Showing posts with label Britney Spears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britney Spears. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Apocalypse Fatigue

UN Climate Change Summit Enters Final Week

A worldwide financial crisis, record job losses, a recession-damn-near-Depression, earthquakes (one just struck Mexico yesterday!), the 2012 end-of-days prediction, the Swine Flu pandemic, melting Arctic ice shelves and the return of Britney Spears . . . pure chaos!
And now they just discovered a mosquito in Torrance, California, with West Nile Virus. (How’d you like that job, by the way -- keeping a close watch on mosquitoes?!)

Is anyone else just a little, teensie-bit exhausted, emotionally, from all the doom and gloom? Doug McIntyre, my favorite morning talk-show host on 790 KABC-AM (he's funny and quite brilliant), described this current sociological condition as “Apocalypse Fatigue,” which is so spot-on. It’s a wonder we can even get out of bed in the morning!

I’ve lived half my life already, so if these are the last days, I’m not real happy about it, but at least I got to experience some ups and downs of life. I’m still hoping to win the lottery, become rich and famous and find true love eventually. If I’m lucky, maybe I can get all this accomplished by the time the Mayan calendar runs out on December 21, 2012.

I asked my teenager what she thought about all this Apocalypse talk, curious as to how young people felt who may be cheated out of the opportunity of a long life and all the wonderful moments that come with it. She told me that she would rather die as a teenager than as an adult. I asked her why:

“Because adults are boring, and I’d rather go out having fun.”

Alrighty then . . . so, what about missing out on having kids, being a mom and getting married – and not in that order, girlfriend! – I asked?

She said, “I don’t want to have kids, mom, because childbirth hurts.” I wanted to correct her and say, “No, it’s the raising of children that really hurts,” but I thought it best to just shut-up.

She offered some more of her insights: “Besides, I don’t believe in the idea of marriage – of being with the same person for the rest of your life.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because, well, I kind of agree with her. But as a parent, I’m supposed to send her out into the world with hope and optimism, so I told her that if she found a good man, she would want to keep him. And have babies with him. That is, of course, after college, launching her career, several years of dating and a reasonably-priced wedding.
In that order!

Our apocalyptic heart-to-heart made me sad. Sad for a generation of young people who have inherited, and quietly accepted, this chaotic world.
We all worry about our children. I just fear that we won't have much time to do that.




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Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Shut Up And Drive!

Photograph of the steering wheel of a 1998 Vol...Image via Wikipedia

I’ve been demoted. If you’re a parent of a teenager, I suspect you have, too. I used to be Almighty MOM -- you know, Queen Bee, Ruler of the Roost, revered by my children, The One Who Could Do No Wrong. Now, in the eyes of my teenager, I am nothing more than The One Who Drives Her Places And Writes Checks.

It’s humiliating, this fall from grace.

I drive the carpool once a week. Three teens and a chauffeur stuffed not-so-comfortably into my Honda Accord. I have long legs and on Tuesdays, I have to move the seat so far up to accommodate the gangly boy behind me that my breasts are practically napping on the steering wheel. (Yet one more sacrifice we mothers make!) I was told, flat out, by my daughter not to say anything in the car and to “just drive.” Me? Not say anything for half an hour? That’s like telling the sun not to shine, or Britney Spears not to be a party whore.

After the initial “hellos” when they all pile in, I’m quiet for about two blocks, then it becomes physically painful NOT to say anything, mostly because NOBODY is saying anything. I am simply AMAZED at how rude and unsociable teens can be to each other! So I start talking, about whatever, asking questions to engage everyone in the car in some reasonable dialogue. My daughter sinks lower into her seat. Her body language says, “Mom, you’re embarrassing me!”

But then . . . it starts to work. I hit on a topic that these teens are interested in. The election was a good one. We learned that Brendan has Republican leanings and that Nick is a pretty funny guy. “Obama in ’08, Biden in ’09,” he jokes. The thick air clears, and the generation gap narrows.

I dare to look over at my daughter, who I’m sure hates me by now. She gives up a smile. Reluctantly. But it’s there.

So, Moms . . . why do you think our teens are so embarrassed of us? I don't get it! I don't look or smell funny, and I wear clean clothes.

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Oh, let me explain the video. When my teen read my blog title, she informed me that Rihanna has a song out with the exact, same title, the little copycat. So I thought it would be a fun link. Then I watched the video. I can't BELIEVE our teens are exposed to this crap! Enough with the metaphors about cars and sex! VROOM! VROOM!