I am concerned about the data that must exist about “busy moms” and their interests – particularly as it relates to the design and marketing of wall calendars and agendas. You should be concerned too… Someone is spending time and money researching this demographic in order to offer products that will generate income. Sadly, the resulting products are infantile and cartoonish, which obviously means that is what the market supports.
The next time you are browsing the calendar section at Barnes and Noble, take note. Squint your eyes and look for the yellow cartoony area – now focus.
I told you.
In the bid to win her business, marketing professionals saturate the packaging with information about the calendar’s hundreds of happy little stickers (soccer practice, doctor appointments, celebrations) that the suicidal mom can use in her new calendar. They might be meant as a subliminal message…
“There, there little lady. No need to engage your brain. Just keep up the good car-pooling work and have supper on the table by 5:30. These pretty stickers will make it all seem fun! You’ll see. Now run along.”
I love a pretty calendar or agenda, I admit it… something to take the tedium out of the scheduling of my weekly meetings with my parole officer… but my ability to process fairly complex thoughts (Where am I? Where are my kids? What’s for dinner? Does little Billy play baseball? If so, when and where?) also means I haven’t found the right one yet. I’ve shopped around, too – the selection at Amazon really might be a practical joke.
I guess I will hold on to my $13.95, unless one of these beauties suddenly excites my hypothalamus:
A Meeting of The Eyes
8 DecImage via Wikipedia
Sigh. My new physical therapist is kind of shy.
No eye contact.
Eye contact is important when you communicate with other humans… window to the soul and all that.
He also struggles to make small talk, which is at the opposite end of the spectrum from my last boyfriend… or physical therapist… you know what I meant. He would no more presume to touch my hip flexor than to break into a tap dance number.
“So, what do you do besides run?” he asked, as he gazed at the wall. I didn’t know if he meant in my free time or in addition to side-to-side squats with a band around my ankles.
I really didn’t.
“Do you mean… like… do I have a job?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, I’m a stay-at-home mom and I ummm…
No. I don’t have a job.”
“Oh. That’s good. That’s good.”
It was ridiculous. I smiled over at him and laughed, but I think I embarrassed him.
Jesus. He probably thought I was laughing at him, but I swear I wasn’t. I was laughing at his pleated pants, and that is not the same thing. I think he may have loosened up a bit by the end of the hour, but he’s very formal so I can’t be sure.
One hour together… twice a week… for months.
But don’t worry, I’ll corrupt him by next Thursday… he might even say a bad word, like “hell” or “damn”, but at the very least he will look me in the eyes.
Poor guy.
Share this:
Tags: blog, books, commentary, entertainment, family, friends, fun, funny, home, humor, life, musings, parenting, parenting musings, Patient, Physical therapy, random, runner, sarcasm