Friday, July 3, 2015

My Kids Are Having a "1970's Childhood" But Not Because I'm a Good Parent

I keep reading all this shit online about "how to give your kids a 1970's childhood." The audience for these articles (I think) is perfectionist helicopter moms who are all strung out from carpooling and Whole Foods and Pinterest.

The basic message is that you're supposed to chill the fuck out, ditch Mandarin immersion, and let your kids eat bologna and American cheese on Wonder Bread while drinking from the garden hose and making a rocket ship out of a shoebox and pipe cleaners. Like they should be watching Dukes of Hazard, Good Times, and Days of Our Lives back-to-back and riding a ten-speed until dusk with no helmet or hands.

This trend couldn't have come at a better time for me. It plays to my inherent laziness while giving me excellent cover for pretending that my laziness is conscious parenting of some kind.

Case in point: as we speak, my kids are tearing each other limb from limb (figuratively speaking, I think) while sorting spent plastic BB's that they found buried in rubber playground "hay" and gluing them to a piece of paper. 

Meanwhile, I'm drinking coffee and Bailey's and clacking away on a laptop while listening to live-streaming Grateful Dead. It's all very 70's. Well, the alcohol and the Grateful Dead part. Not the part with the laptop streaming music it would have cost me thousands of dollars to see live. That part is decidedly 2015.

Don't worry though. I took my kids outside once today already, to a beach where lots of other kids were present. It was super 70's the way they were tromping through the forest and the adults were chilling out drinking G&Ts. 

Oh. And I'm letting them stay up until midnight to see the fireworks tonight, so I'll also be incorporating the 1970's "put your damn self to bed with Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys" procedure into the mix. 

I'm so glad I'm ahead of this whole thing. I'm going to write a book and it's gonna be HUGE!



1 comment:

  1. I like this idea! I used to ride my bike miles away from home when I was 11 years old, and the only thing my parents said was "Be home when the streetlights come on."

    ReplyDelete