you don’t know how good you have it

It was a rainy Saturday when I ventured down the stairs and into the basement.

I heard a familiar song coming out of the TV. It was Gene Wilder cooing the soothing ballad of ‘Pure Imagination’. Leh sigh for childhood memories, and I’ll never forget watching that movie on replay when our teachers had better things to do in school than bother with us {we were beside ourselves when the media cart wheeled into the room – never mind it would most definitely crush us all in immediate death if it fell over and hit us}.

We were winning at life.

I loved the way he took a bite out of the tiny yellow candy tea cup when he finished that song. It’s funny, the things you remember from childhood.

I wished I had a golden goose and the giant gummy bears, and an everlasting gobstopper. Even though the whole grandparents sitting in the unsanitary bed situation kinda stressed me out, I loved about every other element in the entire movie. 

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That’s when I was horrified over the words coming from my middle’s mouth:

“You see Malone?” she laughed. “This is what Mommy and Daddy had to watch when they were our age!”

The youngest nodded in somber agreement.

“It was so sad!” She could barely finish, she was laughing so hard.  

Excuse me smarty pants? I was both equally offended and extremely humored. I couldn’t help but laugh, since, well, technology has come a long way since the original Willy Wonka. They’ve actually never seen the original, and I just know the little ingrates would love it.

This is pretty much my reaction to anything these days: 

I could say that kids don’t really have the attention span that we did – but I’m actually pretty sure I also didn’t have the attention span required for these movies. There were just no other options. You want to watch a movie? You have to sit through all the credits, before it even begins. And good luck with those musical numbers – they’re guaranteed to last a good eight minutes.

Commercials were a thing, we all had them memorized. Real fear was dashing to the bathroom in between the Chicken Noodle Soup bit where the kid melts off from being a snowman, and “The best part of waking up, is Folgers in your CUUUUPPPPP!” All so you could see how ‘Thundercats’ ended. 

We get it. New technology paired with Johnny D and his latest bizzaro role, {and he rocks said roles} really stepped it up a notch in the watchability department.

But I suddenly sounded defensive to my own little Veruca Salt.

“You don’t know how good you have it!” I was now laughing along but also singing with the song at the top of my lungs, to make my point that THIS IS A CLASSIC AND YOU WILL LOVE IT. 

And also, when did I get so old?!

I wanted to prop her eyes open a-la clockwork orange, and make her watch ALL THE MUSICALS of my day.

I AM Annie and I can still sing all the words but that’s besides the point…

“My parents sent me outside to play, and I had to stay out there!” I suddenly wanted to rant. Before I knew it, I was about to dive into the whole “I had to walk to school both ways uphill barefoot in the snow” bit. The struggle is real.

This is the part where I gripe about young people these days.

But I get tired of that whole, the next generation is the problem, shtick. Or any generation is the problem. {I.E. If I see one more baby boomer griping about a millennial on Facebook, I’m out. Why so angry?! And I’m not even a millennial, it just bothers me.} So let’s flip this on it’s head. The pure beauty and way of looking at it really is, how easy the generations before us had it with parenting.

If I want to give my kids a good old fashioned 70’s/80’s summer, I’ll lock them outside until they have heat exhaustion, make them drink from a water hose, {that causes cancer now, btw- just like everything else} and if I’m feeling super generous, mix up some Tang to drink.

I’ll probs throw bologna and kraft processed cheese sandwiches at them through the crack in the door when they get hungry. I’ll pop a Tab and smoke a ciggy and sit on my sofa while I watch ‘my stories’. And child welfare will not be called because my kids decide to hike it down the nearest Seven Eleven and buy a plethora of candy bars and cokes. When my husband comes home and wants dinner {because I was watching my stories and that’s what women do, we provide the dinner} I’ll serve up some Hamburger Helper with a side of Jello. And I won’t be burned at the stake when I choose to not serve organic strawberries at my next summer gathering, because those don’t exist.

Chemicals for the win and nobody cares. 

Douse your angry mob torches, because you probably see my sarcasm. {Also, my mom will want everyone to know she did not smoke ciggies, and she was definitely a Diet Coke gal back in the day.} I just feel like we battle so much in the parenting department with each generation, and the stereotypes work both ways.

And also, I’m most definitely kidding, because this is basically my parenting style this summer.  

You don’t know how good you have it. 

I took the kids with me to the store the other day. And then another store. And then you know what we did on top of that? We went to another store. My kids, all three of them, were practically face-first in bereaved planking a-la the dirty Publix floor.

I mean, can you imagine?

The audacity that I made them RUN ERRANDS WITH ME?! They pretty much did this:

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They could not believe the stores we had to go to.

In my 80’s-90s childhood, you know what we did? We went to a store. And then another store. And another store. And probably a soccer game. And then a store again. and then church. And then the library. And then home for like ten minutes. And then to the Y for swimming lessons. And then another store. And probably a tennis match after church again. Then another store. 

The above is pure exaggeration with a side of absolutely a true story. But my point is, there was no such thing as the internets to help with the shopping necessities.

So basically, take away my Amazon Prime and/or my smart phone and I will CUT YOU. 

You don’t know how good you have it. 

I’m off to torture my children with a good round of The Brady Bunch, followed up with some Punky Brewster. If they complain, I’ll just play “Return to Oz” and TRAUMATIZE them for life. 

Some things are best left in the 80’s.

So here’s to parenting, no matter what generation you’re from. Its pros, cons, stereotypes… and everything in between. All joking aside, we think you’re amazing. Three cheers to doing your very best. And three cheers a-la Tab to Gene Wilder. They just don’t make them like they used to. 

You don’t know how good you have it.