I really am, someone needs to call social services on me. I may not be as bad as the woman who made make-shift straight jackets out of pajama tops but only because I didn’t think of it when they were little and now they are too big for me to wrestle.
Today marks the 40 anniversary of Sesame Street. I remember watching Sesame Street when I was a kid, which would have been right when the show started. One of my first memories was of running to find my grandmother, who had come to take care of my brother and me when my mom got sick, and telling her that the “Manamana” Song was on.
My grandmother was cool, she loved the Manamana song as much as I did. My grandma was cool in so many ways that I didn’t fully understand until I was older. Aside from being a fantastic cook she loved to entertain. When I was about 18 I went to Ohio to visit her and she and I walked to the shopping area of her town to buy booze for her gathering. Grandma didn’t drive. I didn’t understand why back then but as I tell this story I think I might know why. She bought Jack Daniels, her favorite, and another bottom shelf whiskey so she could fill her old, empty bottle of Jack with the cheap stuff for guests. My grandmother was a wealthy woman but had lived during the depression and it was apparently normal to save the good stuff for yourself.
But I’m getting off topic.
Remembering the days when I watched Sesame Street, even if they were completely chaotic because of my mom being in the hospital for so long, made me realize that I am doing a horrible job of raising my kids.
This morning as I am packing my daughter’s lunch I asked her to go and get dressed for school. Not a big deal except she had slept in her clothing from the night before and I actually considered allowing her to go without changing. It would save all sorts of time and that is something I never seem to have enough of. If it hadn’t been for the frosting stains on her shirt from breakfast I could have gotten away with it.
Yes, I said frosting stains from breakfast.
We had some titty cup cakes left over from the party and when she asked for one for breakfast I actually heard the words of Bill Cosby in my head saying “hmmm, cake is made from flour and eggs, the same thing in pancakes, of course you can have cup cakes for breakfast”. Bill Cosby is considered a fantastic father so his advice must be right?
We never had cupcakes for breakfast and to wear my clothes from the day to bed would have been unheard of. I wore pajamas until I was in my teens and then thought they were silly and started wearing t-shirts to bed. My kids have worn t-shirts to bed since they outgrew their first pair of footy pajamas. I just don’t see any reason to buy clothing to sleep in.
We ate dinner together every night. Dinner was always at 7:30 which frustrated my brother and me to no end because all of our friends ate at Catholic Feeding Time which was 6pm. They had already eaten, cleaned up and were back outside playing when my brother and I had to sit down to eat. We wouldn’t finish cleaning up until after 8 and by then everyone had gone inside. We ate at 7:30 because my parents liked to watch the news, have a couple of cocktails and relax before dinner started. Because my brother and I wanted to be outside playing with everyone, and because we were hungry, we were often crabby at dinner time. We’d pick fights with one another which then meant we would have to stay at the dinner table until we made up. Often we’d sit there until 9pm, finally faking the make up and moving our separate ways only to find all our friends had long since gone to bed and we were thus forced to play together.
I don’t know how my parents did it. Yeah, they had a cleaning lady who came in every day and nannies for my brother and me but how much do things like that really help? I blame my lack of formality on my lack of a husband. When I had one around I was able to spend a lot more time on things like eating at the dinner table, actually preparing a three course meal, dressing the kids in sleep clothes and still I managed to get to bed by the beginning of the Leno show. I’m lucky if I can get the daughter to bed by the end of the Leno show. Granted it starts an hour earlier now but still that is too late. When I had a husband I cared about the house and having all the laundry folded and put away. Now I am lucky if I get a shower every day. I honestly don’t know what happened. When did time start speeding up?
40 years can make such a difference, and I don’t even drink Jack Daniels.