I remember with great fondness jumping out of bed and racing downstairs for a bowl of Golden Grahams and Saturday morning cartoons; the wonderful days of Captain Caveman and Fraggle Rock. Hours would slip by unnoticed while I made every attempt in the world get the right balance of milk to cereal ratio and would eventually give up once I ran out of cereal. Or milk.
Fast forward a whole lot of years and you will find me scurrying around the house in a foggy haze of tattered bathrobe and one lost slipper while chasing a toddler and yelling across the house to the preschooler all while waiting (impatiently) for my ancient coffee maker to hurry the hell up.
The universe may as well have left me a note that read: Welcome to Saturday morning as a parent, asshole. Which got me thinking about these five ways in which Saturday mornings after kids will never be the same again…
1. You can’t eat an entire box plus half a gallon of milk all by yourself. At least, not without being judged. Also, in the event that you try to accomplish such a heavenly feat of Saturday morning bliss, your children will nag the shit out of you to try some too. Goodbye, Count Chocula.
2. There is no Hanna-Barbera on regular TV anymore. Gone are the days of crazy cartoons where characters were not overly sexed up or cliquey and snarky and rude. Or maybe they were and I recall them through glossy romanticized memories. But seriously, Wilma Flintstone did not have double D’s and giant alien eyes.
3. Camping out on the couch for several hours in a row would NEVER happen in my house now. No matter how much I wish for it, it will never be. Why? Because I have kids who never stop moving, are always asking me for stuff, and a house that constantly requires cleaning.
4. By the time the last awesome cartoon ended I would fly out of the house, grab my Huffy and ride around until I found other kids to play with. Sometimes we would form a bike gang of a dozen sugared up tikes. Can you imagine a Huffy bike gang of middle-aged moms?
5. Last but not least, good old Doctor Denton’s Footed Pajamas. Sigh…I had every color. They were soft and warm on the outside and kind of scratchy but still cozy on the inside. I basically lived in those damn things until I nearly 12 and by then they were decidedly NOT cool anymore. So then I wore Punky Brewster tee shirts with my Rainbow Bright pajama pants. But now that I have grown up, I wear – you guessed it – yoga pants and old university tees.
This is the part where I am supposed to leave you with an uplifting paragraph about how I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, kids (swoon). Guess again. If I could wave my imaginary wizard wand I would sleep in until noon and get to eat ALL THE CEREAL BY MYSELF. I would get hot coffee. I would Netflix Captain Caveman or Saved By The Bell. My kids would be super duper well behaved. And finally, I would get to wear footed pajamas with my dignity intact.
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