Barbie: Does She Really Have It All?

Both of my daughters are enamored with everything that is Barbie related. This can be a blessing or a curse, depending on one’s viewpoint. For example, Barbie does keep them both entertained for hours at a time. That means that I can do exciting things, like laundry, or even shower alone and still have time left over to do other important activities. (Like Scramble With Friends, my newest time suck. Or better yet, study.)

However, the aftermath of a marathon Barbie session is brutal. Between both girls we have approximately two dozen Barbies. Each of those Barbies has at least two dozen outfits with matching shoes. (Many of those outfits make Barbie look like a cheap hooker on Hollywood Boulevard, but that’s beside the point.) Needless to say that when it’s time to clean the Barbie mess up, I am the one who is scrambling around on the floor on my hands and knees packing everything away. As I was cleaning the 5 y.o.’s room yesterday, I found myself getting slightly jealous. Of Barbie.  

I live in a plain three bedroom, 1 ½ bathroom ranch style home. Barbie has a three level house complete with an elevator and a hot tub. She has a swimming pool. Plus a beach house. Her toilet sings to her when it flushes.

I have a severely anemic closet. The cute clothes I used to wear are long gone and I now live in yoga pants or if I really feel like dressing up, corduroys. Barbie has an infinite supply of clothing. And shoes. I have one pair of high-heeled black shoes. I can’t remember the last time I wore them. Barbie has heels in every color imaginable. And she wears them. All the time.

I am constantly doing things around the house and picking up after everyone. Barbie never has to clean or do laundry. She’s too busy being a doctor, doing her hair, or cooking a fabulous gourmet meal in her fancy kitchen. Barbie has never changed a shitty diaper. Barbie has never had to clean up puke. Barbie does not have to clean cat litter every day.

I spend a lot of time driving. Taking kids to and from school, play dates, running errands, etc. I like my little SUV, but Barbie has a sweet pink convertible that she can ride around in all day (and all night). And she never has to pay $4.00 per gallon for gas.

I could go on, but I won’t because I think I’ve made my point.

But then I thought of something that put everything into perspective.

Barbie’s wine glass.

                                                                      My wine glass.

Poor Barbie. I wonder who’s jealous now.