Sooo My Mom Gave Away My Barbies And I Had A Breakdown

I’m just going to go ahead and say it. This has been a f&%#ed up week, and now, on top of all  the crap I’ve been dealing with, I find out that my mother has given away my Barbies. Without my consent. Yes, a piece of my childhood wrapped up in the six characters in the photo above is now gone.

On Wednesday night, my cell phone passed away. After taking too much abuse from me, it decided to give up the good fight and stop hanging on for dear life through a cracked screen I’ve nearly cut my finger on once or twice in the past few months. Hence, without a cell phone I’ve been somewhat cut off from the outside world, save for social media, and since my replacement phone is supposed to arrive sometime this afternoon, I didn’t bother sending out customary “my phone’s not working” notices to people who most likely wouldn’t be contacting me anyway. And being the trifling daughter that I am, I didn’t tell my mother I was out of reach, hence the frantic message I received on Facebook this morning:

Hey Brande, please let me know you’re ok. You didn’t respond to my texts or call. Unlike you.

After telling my mom my phone was broke and asking what she texted me about, she replied:

Oh I was asking if you minded me giving some of your Barbies away? Anita here at work gives them to children’s shelters.

After already loosing a cell phone this week, I was not prepared to part with anything else which is why I told her when I come home next month I can select some Barbies for the kids at the shelter — meaning I would pick out the blonde-haired, blue-eyed ones I don’t want and keep my colored collection for myself and any potential offspring– and that’s when she hit me with:

Oops I gave her some today thinking you really would not mind.

I’m sorry, WTF just happened here?

I’m going to risk sounding like a brat here and not caring about the underprivileged children who I envision will now be mangling these Barbie dolls that have remained pretty damn fly, if I may say so myself, inside of a large duffle bag in the closet of my mom’s home. They’ve survived 15-20 years in attics, basements, and garages without being thought of twice, how dare she give them away?? Does she not recognize the classically impeccable ’90s freshness these dolls embody at the stylish hands of you know who? I mean, ‘cmon. On top of that, I had to question how my mom was worried something might have happened to me, but in the interim decided to give away dolls I’ve cherished for most of my childhood. Again, WTF just happened here?

As I had my meltdown in the office for all to see, a coworker shared her own tale of attachment to childhood things, reminding me of just how childlike we can become when our parents even mention the idea of parting ways with something that was such a huge part of our upbringing. Suddenly, we become the jealous child who only wants the crusty dusty ball we haven’t played with in months because our cousin from out of town dug it up and is playing with it.

I know good and well I haven’t thought about those damn Barbie dolls since I packed them all away years ago, or have the unfortunate experience of stepping into a Toys R ‘Us and seeing new ones on the shelves, and yet and still when I was faced with the reality that they wouldn’t be there should they ever cross my mind again in the future, I went plum crazy.

After reevaluating my reaction and all the other stuff I have to deal with right now I decided the kids could have my dolls — after my mom sent that photo letting me know she didn’t give away my Michael Jackson or Christie doll). But I still issued this stern warning in case she got charity happy again and I wasn’t around to stop it:

“Don’t give Anita any other dolls that I haven’t picked out.”

Have you ever flipped out over your parents giving away something from your childhood?