Ode To A Periodical
Please stop calling me. I don�t want your magazine anymore. Really. I mean it. Why, you ask? Are you sure you can handle it? Because I�ll be glad to tell you. Basically, your magazine doesn�t speak to me. If you get my drift. Your articles either cause me panic (So. Many. Bad. Things. Can. Happen. To. Your. Child. Because. They. Happened. To. Mine.) or attempt to wring out tears of sympathy for women who�ve lost a child, have a child with �challenges,� have lost a spouse, have battled a deadly illness, have had trouble conceiving, etc. I don�t have time for it. Got my own problems. Am I callous to others� pain? No, but I have too much going on in my own life to start sobbing about how bad others have it. Just seems a bit gratuitous, almost as if I�m peeking through a stranger�s window while she yells at her kids.
Also, are you trying to make me feel guilty for working full-time? Because it isn�t going to work. I have to work and I like what I do and I like to be somewhere during the day where I can pee when I please�without sharing the bathroom. Where I can leave my office and not worry about some small hand picking the stapler off my desk and impaling her hand with it. Where I can have a conversation with an adult that�s not constantly interrupted by, �Excuse me, excuse me, mommy I have to tell you something.� Plus, there�s the thing about being breadwinner and being able to pay the mortgage, the electricity, the phone, the well guy, the septic tank man. Which is one of my main responsibilities as Parent. Correct me if I�m wrong.
But, in case you still aren�t convinced, here are some other reasons I don�t wish to resubscribe:
Number One: You are a Disney Whore. I don�t want to hear about the Editor�s trip to Disney World, that bastion of Buy Our Crap and your children can be (white) princes and princesses. Not only are you a D.W., but you�re a Products Whore, which I guess could be said about most magazines aimed at women (and why you call yourself �Parents� when you�re really all about �Mommy�, I�ll never know except that maybe �Daddy� is too damn smart to read such tripe). Your magazine is nothing but a bible for the Consumeristic SUV-driving angst-ridden stay-at-home mom who thinks maybe she should be working and feels guilty or the working-part-time mom who thinks she�s not doing it right either or the kill-me-now-I�m ruining-my-children-by-working-outside-the-home-and-hiring-a-mommy-substitute-to-raise-my-children mom. How the heck will I get those brownies baked for the soccer team when I have to drive Madison and Morgan to the orthodontist? Let �em eat dirt, I say.
Number Two: Stop with the scary food shaped like other things. My daughter is too smart to be fooled by vegetables in the shape of an octopus. And, no, she won�t eat cauliflower even if it�s got Cinderella�s (see above) ass carved into it. Who the hell are these women who have time to arrange food into the shape of tigers and chicks? Here�s your dinner, kid: PB&J, raisins, olives, carrot sticks and cheese. Eat it or don�t. As long as the food items don�t come in contact with one another, she�s gonna eat it. Or not. I don�t subscribe to Clean Plate Magazine or Make �Em Sit There Til They Finish Digest. Kids will eat when they�re hungry and it�s usually best if the carrot sticks are not poked through the grilled cheese sandwich. Trust me on this.
Number Three: Why must all your �fun desserts� involve so much goddamn sugar? I�ve managed to raise a child who can find an apple to be a lovely snack. Or a small, unadorned brownie, every once in awhile. Sure, she likes sugar but that doesn�t mean it�s good for her. (Remember the one about all your friends jumping off the bridge?) I�m not going to make cupcakes with 12 inches of rainbow icing on top. Interesting how one article will talk about encouraging healthy eating and the danger of obesity, and I turn the page to find recipes for making Sugar Coated Sugar Squares and Fatty Meatballs in Gristle Sauce (mmm, mmm!). And, could you stop with the juice ads? Juice is empty calories, full of sugar and has none of the fiber found in, say, an actual piece of fruit. Children are much better off with water and a banana than a cup of juice.
Number Four: Oh, how I love those crafty, crafty �art� projects that fill our �kwality� time! Because it�s all about outcome, isn�t it? It�s all about the product (see #1), not the process. And, as we all know, our little chick baskets ALWAYS end up looking like the ones on page 13. Why can�t we, as parents, focus on process? Why can�t children just experiment with art supplies and materials without feeling like they�re supposed to make something that looks like something. Yes, children are learning to interpret and interact with their universe and it�s a milestone to draw a circle and call it �cat.� But must it have triangle ears and three perfectly straight whiskers on either side? Can�t �cat� be any damn squiggle the child creates? Or, can�t the squiggle simply be? I adore watching Dusty�s ability to draw representative figures (her bats and pumpkins are truly masterpieces) but not every session with crayons and Playdoh should have a particular result other than just using crayons and Playdoh.
Number Five: Stop scaring me. One of the reasons I stopped reading books about pregnancy and childbirth and babies halfway through my pregnancies was because I was tired of being confronted with all the Horrible Things That Can Happen. Yes, yes, it�s nice to know the Warning Signs of every conceivable illness (half of which can lead to death if you don�t call the pediatrician at the first sign of a fever), but that�s why we have reference books on childhood � to refer to as needed. I don�t need to be reminded every minute of the dangers of plastic bags, window blind cords, sleeping on your stomach, lead in paint, breathing air, eating food. I can�t take it anymore.
So, find some other sucker to send you $20. Mine�s going towards fresh fruit and construction paper.
