"Get off the phone!" I've been hearing this my entire life, in one form or another. As a kid, in the prehistoric days before call waiting and answering machines and other superior forms of communication, my parents limited me to ten minutes per call. Ten minutes. It took me ten minutes just to warm up. Rebel that I wasn't, I generally ignored the order until one of them picked up the phone from their bedroom and said, "Carol." My cue to get off the phone. Oh, how I longed for the day when I'd have my own place, my own goddam phone, my own everything. Fast forward to, "Get the hell off the goddam phone!" "Who's that?" the producer or agent who held my fledgling TV career in his/her hands would ask. "My two-year-old son," I'd say, laughing nervously. It was adorable. Soon I had two little boys running wild through the house. I was lucky to get ten minutes on the phone. Ten minutes to myself. Oh, how I longed for "me" time. Fast forward to, "Get the bark, bark, bark off the bark, bark, bark." A certain dog doesn't like when I'm on the phone. A certain dog will do anything to get me off the phone. Grab magazines, remote controls, socks, towels, shoes. Whine. Jump. Tackle me. There's no end to what this dog will do to get me off the phone. He's shameless. I never get to sit down when I'm on the phone. I'm too busy slipping him treats or hiding from him outside. But he always finds me and starts crying like an abandoned pup. My cue to get off the phone. "Who's that?" the human on the other end will ask. "Dusty Schneider, my third child." Some things never change.
I can't past the 10 minute rule. 10 minutes? What kind of prison did you grow up in? Probably because you had brothers, rather than sisters, so your parents were unenlightened. No "second line" ? You missed a vital part of youth procrastinating on homework in favor of chatting with your bff who you just spent the day with.
ReplyDeleteI have suffered, Elizabeth. Suffered! I wanted a pink princess phone. I got bupkis. Deprived child, growing up in Westwood. Oh, the indignity. Of course, when no one was home, I spent hours on the phone. Hours and hours!!! Hahahaha. So don't cry for me, unless you feel the need to, then, by all means, go ahead.
ReplyDeleteBrothers? Yes we were subjected to the "get-the-heck-off-the-phone-in-10-minutes-or-the-world-collapses" rule too. Thankfully at 16 my therapist told our folks I needed my own phone in my bedroom! Yay therapy!
ReplyDeleteAnd yet, no pink princess phone for the little sis. Where is the justice in that?!
ReplyDeleteMy sister got her pink princess phone for Christmas two months after my youngest brother was born. And she got her own room with her own bathroom. So the three boys got a triple decker bunk bed and shared the other bathroom with mom and dad... but I'm not bitter, not a bit, because a ten minute conversation is way too long.
ReplyDeleteSteve-o, I had my own room and bathroom, so I guess that made up for the missing princess phone and phone restrictions. And you do sound just a tad bitter, by the way.
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