Giving In to the Silly Bandz

Silly Bandz. Seriously….they’re killing me.

I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago when she mentioned these damn things. I was all, “what? Silly What? You’re stupid…you just live in a high-class hoitie toitie area where stupid trendy crap like that rules all.”

Two weeks later my kids come home from school, each wearing little rubber band looking things around their wrists.

My immediate reaction was, “Honey!!!! Did you have the kids listening to Madonna again!!”

But then they took them off and I saw they weren’t the beloved jelly bracelets of my childhood, instead they were in the shapes of cars, robots, and dinosaurs.

I’ll admit it, I fought the kids wearing those them initially. I was all, “I don’t understand why you kids wear those things!! They don’t do anything but just look silly on your arm!!”

Then the boy chimed in, “daddy…they are called ‘silly bandz.’”

Then, like the reflection of one’s life a mere seconds before it’s taken from them, I remembered the Madonna jellies, the Converse Chucks, Jams, Ocean Pacific shirts, Garfield lunch boxes, Inspector Gadget yogurts, and listening to the Beastie Boys full notch through a boom box resting cool-like on my shoulder as I walked down the street.

I can drop a cool $5 on worthless pieces of crap “Bandz” that help create memories for my kids as they blunder their way through childhood. And I look forward to the day when I happen to overhear them at the age of 30 talking with friends having the same conversations we’re having now….

“Yeah…and what about the socks with the different colors stripes at the top, and the Izod shirts, Bon Jovi, and when Guns-N-Roses re-did Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

Just simple mile markers along the journey to adulthood….



First Day Jitters

Yesterday I got the call I’ve waited four months to get. The one that contains the phrase “I have your job offer letter and we’d like you to start work tomorrow.”

I was in the middle of a huge park on a dirt path next to a waterfall when I got the word. I did a cartwheel, tripped on a root, and almost knocked my first-born into the raging river waters. It’s been a long journey—one that I’ve been so very eager to see end.

Then it hit me. She said “you start tomorrow.”

My mind sucked through the back of my head back to a time when I was just a kid getting ready for my first day of fifth grade. Still a bit sunburned from a long summer of bike riding, mowing grass, getting my ass beat by my brother, and trying to peek in on the girl living next door.

I flew home and kicked the door open in a panic. First things first – what the hell am I going to wear on my first day? I haven’t worn business clothes in months.

I remember as a kid going through my drawers and finding the coolest pair of Jams I could find. Digging through my wadded-up t-shirts I found the most bad-ass Ocean Pacific shirt and laid them on top of my red high-top Converse.

Twenty-three years later I’m laying out my suit, ironing my shirt, dusting off my dress shoes, and making sure I don’t forget to wear my lucky underwear.

Eating that night was always hard because I wouldn’t be able to shut my mind off. Will anyone remember me? Who’s class will I be in? Oh shit I hope I don’t get Ms. Jenkins, her breath smells like my dog’s ass. Then before long, I’d end up face first in the toilet vomiting up my first-day-of-school jitters.

I’m sure at some point tonight I’ll be “talking to Ralph on the big white phone.”

Then comes the sleeping. Setting the alarm clock. Then checking it once, twice, three times.

And not being able to sleep because you fear oversleeping. So you cuddle the alarm clock to make sure you don’t miss a single beep when it finally decides to go off. And it seems you’re waking up every 15 minutes to look at it.

Then the day arrives. You’re dressed and ready to go in record time. Back in the day I would have combed my hair 30 times and checked out my “look” from all angles. I’d make sure I knew exactly how to carry my book-bag so my cool factor would be at the optimum level. Double checked make sure my mom gave me my new Transformers lunch box instead of the Garfield one I carried last year when I was a baby.

Now, I just worry about whether my zipper’s open, that I have my wallet, and that I don’t say “fuck” on the first day.

Tomorrow I start a new job. Tomorrow I get a fresh start. This journey of nearly four months of unemployment has taught me so very much about myself, my friends, family, and the hell many people in this country are dealing with on a daily basis.

I’m very fortunate in so many ways.