Last week, I took a trip to the Apple store. Oh, the Apple store. It’s like a Dylan’s Candy Bar for adults. Like it’s namesake, in the Garden of Eden, or in the hands of Snow White’s evil stepmother, APPLE was so inviting… so enticing. There it was, in all of its overcrowded, 8 gazillion watt minimalistic splendor. Continue reading
That’s my confession. Barbie hasn’t fiendishly ruined my daughter’s self image — quite the opposite — she’s helped her learn to solve problems, to be accepting, to stretch her imagination, and to have compassion.
As a card carrying Gen-Xer, I had an obsession with Barbies. I played with them until I was nearly 14, which I try not to admit in public because at that age, your Barbies are basically having make-out sessions that lead to awkward Barbie hookups, which is both ironic and also impossible – hello, has anyone seen Ken’s crotchal region?
I have something to tell you; please don’t spread it around, as it’s somewhat of a secret. I screamed “shut up” at my son today. “SHUT UP!” not “shush” or “sshhhhh” or even “ferme la bouche.” No, “Shut Up.” I didn’t say it in a whisper, or even hiss it through clenched teeth. I yelled it in a vein popping tone, and it felt sort of good, aside from the fear of having an aneurism. I hate to admit it, but in the moment I actually enjoyed the shock value.
In my house, “shut up” is still the “S” word. That and “stupid”…fine, it’s “shit” also (look, we’re not Amish). “Shut up” is a phrase that I – a person who has managed to use“Shniekees” and “Gaylord Focker” in place of harsher expletives for the last 7 years – have never uttered to my children.
Had I witnessed you on the street saying – no, screaming – that to your child, I would have judged you with disdain. I may have even considered calling child services on you. Now, I’m the one with the scarlet letter. I’m just a few more outbursts from a knock at the door.
I’m not going to tell you what my son did, but just know, he started it! Fine, I’ll tell you. He was yelling at me, telling me “No,” contradicting me, and being incredibly obnoxious all at once, and all at warp speed. He never took a breath. I didn’t know whether to punish or have him try out for the swim team.
The funny thing is, I just finished writing an article about the Spanking / IQ study, and here I am doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do… “ensuring my child will need hours of therapy.” Way to go Jenny. Though I don’t believe in it, I would have been better off calmly putting him over my knee; at least I would have had more self-control.
The worst part of this whole confession inducing incident was the look on his face. It was somewhere between “Uh-oh, you said a bad word!” and a lip biting, “Sniff, sniff. You said that bad word to ME?” As I’ve said before, I subscribe to the book of damage control parenting. Doing as little damage as possible, and controlling the damage you’ve done. This was one of those times I had to control the damage. Somewhat in shock myself, I had to regroup and think of my options: Apologize, use candy or some other bribe to gloss over it, or explain my actions. I went the obvious route, and when he finished licking the Kit Kat residue off his fingers, I said I was sorry.
I’ll tell you, when my kids were little, I would have sworn this day would never come. How could you look at those sweet chubby cheeks and imagine they could ever frustrate you so much? Conversely, when I told a few of my friends the story, they were shocked at how long I’d held out.
Wait a minute, I think there’s some praise in there. I amazed people with my nearly infinite patience. I deserve a medal, not a scornful eye. I take it all back… I am the best mom; it took me almost 8 years to tell my child to “shut up.” Wahoo! See, if you practice patience (but not too much), and bottle up frustration like seltzer (that your kids can agitate until it pops), you too can astound people. Then you can start a blog, and when you do terrible horrible things, you can seek contrition by telling hundreds, dare I say thousands, of people about them.
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I’m not gonna name names, as I would certainly be one of them, but there are distinct qualities that describe most Facebookers.
The Over Sharer -This person seems to think that a trip to the store, a traffic jam, or the weather is worth repeating. They give updates like a minute to minute log. “Sitting in traffic.” “When will it stop raining?” “Just left SB, grande cap, mmmmm.” The Over Sharer is also the most enabled of all personalities. Other Over Sharers are constantly responding to their minute to minutes with fascinating epiphanies like “LOL” or “Rain makes me sleepy” or “Love Starbucks J” (Yes, let’s not forget the smileys, winkeys, and frowneys.)
The Workout Addict and the Closet Alcoholic -These people are actually the same, personality-wise. They feel the need to tell you what they’re drinkin’ or what they’re doin’ in the gym… and the stats. I think they’re both sending signals that require intervention. “20 mile jog, 500 sit-ups and feelin’ it.” “5 mojitos, ahhh” Not only do they flaunt the accomplishments of their pastimes, they like to question their friends as to whether or not to do it. “Do I climb a mountain, or go to the 10:15 spin?” “Drinks with the boys at Lucky’s, or sit on the couch with a cold one?”
The Just “is” – At first I thought these people were publishing this status by accident, but then I realized certain people do it more than others. Either they have sausage fingers and can’t work the keyboard or they just “are.” What does that mean? Is that a call for sympathy a cry for help? A Buddhist feeling of zen? You people are too profound for me. ):
The Gibbrisher -Everyone knows a Gibbrisher. This person speaks in code. Code that at least one friend understands, while the other 500 hundred friends are wondering what the hell, “is so $ due MJ explosion!” means? LMAO
The TMIer -This person is like the Over Sharer in that they have too much time, but takes it one step further by including info about last night’s sex, a bout of diarrhea, or an overly itchy rash. Anytime you talk about your own genitals in any fashion, you fall into this category, BEWARE. TMI
The Self Promoter -Don’t waste your time thinking, “Oh, the irony,” I know this is me. This person thinks that their business is of the utmost importance, TO YOU. They don’t want you to miss a single sale, review, TV spot, story, or promo. They ask that you join the 50 fan clubs, groups, and subscription sites that they have spent valuable work time setting up. Don’t think we, I mean they don’t check to see if you join every one of those clubs and sites! IMHO
Honorable mention: The Quoter and The Lyricist.
BTW-There will be a sequel. I would love to hear about your experiences with these personalities and the other personalities you have encountered.
OMG I almost forgot please join my fan page on FB , seriously!
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I am now freelancing for iVillage, which is an amazing site for women. They cover enough issues to give me work and let me keep the humor in my essays. Those pieces will not be printed on my site as it is against my contract. I will give you the links as I get them and I am so happy to share the news with you all. The first article is
Do You Have a Case of Nanny Envy? I hope you read it, tweet it, FB it, email it, and continue to enjoy me here at Suburban Jungle!
Thanks for your unwavering support!
J from the B
PS- if you haven’t read iCan’t iStand the iApple Store, do so. It set new records on my site!!!