Consumed

mom? OK, yeah. I'm not sure but I think I may be allergic to Christmas., originally uploaded by toyfoto.

American Public Media's Marketplace recently aired a series called Consumed, presumably to ask the question: Is our consumer society sustainable?

It mainly focused on Americans' insatiable appetite for things. Pretty, pretty, things. Pretty cheap things. Lots and lots of cheap things. That we can throw away. Things that come packaged in more things. Things that can't be repaired. Things that are cheaper to replace.

And now that these pretty, cheap things - especially for children - come with a toxic shadow surrounding them, I am trying to reform my ways.

But boy is it tough.

It's like a drug, these bargains that aren't really bargains. The Christmas-Tree-Shop thinking (Don't You Just LOVE a Bargain ... for some piece of detritus you don't really need) combined with a spend-or-the-terrorists-will-have-won mantra that keeps the economy afloat, is drowning me.

My mother reminds me that WE didn't have all these plastic toys when she was raising us. There just wasn't ALL. THIS. STUFF. And that we were happy playing with creations of our own making. We didn't watch a lot of TV not because she eschewed it but because there just wasn't a lot of children's television. Seasame Street, The Electric Company, Captain Kangaroo ... Saturday morning cartoons was pretty much all the programming there was; and movies for children consisted of the occasional Disney flick in theaters, and Willy Wonka and The Wizard of OZ, played once a year on the boobtube around Christmas time or Halloween.

Yet, I could list all the possible things I could buy, collect, watch, rinse, repete, and I still would probably miss about 75 percent of the things available to purchase as a way to deplete the college fund for no good reason.

And you know what? No matter how I rail against it, I am guilty of perpetuating it. I pay so little attention that the reality of buying some $1 piece of dreck seems a bargain if it will just stave off whatever potential meltdown is brewing in the background.

"You just lost the battle," my husband scoffs at me as Ittybit leaves Target with a tiny basket of Made in China fruit.

I try to protest, turn the tables and shine the blinding light of failure elsewhere. I tell him I am too tired to have THAT fight. I don't want to drag her from the store, kicking and screaming over something that is a natural desire: To have something new.

We are all guilty of those types of transgressions. He can't go past a hardware store and I can't get out of a discount store without buying something I don't need just because it was inexpensive-artfully placed-or-otherwise alluring with its shiny "Hey-YOU-Don't-Have-That" glow.

He looks at me with well placed skepticism.

"The only way to win this was is to leave her home," I say in exaspiration.

"Or you could say 'NO,'" he responds.

"Leave me HOME?" she asks me sadly? "Your not going to take me with you to Target anymore?"

"Yes, honey, I think we are going to have to for a while," I reply.

"But why?"

"Because Mommy can't say 'NO' to you. And I really need to say 'NO'."