Category Archives: Parental Guidance

Unreasonable Anger Theatre Presents: Kids Wear the Darnedest Things

Something dumb that drives me nuts: Kids who refuse to dress up.

This is not an Adult Feeling for me, or a Parent Feeling. Even when I was a kid, it really bothered me when I saw other kids at a fancy function dressed in jeans and sneakers.

Maybe it was because I had to get dressed up all the time to go to Witness meetings. So I’d think to myself, Hey, kid, I gotta put a suit on three times a week. You can’t put on friggin’ tie for Aunt Clara’s 90th birthday?

I don’t come from fancy people, by any stretch of the imagination. But I do come from a family where you know that sometimes you have to dress nice. And “nice” doesn’t mean “expensive”. It just means “not showing up to a funeral in a Budweiser t-shirt.”

It doesn’t take a lot of money to not look like a slob. I wore SalVay suits as a kid. Hell, I wore sub-SalVay suits. I wore suits from this nasty-ass thrift store in our local town that smelled like an armpit. Every time I set foot in that place, it took a few weeks off my life, from a combination of intense fear I would be spotted there and the airborne contaminants inside it. Seriously, I think it was built on top of a former pesticide testing facility.

But you know what? We were too damn poor to turn up our noses at such bargains. After a delousing, the suits looked fine. Plus, there was the occasional pearl hidden within. I once managed to snag a vinyl copy of Monty Python’s rare three-sided record for like a buck.

I’m aware that not everyone has what sociologists would call the “cultural capital” to know how to behave in certain social situations. But my feeling is, if you have enough money to not shop at The Pest Hole Thrift Shop like I did, you also should know how to dress at a fahncy function.

All of this childhood anger hit me anew this weekend at a party I attended. The outfits worn by people at this party ranged in their fanciness. I was at the lower end of the scale, in a nice sweater and dress shoes but also wearing a pair of jeans. Some folks were all decked out, others were closer to me. But no one looked like they just rolled out of bed and put on something that’d been laying on the floor.

Then this one kid showed up in a replica NFL jersey and sneakers, and just like that, I was FURIOUS. Because it wasn’t an old holey football top or scuffed-up Keds. No, it was sparkling, brand-new (or well maintained) Vince Young replica and matching shoes in similarly pristine condition.

So this family had enough dough to dress him in the outfit of his choice. And everyone else he entered with wore appropriate attire. He just didn’t feel like getting dressed up. It really pissed me off, in the kind of blind, dumb way that you can only be pissed off when you’re a kid and you find something WRONG and UNFAIR!

And I see NO WAY in which this post could come back to bite me in the ass when my own child refuses to get dressed up some day!

Flippin’ for Flapjack

As a parent, I’m always on the lookout for something that may warp The Baby. Not so much to shield her from harm (apart from the obvious evils), but more to spot True Weirdness that may shape her in the future.

By True Weirdness, I don’t mean someone/something that tries real hard to be weird. Some Williamsburg hipster in a handlebar mustache and a Billy Jean pleather jacket does not have True Weirdness. I’m talking about a creative expression so undiluted and genuine that the practitioner has no idea (s)he is being weird. Like some guy who lives in the middle of nowhere and who’s never been to a gallery and has no artistic ambitions at all, yet feels compelled to make sculptures out of old mufflers and crankcases.

Sadly, most kiddie fare is devoid of True Weirdness, unless you consider the preternaturally wholesome world of Barney weird. (/thrusts hand up high) SpongeBob Square Pants can get completely insane at times (in a good way), and has plenty of jokes that go way over kids’ heads. SpongeBob makes me laugh on a consistent basis, and I like that it provides steady work to Mr. Show alum Tom Kenny. Still, it’s hard to call something as popular (and lucrative) as SpongeBob Truly Weird.

There’s Yo Gabba Gabba, which is complete audio/visual crack for parents who grew up with Nintendo. And I have to applaud any kids’ show that regularly features Rahzel, Biz Markie, and Mark Mothersbaugh. But it also tries very hard to be hip. It succeeds to be sure, but this self awareness keeps it from being Truly Weird.

I have only discovered one Truly Weird kids’ show, and it is as strange as anything I’ve ever seen on television: The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack. It airs on Cartoon Network, and could totally be part of the Adult Swim lineup if it had more pottymouth. But unlike the Adult Swim shows, I don’t get the sense that it’s trying to be weird. Its simply dedicated to a bizarre mini-universe whose architect has no idea how weird his visions look to the rest of the world.

Continue reading Flippin’ for Flapjack

No Matter Who Wins, We Lose

While staying at my mother’s house over the weekend, my baby daughter woke up screaming in the middle of the night, completely inconsolable. She was wailing in a desperate and terrified way completely unfamiliar to me. And there was nothing I could do to make her stop, which gave me the worst feeling a parent can have: powerlessness. If you can help it, you don’t want your child to realize you’re completely worthless until they’re at least 10 years old.

Cry Recognition is one instinct you develop pretty early on your parental career. Like a car nut who can tell the model of classic wheels based on the sound of the engine, a parent can tell what their child wants based on the style and timbre of their cries. There are subtle yet important differences in a baby’s cry when she’s wet and a baby’s cry when she’s hungry. Or a baby’s cry when she just feels like crying and waking up everyone in the house. Babies are real dicks sometimes.

I tried whispering soothing things and I tried singing to her but she refused to even open her eyes. So I walked her into the bathroom, hoping that she’d see herself in the mirror and realize she was with her father and everything was okay. But that didn’t work either. So I finally decided to take her out to the living room and put on some kiddie show she likes. I felt like watching Teletubbies at 2 in the morning about as much as I felt like stabbing myself in the eye with a cocktail toothpick, but these are the sacrifices you make for your children.

Continue reading No Matter Who Wins, We Lose