The 21st Century SAHM

                                            (That’s me in the back, looking like I just stepped out of Wayne’s World…)

So I thought I knew what parenthood would be like. Because I was a kid once, who had parents. And since that is all I knew, I figured… yeah, it will be a lot like that. Maybe a little different, but not too much.

Hell fricking no. I have been schooled pretty much every waking day on how much my life is NOT like that of the parents I knew from the glorious 1980s.

SAHMs: ALL of the moms on my happy little cul-de-sac growing up were SAHMs. My mom had a village of instant gal-pals. They sat at the kitchen table and drank coffee (or wine, depending on time of day, or maybe depending on our behavior… I don’t know) and smoked cigarettes did each other’s perms. There were moms everywhere, all the time. When I became a SAHM (on a cul-de-sac, in suburbia — not trying to be trendy city mom here), I stepped outside to take my new baby for a walk, and… crickets. Where was everyone? Where were the moms? Where were my new-immediate-gossipy-drink-in-the-middle-of-the-day friends? Well, as it turns out, newsflash: lots of mommies work. So moving onto a mini-van ridden street with all gray(ish) or tan(ish) houses, attached garages, and an elementary school within spitting distance… doesn’t guarantee you’ll be gabbing away ala Betty Draper and her Virginia Slims with the neighbors at noon.

(My 80s dad and mom—with her kick-ass perm)

Play: Okay, here was playing in the 80s:

“Mom, can we go outside to play?”

“Yes.” Mom (on the phone) turns back to the stove, wrapping the phone cord around her, and stirs dinner.

Outside, you and your friends played tag, hide-and-seek, kickball, or rolled around in dirt.

(“This dirt is AWESOME!”)

Now, kids CANNOT play outside unless they are fenced in, there are bouncers at all exits monitoring the coming and going of all children and checking IDs, a police officer and fire truck on the corner, and cell phones in their pockets so they can text Mom in 3 minute intervals:

“Had snowball fight.”

“Made epic snow fort.”

“Hungry.”

“Ate snow. Made sure was white.”

80s kids were tough. We ate yellow snow on a dare and flew down hills on rolled up pieces of plastic.

(Like my big sis here, ready to unroll her sled…)

Also, there is NO free play left. We helicopter parents keep them under lock and key unless we are carting them off to tennis, or piano, or dance, or baseball, or soccer, or art camp, or Boy Scouts, or Girl Scouts, or fencing, or basketball, or… or… etc. When do kids have time to find huge piles of dirt to roll around in?

Toys:

(You know your parents had that lawn chair too.)

The 80s child played on metal (tin, really) swing-sets that our parents could lift with one hand to move while mowing the lawn. The 80s girl had one pink bicycle with a banana seat and a basket in front, in which she could store her candy cigarettes. She occasionally enjoyed an ice cream with a wooden “spoon” from the ice cream man. Children today, however, are deprived if they do not have a bike, a scooter, roller blades, a big wheel, a swing set that cost a year’s college tuition, and 4 battery-operated bubble machines.

(More lawn chair sightings… and evidence of the banana seat bike with basket for holding contraband)

 

Sub category: Bubbles:

1980s bubbles = bottle of bubbles (likely dishwasher liquid) + stick

Today’s “bubbles” = high powered machinery that churn out bubbles with rapid fire pace. For 11 minutes. Because then the batteries die and/or the bubble solution runs out. But wait! You MUST refill the bubble machine with the correct bubble solution or it will not work properly. Ack! What kind is it? Bubble Mania? Millions of Bubbles? Bubbles Forever? Don’t mess this up, 2016 Mommy!

Snacks: Speaking of ice cream with a wooden spoon and candy cigarettes… 80s moms had it easy. Throw a pile of these

out the window with some Tang and call it good. 2016 Mommy? Hell no. Unless your snacks have a big fat “dye-free, gluten-free, organic, made with locally grown all natural free-range fruit that was free to roam and grow in peace and harmony with all other fruits” sticker on it, you’re screwed. NO coffee dates for you.

So there it is. The reality of parenthood, 2016. At least one thing hasn’t changed: We still drink a lot of coffee and maybe an occasional mid-day pick me up. And we should really bring perms back too.

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image credit: “Handi-Snacks – open” by J.smith – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Handi-Snacks_-_open.jpg#/media/File:Handi-Snacks_-_open.jpg