FTV Why My Nineties Childhood Rocked
FROM THE VAULT
I'm sure you all know growing up sucks, so that's not what this post is about. This week marks the third week I have been home from college for the summer. I was so young and full of a healthy cynicism back then. I'm still cynical, just to an unhealthy degree now. These past three weeks have mainly consisted of crying, longing for the days I was back at school, and wishing August would come sooner. My parents have considered therapy to help them deal with those feelings.
I have been reminiscing on my younger days since I've been home and I realized that after Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, I probably had the third best childhood in America. I could shorten today's post to two words if I had to: hit clips. (My current research has revealed that this is actually a one-word trade name: HitClips.) But I will go into further detail about all of the things that made my nineties childhood (and probably yours) awesome.
I think one of the first concepts I learned as a child was the drastic difference between "home" and "Grandma's house." At home, I was Cinderella. Between washing the dishes and being asked to do countless chores ("move your feet so I can vacuum" and "come let me cut your hair") I felt like my parents only wanted a child so they would have a servant. But when I went to my grandparents' house...it was a whole different world. I was finally being treated like the princess I always knew I was.
At home, if I were to spill a drop of water my parents would freak out and continue to bring up the incident frequently over the next twenty years.
Examples:
"Wow, I almost just spilled my glass of water! But that's your job, isn't it?"
"Looks like rain tomorrow. Remember when you spilled water all over the new carpet?"
"Goodnight. Don't spill any water in your sleep!"
But at my grandparents' house, I could spill a can of red paint all over the walls and carpet and my sweet grandma would probably say "That's okay sweetie, I know it was an accident, we can repaint the house it's no problem." Honestly, my grandma would probably claim to like it better that way and just embrace the new vermilion vibes. They would probably then feel bad that I felt bad and bake me cookies or buy me something.
As every true nineties kid knows, all of my best movies are on VHS. But of course my parents didn't buy me the Disney princess movies or other classics like The Fox and the Hound, Lion King, or Robin Hood. Luckily, my aunt had all the right movies. My summers were spent watching The Aristocats, Pocahontas, and The Land Before Time to name a few. You just don't know pure joy until you've seen Fern Gully. Am I right? To this day, my VCR is my most-prized possession, like my own private time machine that takes me back to the days of Toy Story and Thumbelina. Now if only I could locate my View-Master. Update - I have Thumbelina on DVD, my roommate has Disney+, and I bought Fern Gully on iTunes to show my class. It was completely relevant. I am teaching a course called Film Criticism and Tim Curry.
A few days ago I decided to jump on my old trampoline. I think this trampoline has since been thrown out. I certainly hope so. It's definitely a safety risk. Like most all-American playthings, it was likely made in China, but I gambled and hoped it was, in the words of Destiny's Child, "ready for this jelly." And although there were several near death experiences during which my life bounced before my eyes, it was. Just like a decade ago, I do some of my best thinking on the trampoline. While I was jumping I realized that this is the third trampoline we've had. Apparently, while my parents didn't feel the need to buy me Disney movies, or the cereal I hated but promised to eat because I wanted the light up spoon that was inside, every time a trampoline broke they got me a new one. And I think that makes them pretty awesome. I suppose it wouldn't hurt (me) to add that my brother once required 5 stitches in his face after a tragic trampoline accident. His head accidentally ran into the broom I was swinging.
P.S.-There was one part of my childhood that has no silver lining. My mother gave away my Easy Bake Oven. Just gave it away. Disgusting.
It's so funny that this would be the next post I would come across to republish because this weekend I was at the beach with friends and the 5 hour car ride meant A LOT of time talking about our childhoods. As my friends compared Polly Pocket collections and American Girl Doll experiences, I began to wonder if perhaps the theme of my youth was genteel poverty? We weren't poor but my parents were really not about that buy-Rachel-all-the-trendy-toys-even-though-within-3-business-days-we-could-find-ourselves-in-The-Great-Depression-and-it-will-be-so-bad-they-will-have-to-rename-the-first-Great-Depression-to-the-Actually-Not-That-Bad-Depression life.
And who could blame them? I had plenty. I was a Beanie Baby fiend, had an enviable collection of shoes even as a toddler, and I often went for the dolls that came with matching accessories for both doll and owner so I was covered in the hair clips department. So enjoy this trip down memory lane as I brag about the coolest thing about me in the 90s...my HitClips collection.
Also - this week I am doing something different and highlighting my current musings in pink. I had a lot of thoughts to add.
I'm sure you all know growing up sucks, so that's not what this post is about. This week marks the third week I have been home from college for the summer. I was so young and full of a healthy cynicism back then. I'm still cynical, just to an unhealthy degree now. These past three weeks have mainly consisted of crying, longing for the days I was back at school, and wishing August would come sooner. My parents have considered therapy to help them deal with those feelings.
I have been reminiscing on my younger days since I've been home and I realized that after Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, I probably had the third best childhood in America. I could shorten today's post to two words if I had to: hit clips. (My current research has revealed that this is actually a one-word trade name: HitClips.) But I will go into further detail about all of the things that made my nineties childhood (and probably yours) awesome.
I think one of the first concepts I learned as a child was the drastic difference between "home" and "Grandma's house." At home, I was Cinderella. Between washing the dishes and being asked to do countless chores ("move your feet so I can vacuum" and "come let me cut your hair") I felt like my parents only wanted a child so they would have a servant. But when I went to my grandparents' house...it was a whole different world. I was finally being treated like the princess I always knew I was.
At home, if I were to spill a drop of water my parents would freak out and continue to bring up the incident frequently over the next twenty years.
Examples:
"Wow, I almost just spilled my glass of water! But that's your job, isn't it?"
"Looks like rain tomorrow. Remember when you spilled water all over the new carpet?"
"Goodnight. Don't spill any water in your sleep!"
But at my grandparents' house, I could spill a can of red paint all over the walls and carpet and my sweet grandma would probably say "That's okay sweetie, I know it was an accident, we can repaint the house it's no problem." Honestly, my grandma would probably claim to like it better that way and just embrace the new vermilion vibes. They would probably then feel bad that I felt bad and bake me cookies or buy me something.
Needless to say I spent as much time as possible at my grandparents' house growing up. I was their first grandchild, which probably explains why they never told me "no" or "I don't want to watch The Little Mermaid again" or "you don't need a fifth ice cream cone." I distinctly remember one time when they ran out of ice cream cones but not ice cream so we just kept refilling mine every time I got down to the cone and I had like 8 servings of chocolate chip cookie dough trying to savor that one sugar cone that was no longer structurally sound after all the tours it served.
HitClips cannot be overlooked in discussing why my childhood was awesome. HitClips were to my preteen years what insulin is to a diabetic. No idea what I was trying to say with this analogy but I stand by it. When I walked into a store listening to 90 seconds of my one of my favorite songs, I felt like the height of sophistication. With my HitClip player clipped onto a belt loop, I thought I could easily pass for eleven. I still have my HitClips in my bedroom, the best of NSYNC, the Backstreet Boys, and Aaron Carter just waiting for my little cousins (non-nineties kids) to appreciate them. The key thing about my HitClips collection is that it was the only way I could access pop music. My household was Christian contemporary only and I was the kid lip-syncing at the middle school dances because beyond "yeah!" I had no idea what Usher was saying.
HitClips cannot be overlooked in discussing why my childhood was awesome. HitClips were to my preteen years what insulin is to a diabetic. No idea what I was trying to say with this analogy but I stand by it. When I walked into a store listening to 90 seconds of my one of my favorite songs, I felt like the height of sophistication. With my HitClip player clipped onto a belt loop, I thought I could easily pass for eleven. I still have my HitClips in my bedroom, the best of NSYNC, the Backstreet Boys, and Aaron Carter just waiting for my little cousins (non-nineties kids) to appreciate them. The key thing about my HitClips collection is that it was the only way I could access pop music. My household was Christian contemporary only and I was the kid lip-syncing at the middle school dances because beyond "yeah!" I had no idea what Usher was saying.
As every true nineties kid knows, all of my best movies are on VHS. But of course my parents didn't buy me the Disney princess movies or other classics like The Fox and the Hound, Lion King, or Robin Hood. Luckily, my aunt had all the right movies. My summers were spent watching The Aristocats, Pocahontas, and The Land Before Time to name a few. You just don't know pure joy until you've seen Fern Gully. Am I right? To this day, my VCR is my most-prized possession, like my own private time machine that takes me back to the days of Toy Story and Thumbelina. Now if only I could locate my View-Master. Update - I have Thumbelina on DVD, my roommate has Disney+, and I bought Fern Gully on iTunes to show my class. It was completely relevant. I am teaching a course called Film Criticism and Tim Curry.
A few days ago I decided to jump on my old trampoline. I think this trampoline has since been thrown out. I certainly hope so. It's definitely a safety risk. Like most all-American playthings, it was likely made in China, but I gambled and hoped it was, in the words of Destiny's Child, "ready for this jelly." And although there were several near death experiences during which my life bounced before my eyes, it was. Just like a decade ago, I do some of my best thinking on the trampoline. While I was jumping I realized that this is the third trampoline we've had. Apparently, while my parents didn't feel the need to buy me Disney movies, or the cereal I hated but promised to eat because I wanted the light up spoon that was inside, every time a trampoline broke they got me a new one. And I think that makes them pretty awesome. I suppose it wouldn't hurt (me) to add that my brother once required 5 stitches in his face after a tragic trampoline accident. His head accidentally ran into the broom I was swinging.
P.S.-There was one part of my childhood that has no silver lining. My mother gave away my Easy Bake Oven. Just gave it away. Disgusting.
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