Sundays are a bit of Television wasteland. You want what was called “chewing gum for the eyes” and thank you Frank Lloyd Wright for the appropriate quote: No content beyond basic laugh, giggle and the occasional “omg!” When you spark up the box and want to veg out for a few hours you are not looking for intellectual challenges, or shows that make you want to commit mayhem.
Depending on your point of view, our media is either the precursor of where our society is heading, or, it is a fearsomely accurate mirror that shows us as we truly are. Being enlightened cynics, we vote for the reflection of the current state of society. Like all mirrors, including the fun house variety, what shows up, isn’t always what we want to see.
Shows like Party Mamas on Slice give us a frightening insight into what is considered acceptable parenting. Two synopsis should suffice. A girl wants a Sweet 16 and by the time the show is over, there’s a live elephant, a thousand guests and several dozen costumed dancers. Mom spends, by my estimate only, upwards of $50,000 for a Sweet 16. In another episode, one kid (he’s 13) wants skydivers, race car drivers and Ultimate Fighters for his Bar Mitzvah. Dad, winning the Type-A Award, makes sure that almost all of it happens. Price? Again a guesstimate, around $50 Large.
Now, good for the parents that they can afford the tab: No issue there.
But the offspring? Not only do they have no idea of what things cost, but they don’t care. They want it. They want it now. If it isn’t what they want, they sulk, cry and whine. Meanwhile the parent units hijack what would be considered modest, but minor events in a youths’ life and add their own self-absorbed grandstanding and design sense of the absurd in thick, tacky layers over the whole proceedings.
Which, in many ways, parallels the anecdotal stories of the so-called Helicopter Parents endlessly hovering over their issue as they negotiate the first tentative steps of adulthood. There are plenty of stories about fretful parents attending Junior’s first job interview to ensure the company does the right thing. Further stories of Mom/Dad hassling the college Dean because the vile Professor is making precious Jared/Melinda do homework and actually research their papers. I mean, how dare they actually give our child a B. That will hurt their GPA and their children will never get into (Name of Famous School Here) in the MBA program.
A colleague at work has volunteered to coach a house league soccer team for 11 year olds. It’s a recreational league, non-touring, non-competitive league. It’s for fun for the kids. Last night was the first practice. There is no assistant coach, no manager, no parents offering to help drive, or even just give a hand from time to time. The league has a problem with a shortage of coaches, so my colleague is coaching two teams.
But there are parents who are willing to criticize the drills, the practice, the organization, the uniforms, the time dedicated to their particular child, the condition of the field and the distance between the goals. There are parents quite willing to loudly complain about the weather and for that matter the shoelaces of the other players.
My colleague, fortunately, has good hearing. Every time someone opens their mouth to complain, he asks if they would like to help out with the organizing, coaching and logistics in a polite stage-whisper that could probably be heard in another area code.
Oddly enough, by the end of practice, most of the Helicopter Parents had shut their traps. The children? They had fun, learned a few things about soccer and got to run around outside for an hour or so. My colleague is still the sole coach, manager and logistician. None of the Helicopter Parents have stepped up to help.
None of which is particularly surprising.
RoadDave 