All the cool kids at work are giving their two cents about this Time Magazine article about hipster parents. Given the title I chose for my blog (never mind the intent behind the choice, it is what it is), and given that Time slanders the fine people who keep me in yarn and pinot noir, I should probably say what I think.
And what I think is this: people really like to label things. They also really like to ridicule other people's labels for things. Then they get defensive when they're labeled and defensive when their labels for things are called into question. Somehow it was okay for our grandparents to make our parents sit through Lawrence Welk, and it was okay for our parents to dress us in little plaid leisure suits and wretched Gunne Sax church dresses, but it's not okay for me to put my kids in Chuck Taylors and be pleased that they like the White Stripes. That's cause for derision, which makes me cranky, which makes me cranky for caring, which makes me hope that the Time article draws a lot of traffic to Babble and makes us all fabulously famous and wealthy so I can buy more pinot and chill out.
I've got a theory as to why the "hipster parent" is such a problem for both the people so labeled and the people doing the labeling. It's a theory with roots in high school dynamics. But explaining it would cause more problems than it would solve, so you'll just have to ponder your own youth and your own sense of place and see where that gets you.
I will be here, raising kids in the shadow of the city, using technology as a means of documenting their lives, being unafraid to say "fuck".