Archive for the ‘Kids’ Category
There are so many. Currently my child is watching a movie about cartoon flies who are embroiled in the feud between the Russians and the Americans their race to the moon.
How. Dumb.
First of all, the Russian accents are awful. They occasionally slip into Indian territory. And the Russian flies are all red-eyed and evil and obsessed with beating the American flies. Not because they are passionate about a moon mission, but because they don’t want the Americans to win. Because non-Americans are jealous and devious all the time, right? They don’t have goals other than hating on us. That’s definitely the impression I want to leave my child with. Thanks, Tim Curry.
Oh wait, I forgot the best part. The woman fly saves the day with her motherly love. She can’t actually do anything physical because she faints every time there’s a challenge presented to her. Good times.
One summer, I nannied for a wacky little girl named Leila who loved to watch the Wizard of Oz. Rather than swooning over Glinda’s sparkling gown and tiara, however, she would fist pump and scream “DIE, DOROTHY!!” in support of the Wicked Witch of the West during peak moments. For real. And with a voice that sounded as though she’d been drinking whisky and smoking Carltons for five years.
Leila-isms are oft-repeated in our home. We quote her more than any kid I nannied, taught or cared for in a ten year span (which at last count, including the girls who attended my South Central Los Angeles, pro-bono dance classes, totaled over 100). And no quote more often than this (said in a whiny, insistent, depressive tone): I Want To Watch Tee-Wee.
Leila was allotted only a few short hours of Dorothy or Wallace and Grommit reruns weekly and consistently tried to manipulate me into giving in and throwing a video on to keep the complaints to a minimum (which I did not do, of course. In case you’re reading this, mom of Leila. We made whole grain granola and read Proust instead).
My daughter has shortened this phrase to simply “I want to watch”. Which is probably because she’s a Taurus and doesn’t have time to pansy around with long complicated five-word sentences. She’s also amazingly confident navigating the remote and often masters new search functions before we even know about them, prompting quick grab-and-recoveries like “yes that was cartoon but, honey, it’s the grown up kind” (Yikes).
So our family tee wee habits have waxed and waned. For the past year we’ve not had ANY cable, and instead have been streaming stuff from our awesome Roku box, which enables us to watch all the horrible movies that Netflix offers for free, but also a guaranteed nightly viewing of Rachel Maddow on the news channel, cheaply rented movies and TV shows from Amazon, and the occasional addition of a great movie to Netflix’s Starz queue. We have a cute little flatscreen Hanspree monitor connected to the Roku, the DVD player and the living room stereo, forming a poor girl’s version of a home entertainment system and it’s been just peachy.
But then we have this baby coming. In December our world will be rocked and we’ll be exhausted by a new tiny person (I’m still trying to catch up on sleep from the first one. Five years ago). And I recall VIVIDLY that there’s nothing more lovely than fondling the remote control while the baby drops back to sleep at the tail end of a 4am feeding, and finding a reminder of the wonderful outside world, still glamorous and with room in it for you, in the form of Bravo, HBO and A&E.
As part of preparation for said baby, I’ve been ogling U-verse ads that come, and finding sweet deals for wall mountable tee wee sets on chain store websites, but I just can’t commit. I suspect my wife, though she appears cool on the issue, would secretly would throw her Marc Jacobs bag into the bay for a night with bonafide cable and a bag of pretzels. Should we throw in the towel and embrace pop culture? Or save those hard earned cable payments for some post-partum massages?
We spent the weekend furiously trying to pull in some quality family time, what with spending recent free hours stationing the three year old in front of some awful princess movie and hitting the snooze button.
Warp speed has continued for us, and will do so through mid-September when I will finish my wine program and likely die of exhaustion. We have been having visitors, thank heavens, to break up the tragic monotony of work-and-school-and-work-and-school, but have paid dearly for every moment with them over the week following their stay with us, when we look around and realize no one has had time to grocery shop and we’re going on day four of waking to find there is nothing clean to wear to work.
We had been planning to drive down to the Monterey Bay Aquarium and dazzle the baby with penguins and sea otters for some
time. Saturday was the day and along with the “big fishies and little fishies”, the baby was absolutely estatic to discover cotton candy, a thing she had heard about but never seen in person. She chomped down a tottering cyclone of blue cotton candy as we strolled the 1.5 miles to the Aquarium. She could have stopped there but the Aquarium did not disappoint, and we even had time to do the whole clam-chowder thing on the pier before driving back home.
Sunday morning I pulled some time in at work while the wife and kid attended a successful 2-year old birthday party that apparently involved chocolate cupcakes, great coffee, and a guest named Xander, in honor of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer character.
Nursing the activity hangover that afternoon, we stopped into Bakesale Betty for her infamous fried chicken sandwich and lemon ice, grabbed a seat on the sunny sidewalk and chowed down. It felt lovely to people watch our truly rad and diverse neighborhood, and I felt encouraged by the fact that we live in a community that embraces sitting on stools along the sidewalk at tables made of brightly painted ironing boards. With all our pushing and life-building to the “next big thing”, I sometimes forget how amazing life is just outside my kitchen window.
The baby is also relishing the moment. She takes a bite of her chicken, and a long draw of lemon-ice and reflects on her weekend. She is smiling.
“What’s up, baby?”
She leans over and hugs me deeply, burying her face into my shoulder.
“I’m so happy my tears are coming out”, she says.
I hug her back.
“Why are you so happy today, sweetie?” I whisper into her ear, still laying against my face.
“Because I love you” she replies.
My daughter is picking up all sorts of funny phrases lately. Her latest one is an incarnation of “I’m serious,” which you can guess is something we say to her when we really need her to cooperate.
As in, “Ella, go get your shoes on. I’m serious.”
Now she has taken this one and is using it right back at me with a firm look in her eyes:
“Mommy, I am going to watch my dinosaur movie. I am really serious about that.”
Incidentally I am really getting sick of the Land Before Time. Duckie used to be so appealing and cute to me. Now when he starts singing (the sequels, oddly, are all musicals) I just want to put him in a mason jar and float him out on Lake Merrit.
I took Little Buddha to the restroom
at our favorite taqueria tonight, before we scooted off to the Bakery
and then the Rose Garden (what a lovely way to spend the afternoon!)
and while she's sitting, she's staring up at my purse, which is hanging
on the hook on the bathroom door.
"What were you wearing?" she asks casually.
"You mean my purse?"
"No what were you wearing, that was green," she clarifies.
I glance back, remembering that I've tied a bright green scarf
around the strap of my brown leather summer bag to give a bit of
verve to an otherwise uninspiring weekend outfit.
"You mean my scarf, sweetie? I tied it on my bag"
"Why?"
"Just because I like it. It's a pretty color, don't you think?"
She nods and asks earnestly and hopeful, "Is it for you to use it when you're dancing?"
I have no idea where she got the idea that one dances with scarves
as we have not subjected her to those awful movement classes, but I
appreciate her sentiment. In her eyes, we all take the time to dance
just for fun often, and we are carefree enough to toss a scarf around
while we're doing it. In fact, we might have a scarf tied on our bag
just in case the mood strikes us to dance at the taqueria. I almost
felt bad for saying no. I kissed her on the cheek and told her what a
wonderful sweet soul she is, and she smiled.
"I'm done going pee pee!"
And we were off again..