Everyone's a critic, right?

This may come as a shock to many of you, but I can be a bit critical. On occasion I have criticized my children. And sometimes their friends. And my friends. And even my church leaders. And occasionally Rob, although I'm careful with him because he can be vicious when attacked.

Like most Americans, I don't think this flaw (or my other one) are my fault. I could blame my critical nature on my fairly critical parents, but instead I think I'll blame it on reality television. "American Idol," in particular, has increased my capacity for criticizing. For ten solid years now, I've spent my winters judging others.

Who told this person he could sing?

Those screaming high notes make me want to scream, and not in a good way.

Bad song choice; a little pitchy; didn't work for me, dawg

How did she make it this far?

I really miss Simon Cowell. He's the only one who said what all of us critics are thinking.

You should know that my critical reviews and comments are not relegated to my living room or Hollywood productions. Closer to home, for example, the Media Theatre is hosting its third season of Delco Idol Jr. Ian's best friend Noah is competing* for the second year in a row and the kids and I enjoy attending the live performances. As you can imagine, however, this can be a hazardous outing for someone as critical as me. I have been known to visibly cringe when a singer causes me pain, comment when someone's flat or sharp, and grumble about every tacky little cheesy Broadway wanna-be who dresses in character and dedicates their mediocre performance to their dying grandmother whose only wish is that sonny-boy fulfill his dream of stardom. The biggest problem with my reactions is never knowing whom I'm sitting near. Best friend? Mom? Grandad? Neighbor? I have to watch my volume and facial expressions. It's a minefield out there for critical folks like me.

My critical nature extends to how I publicly (not in a snide whisper) show appreciation or displeasure at live performances. My friend Emily, Noah's mom and blogger at Mothers of Brothers, recently wrote a post titled "The Clapper."  Emily and I are polar opposites in this regard. She bravely goes out on a limb to applaud even when no one else is, and, in keeping with my critical nature, I am completely stingy with my applause. If I think you're awesome, I'll go embarrassingly overboard in my praise for your performance. Hooting and whooping are not out of the question. If, however, you do nothing for me, I may offer a brief clap, sometimes just one-handed, slapping my thigh to make a bit of noise. I have also been known to withhold my applause completely.

[And while we're on the topic of applause and performance recognition, I think we've become way too generous in our standing ovations. The last few professional performances I have attended have all garnered standing o's. Seriously, if we're going to stand up for everything, it rather dilutes the meaning behind it, doesn't it?]

Now you may be wondering how my critical nature works when it comes to my children and their performances (talent shows, musical events, sports). Rest assured, I do not take it easy on them. I'll always applaud the effort, but I'm also unfailingly honest when it comes to my constructive criticism. After all, I only offer my critique in an effort to help them improve and ultimately succeed. This may explain why Abby's a hyper-neurotic perfectionist and why Ian figures it's best to avoid performing at all. Hmmm. I may be on to something here. Well, shoot. Who knew that a blog post would reveal this psychological insight into my children and their issues personalities?

I better end this post right here. I have an important call to make. Can anyone recommend a good family therapist?

*Noah's Delco Idol run came to an end last evening. He was robbed. Creepy little over-performing Broadway star wanna-bees moved on, but guitar-playing rockers don't make it far in this strange little world of the theater...