Ran across this spoof blog post set in the 70’s , which opens like this:
“This morning I got up and Jennifer and Kimberly were eating Pop Rocks in front of the TV set watching Captain Kangaroo while Matt was already out in the back yard with a glass of Tang. I sat down and had a cigarette.”
[See Victoria Fedden, author and award winning blogger.]
When I shared this with my mom (who likewise dabbled in parenting occasionally during the 70’s), she offered this more customized take:
“Jennifer and Robert went out to scream down the curving hillside of Fairview Avenue on their Big Wheels. When they got tired they came inside and finished the bags of Halloween candy they’d gone out alone and collected the night before. When they got cranky I fed them lunch, Campbell’s chicken noodle soup with Twinkies for dessert. Jennifer’s bottom was still red where her dad had whooped up on her for approaching the unfenced swimming pool. The scar on the bridge of Robert’s nose has healed pretty well from the plastic that sliced him when I put him in his toddler baby seat, which was *supposed* to be an improvement on the “baby pan” that used to crash into the floor at stop signs despite my automatic “safety arm slam”. Fortunately he hadn’t been hurt much when the baby bicycle seat that hooked over the handlebars of my junk-shop bike fell off while riding around Homestead. Also fortunately, he never opened the unlockable back doors of the ancient Mercedes we drove from Florida to California. He was always an angel at Fairyland Nursery School six days a week but was sometimes irritable at home on Sundays, even though he could go to the fridge any time to pop a Little Oly.”
When I asked her what “pop a Little Oly” meant, she simply explained that “Olympia beer used to produce small-size portions in pop-off cans.”
I’ll just let that sink in:
AND SHE NEVER TOLD ME THIS GENIUS PARENTING TIP TIL NOW!? Next time my kids are cranky… Oh man apparently I need to go out and find us some tiny beers STAT. Not to mention Twinkies.
Omg the 70’s, man.
One thing I can say in defense of my mom’s choices though, when she named me “Jennifer” in 1970… there was NO WAY she could have known that EVERY other mother for the next decade would ALSO name their daughter Jennifer.
It’s not a bad name anyway. Let’s just say “Jennifer” is one of the more palatable things to have come out of the 70’s.
All 50 million of us.