of unwrapping that pan, or any pan, is that I will then use it to cook something. For somebody else. New washing machine? Go do some laundry why don’t ya! Vacuum cleaner? Start sucking it up honey the dust bunnies are waiting.
I happen to be married to a guy who basically gets it, so I’m confident I won’t be getting the aforementioned frittata pan on May 10. But since I have a platform to vent, I thought I’d make a short list of dos and don’ts when shopping for moms – ladies feel free to weigh in with your own hit list:
First, do not get me chocolate, cookies or any kind of baked goods. As every mom in America knows, Mother’s Day falls a scant 17 days prior to Memorial Day, the beginning of yet another long and unforgiving swimsuit season. Now is not the time to trip us up.
Don’t take me to some overpriced all-you-can-eat brunch. See reason above.
Unless you went to see Vicky, do not buy me a “warm” robe, “cozy” slippers, or “comfy” pj’s. I do not want to look or feel like my mother on Mother’s Day.
Do think outside the box. Why not create a really cool playlist of songs you think I’d like and then send me off with a tall, cool drink to chill out and groove.
Make me a mimosa. Because champagne is fun, especially in the morning, and because it’s impossible not to smile when you say “mimosa.”
Take the kids to a matinee. This may surprise you but I actually love my home when I’m the only one in it. No one leaving piles to be picked up. Nobody bugging me for snacks, sex or both. It also lets me do the things women like to do when they are alone, like put a shower cap on and deep condition my hair or pass gas freely without having to hold it in until everyone else leaves the immediate vicinity.
I’d love to hear from my readers on what their ideal Mom’s Day gift is. It would be funny to hear what some of the all time bombs are too. In the meantime I’m calling Calphalon to invite them to wake up and join the 21st century. Who knows, maybe I’ll go ahead and order an egg pan while I have them on the phone.
Excuse me?
How is it possible in 2009 that a modern magazine (Real Simple no less) can feature an antiquated ad suggesting that because I’m a mom I will be thrilled to receive some sort of appliance for Mother’s Day? Because the obvious aftermath of unwrapping that pan, or any pan, is that I will then use it to cook something. For somebody else. New washing machine? Go do some laundry why don’t ya! Vacuum cleaner? Start sucking it up honey the dust bunnies are waiting.
I happen to be married to a guy who basically gets it, so I’m confident I won’t be getting the aforementioned frittata pan on May 10. But since I have a platform to vent, I thought I’d make a short list of dos and don’ts when shopping for moms – ladies feel free to weigh in with your own hit list:
First, do not get me chocolate, cookies or any kind of baked goods. As every mom in America knows, Mother’s Day falls a scant 17 days prior to Memorial Day, the beginning of yet another long and unforgiving swimsuit season. Now is not the time to trip us up.
Don’t take me to some overpriced all-you-can-eat brunch. See reason above.
Unless you went to see Vicky, do not buy me a “warm” robe, “cozy” slippers, or “comfy” pj’s. I do not want to look or feel like my mother on Mother’s Day.
Do think outside the box. Why not create a really cool playlist of songs you think I’d like and then send me off with a tall, cool drink to chill out and groove.
Make me a mimosa. Because champagne is fun, especially in the morning, and because it’s impossible not to smile when you say “mimosa.”
Take the kids to a matinee. This may surprise you but I actually love my home when I’m the only one in it. No one leaving piles to be picked up. Nobody bugging me for snacks, sex or both. It also lets me do the things women like to do when they are alone, like put a shower cap on and deep condition my hair or pass gas freely without having to hold it in until everyone else leaves the immediate vicinity.
I’d love to hear from my readers on what their ideal Mom’s Day gift is. It would be funny to hear what some of the all time bombs are too. In the meantime I’m calling Calphalon to invite them to wake up and join the 21st century. Who knows, maybe I’ll go ahead and order an egg pan while I have them on the phone.
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