My five year old son had his tonsils and adenoids removed two weeks ago today.
It’s been a long two weeks of morphine and snot and naps and meltdowns and cabin fever and sleepless nights and cuddles.
To help my son heal from his surgery, he’s been prescribed a heavy dose of TV time. I swear the TV hasn’t been off in over fourteen days. That kid will watch anything and everything. Baby shows, pony shows, cooking shows, he doesn’t discriminate. Like most kids, he loves watching the channels that solely air kids programming. I’ve gotten remarkably good at tuning out the annoyingly repetitive and shrill sounds of the cartoons that he gravitates towards. But yesterday, something on one of his “kids only” channels totally grabbed my attention.
My kids were huddled in front of the TV, zoned out like zombies. I was sitting at the kitchen table, huddled in front of my computer, also zoned out like a zombie. I don’t even remember what I was looking at, but it probably had to do with cats.
A few moments later, a commercial for feminine hygiene products and the sound of my eight year old son’s super high voice jolted me from my computer coma.
“Mom, Mom, MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! There’s a commercial for your diapers on TV!”
“Cool”, I replied, totally confused. Why was there a maxi pad commercial airing at four o’clock in the afternoon on a TV channel that catered strictly to children?
I pondered this and then noticed that the following commercial was for laundry detergent.
Why not commercials for toys or video games or super delicious sugary cereals?
I pondered some more.
And then everything became clear.
The advertising executives for this particular TV station probably got together for an epic brain storming session over coffee and danishes. They knew they needed to increase viewership, but how?
I bet a very smart man in a very smart suit came up with the very smart idea to expand their advertising to include all the bleeders out there. You know, the moms, sisters, babysitters and aunts of small children who have no choice but to watch crappy kids cartoons when in the presence of their youngins.
I would personally like to thank Mr. Smart Suit for interrupting my precious computer zombie time to remind me of my menstrual needs. I’ve only been a “woman” since I was twelve, so I pretty much have no idea how this whole period thing works.
I also think that it’s awesome and not sexist or a massive generalization at all that Mr. Smart Suit thinks that all the bleeders out there LOVE doing laundry. Oh boy, do we LOVE it! Us bleeders get positively jazzed about new laundry detergent.
It’s all we can think about!
It’s all we can talk about!
It’s our raison d’etre!
How brilliant of Mr. Smart Suit to put both our love of bleeding and washing together in the same sixty second frame.
You know what would be amazing? If I sent my eight year old son to one of those advertising executive meetings and Mr. Smart Suit could answer his questions about why his mother needs special diapers. Mr. Smart Suit just gets me and my needs as a woman and could probably explain menstruation to my son in a way that won’t leave him confused or horrified.
Mr. Smart Suit is so in tune with his feminine side that there is no doubt in my mind that he fully understands everything there is to know about being a woman.
He so gets women, I bet he even menstruates…or dare I say MANstruate?
I wonder what other delightful commercial combinations Mr. Smart Suit and his amazing female intuition will come up with next?
Tampons and toilet cleaner?
Douches and dish soap?
Weight loss and washing machines?
I can’t wait!
As a woman and a bleeder, I feel it’s my duty to thank you again, Mr. Smart Suit.
Thank you for reminding me of my womanly duties.
Thank you for inundating me with your spot on ideals of womanhood.
Most importantly, thank you for reminding me how much I love to bleed and clean.