Trusty phoned at 7am to wish me a happy mother’s day, so there was no sleeping in. The girls are away, so there was no breakfast in bed. In all honesty, there was no breakfast. There is coffee and yawning and bitter loneliness, with ample time to exact my revenge.
This mother’s day I am going to sit my children down and give them a lecture about how easy they’ve got it. They’re not home till this afternoon, shit, I’ve got time to put together a PowerPoint presentation. It’ll go something like this:
Back in my day, we had it tough – it wasn’t all Michael Jackson and crimped hair I’ll have you know.
I’ll play them the film clip of ‘Funky Cold Medina’ and tell them that was what ‘cool’ looked like. Tone Loc was so desperate to get laid in the 80′s, he drank some kind of poison and tried it on with his dog and then a transsexual. You have to admire the man for speaking out about it. Yeah the 80′s were tough on all of us.
If that disturbing lycra-bling-cowbell combo doesn’t scare them, I’ll play MC Hammer’s ‘You Can’t Touch This’ and explain how this strange-pants-phenomenon gripped the nation, forcing unsuspecting hordes of people to wear ridiculously large pants as they struggled to exact equally ridiculous dance moves. Hammer pants, Parachute pants, Poo catchers: they went by many names. Here’s the scary part – my mother decided these pants looked ‘comfy’ and so she went ahead and purchased something very much like this…
As they shake their little non-believing heads, I’ll drag out the old family albums and expose my mother in all her floral-hammer-pantsed glory.
Next, we’ll watch ’2 Legit 2 Quit’, the epitome of early 90′s film clips with it’s baggy pants, cropped jackets, oversized shiny buttons on every available garment, tall gel-enhanced pointy hair, bouncy signature dance moves, signature sign language and prolific unabashed use of celebrity endorsement. In my day, children, fame did not drive celebrities to drink and drugs. It drove them to excess – excess of ego, excessively over-budgeted film clips, excessive hair, excessive lack of clothing in the chestal area. And when their time in the limelight came to a brutally sudden end, they didn’t drink drive, shoplift and snort coke, they became ministers. (ok, well maybe in this one instance)
I just wonder why no one pointed out to Hammer at the time that he was, in fact, just the right amount of legit to quit.
(Full credit to Hammer though for putting the Unitard out there years before Borat ruined it for everyone)
So, at this point, if my children are not already twitching and wondering in absolute awe how on earth I ever survived my harrowing childhood and blossomed into the wonderful mother I am today, I will pull out my tweenage photo album and reveal all the horror in plain view.
- white boots with studs
- extremely highwaisted white denim skirt
- shiny plastic belt
- ‘prickle’ haircut
- hairspray. a lot of it.
- bad home bleach job
- homemade 90′s gypsy top cutting off circulation in my arms
And that’s just one photo! (my first high school disco, I thought I looked good, ok? – hey you didn’t actually think I’d upload pics did you? Hahahaha)
So now, the plan is for my children to reach this stage in the lecture feeling nothing but admiration for their good old mother who survived extremely bad hair, music and fashion to get where she is today. My children will be suddenly overcome with gratitude and appreciation for everything I’ve provided for them, for the complete lack of hairspray in their lives and for the promise that I will never sit down at my sewing machine and attempt to integrate the latest Beyonce outfit into my wardrobe in a multitude of floral prints.
I love you kiddo’s, now cook mama some dinner:)
