The Mom Rule Book

I heard it throughout my childhood.  And every time I did, I burned with anger.  I will never, ever say those words, I thought to myself.  NEVER.  Those words that, when uttered by my Mom, would send me into a tailspin.  “Because I said so.”  In my little somewhat childlike logical mind – that phrase never made sense.  Just give me a reason!  Tell my “why!”  “I will never say that to my own kids,” I told my Mom.  She just smiled, making me fume even more.  So…you can imagine how I felt the first time that phrase came out of my mouth when addressing my then toddler daughter.  It was like I was outside of my body, watching and hearing myself use that same mis-logic I had had to endure as a child.  And then I smiled.   Ah-ha, I thought to myself.  I get it.  There are just certain things that are reserved for moms.  It was a light bulb moment - - Moms get to have their own set of rules!

Here are just some of the rules from my own mom rule book :

I WILL yell at you for asking me the same thing three times in a row, however,  I CAN ask you three times if you’ve brushed your teeth.  Mom Rules.

I WILL sing along to your hip-hop, super-tweeny radio station.  Especially if you have friends in the car.  Mom Rules.

I WILL watch your Disney/Nik/Cartoon Network shows with you and complain about them and ask annoying questions.  Mom Rules.

I WILL tell you to take a sweater.  No matter what the temperature.  Mom Rules.

I WILL wave at you while you are trying to perform or play a sport.  Mom Rules.

I WILL do the grocery shopping and bring home fruits and veggies for snacking and not cakes, candy and soda.  And then I WILL get mad when your Father goes out and gets the cakes, candy and soda.  Mom Rules.

I WILL do the checklist every time you are going to leave the house for an overnight --- Underwear? Toothbrush?  Socks? Etc.   Mom Rules.

I WILL tell you to go upstairs and change if I don’t like the outfit you have chosen to wear.  Mom Rules.

I WILL cry at the Hallmark commercial about dropping your child off at college, while I am feeding you your bottle at age 3 months.  For that matter, I WILL cry whenever  I want at whatever I want, usually having something to do with “my baby” growing up.  Mom Rules.

I WILL have to stop at every public restroom we pass on our errands.  Mom Rules.

 I WILL love and care for you and worry about you from the minute you are born until the day I die.  Mom Rules.

I WILL say “because I said so,” without giving you an explanation, anytime I want.  And I WOULD give anything, anything in the world to hear my Mom say it one more time.

MOM RULES!

OH, O!

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Oprah has ended her daily talk show after 25 seasons.  I know, right?  Shocker!   The Big O has closed her (metaphorical) doors and trotted off into the sunset, never to be heard from again.  Right!  If you believe we won’t hear from her again, you are living under a rock.

I have had myself quite a love/hate relationship with the Big O over the years.  Here is the LOVE.  Feel it…feel the love:

Without that 4pm fix every day, the nation would have been lost.  Whether you are willing to admit it or not, O has touched your life in some way.  Everyone at one time or another has heard about, talked about, or watched what Oprah did yesterday.  A typical week of shows ran the gamut of emotions: Mon. – Tom Hanks chats up his new movie; Tues. – Donna Summer, Peeeoooplle! Disco is not dead!; Wed. – Discrimination in the Deep South, has anything changed?; Thurs. – surprise makeovers; Fri . – Victims of abuse confront their predators.  Just your normal, typical lineup of shows.  Only O could get away with such a variety and not be criticized.  Because, “oh no you don’t!”, you don’t criticize the Big O.  Ever! 

It never mattered to us what the topic of the day was going to be.  If it was 4:00 – Oprah was on.  Period.  We welcomed the variety.  We marveled at her versatility, and we loved watching her weight go up and down.  It was our guilty pleasure; our water cooler talk; our “aha moments.”  I learned a lot from O through the years.  I laughed and cried with her and her guests.  I marveled at her success.  I will always admire O for what she came from, and all that she has been able to achieve.

However…

Now for the hate part of my love/hate relationship. Well, hate is a very strong word.  Let’s just say Extremely Aggravating!  I will absolutely agree that Big O is THE number one expert in marketing herself.  I admire that in a person.  To have the confidence to “go for it” is something I have always been lacking.  But really…must we?  Let’s begin with her interview technique.  I can sum it up in one sentence.  Ask a question and then interrupt as much as possible to get the focus back on ME.  Look at some of the old tapes of her show.  The “interrupt technique” has grown to an epic proportion over the years.  She never lets a person finish a sentence.  NEVER!  I scream at the television, “SHUT UP, O!” I want to hear the answer.

Then there is the name dropping.  How she works the names Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou and Chris Rock into a conversation about buying the right bra is both annoying and genius.  We know you know people, O.  You don’t need to remind us every second of every show.

Let’s talk about the Magazine.  You knew it was coming, didn’t you? I’ll start with this – I do enjoy the magazine.  Some of the articles are very inspiring, informative, interesting.  I love looking at the O List (a section of favorite products of the month), however, can a normal person afford anything on the O list? Sorry, O, uh…we don’t make the money you do!  $150 for bath salts is a little pricey for the normal American!

And then there is… you know what I’m going to say.  That one thing that makes me think twice about buying the mag in the first place.  Even my daughter noticed it.  We were in a grocery store back when she was about 5 or 6, and we were looking at the newsstand.  She said “Mom, why does Oprah ALWAYS HAVE TO BE ON THE COVER?”  AAAHH.  Good question my child, and how very observant of you.  I guess because it is HER magazine and you can’t forget it!

As if a magazine cover every month wasn’t enough, now we have the ultimate.  We have our OWN network.  How fortunate that the initials of Oprah Winfrey Network  are OWN.  How in the heck did she work that one out?  It’s MY network.  Just like it’s MY magazine.  MINE.  MIIIIINNNNNEEE, PEEEOOOOPPPLLLLEEE!  I decide the shows that go on.  I decide what America will watch from here on out.  Me.  It’s my little way of controlling the world.  Until I can, actually, control the world.  Which will come, mark my words.  

Oh, O!

Flicks for Chicks!

“Someone once told me to write well, you have to write what you know.  Well here’s what I know…”  Okay, yes.  I stole that.  Completely, word for word from one of my favorite movies.  There are some movies that you can watch again and again, and you never tire of them.  You have the lines memorized. You know what parts you don’t want to miss; you know when to go to the bathroom.  For me, these are movies  affectionately known (and named by the male species I bet) as “Chick Flicks.”

Don’t get me wrong.  I am discriminatory about which chick flicks fall into my “watch over and over” category.  I am a sucker for a happy ending.  If it is corny and predictable, so be it.  Don’t give me the “dying of a fatal disease” movie.  Don’t make me sit through the “perfect for each other, yet can never live together so they walk away from each other a la Streisand and Redford” viewing.   I MUST have the happy ending.

I did NOT have a very romantic or date-filled teen life (that is a whole blog in itself) so I guess I learned early to live vicariously.  Some of my first loves in this genre were movie musicals; better known as the “spontaneously burst into song and dance”, chick flick.  “Those Sabine Women” in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.”  Harold Hill finally admitting that he got is “foot caught in the door.”   Judy falling for the “Boy Next Door,” and then not having to move from St. Louis.  They don’t get cornier or chick flickier than that folks.

At this time I also discovered the teen chick flick.  16 Candles ( “Thanks for getting my panties back.”), Breakfast Club (An athlete, a basket case, a princess, blah blah blah”).  My affection for these movies  morphed into made for TV smarmy Hallmark and Lifetime goodies that are absolutely irresistible to me. 

My DVR is filled with the last 15 minutes of what many would not consider stellar cinema, but to me – they are feel good moments. I watch Justin Long return a pen to Ginnifer Goodwin.  I see Ryan Reynolds confront Sandra Bullock about leaving him at the altar with the whole office watching.  James Marsden admits to Kathryn Heigel, “I cried like a baby at the Keller wedding!”) Over and Over I die when Michael Vartan runs across the baseball field to give Drew Barrymore the kiss she deserves.

Ridiculously crazy genre? Some may think so.  Waste of time? Most likely.  Predictable, formulaic, corny? Definitely.

But, these flicks make me feel good.  They make me forget reality for a while.  Let’s face it – with all that is going on in the world today, and in our lives, we deserve a little distraction.  Smarmy, happy endings make my day!