Month: January 2003
bayard rustin
what an inspiring individual. i just listened to this while working in the kitchen.
in other news, i managed to not only break a pyrex plate but also cut myself in the arm with it. hopefully, i inspire no one to do the same.
i have to crow
i am playing Beatles Anthology 2. for those who don't know, the Beatles Anthology set includes a variety of earlier versions of Beatles classics, as well as some non-released (well, officially) material. anyway, we heard some early versions of Strawberry Fields Forever, which sounded very rudimentary, as well as a version of Penny Lane, which is not too different from the final product except for some different instrumentation (extra trumpet solos, etc.)
“mama, this (Penny Lane) sounds different than the one in daddy's car.”
i would like to point out that my daughter is barely 4.
christian rock
this is hysterical. thanks to murph (or her bud eddie, in truth.)
tonight, just before bed
“where will we meet in our dreams tonight, little girl? at the ballet? at a tea party?”
“we’ll meet at barbie.com, mama.”
i am trying not to laugh. “okay, honey. what will we wear when we meet?”
“i’ll wear the flowered barbie dress. you can wear the wedding dress.”
“sounds lovely. you know, my wedding dress is upstairs in a box.”
“can i see it, mama?”
“well, i can show you a picture of me in it when daddy and i got married.”
“why can’t i see it now?”
“because it is in a box in the attic, all sealed up. i didn’t know if i would have a little girl when i got married, but i always hoped i would so that i could give her my wedding dress one day if she decided to get married. and you, my girl, can have the dress if you ever want to get married. it’s all sealed up and saved.”
“thank you, mama.” BC pauses for a moment, then starts to cry. “mama, what will you have to remember me by? will you remember me when i am not a little girl?”
i am trying not to cry, but i start to cry. “little girl,” i say, “i will always remember you. i am your mama. i will save some things from when you were little so that we will both have them when you grow up.”
“mama, are you crying?”
“yes, honey, i guess i am.” BC sticks her fingers in my eyes, wiping the tears. or at least, trying to. “i will save things for you just like my mommy saved some things for me.”
“you mean, you will save some things like grandma saved for you?”
“yes.”
pause.
“mama, what did grandma look like when she got married? did she have a wedding dress?”
“yes, sweetie. she looked absolutely beautiful.”
“and grandpa? how did he look?”
“very, very handsome.”
“he’s a goofy guy.”
“yes, dear, he is.” laughing. my father is a goofy guy. and the best, like my mom.
“was he a goofy guy at the wedding?”
“i don’t know, honey. i wasn’t born yet. i only know how they looked because i have seen the pictures.”
“can i see the pictures?”
“yes, sweetie, the next time we go up to visit.”
pause.
“mama, did grandma have a big, wiggly belly when she got married?”
“you mean, did grandma have a baby in her belly when she got married? like my belly?”
“yes.”
“no, honey. uncle howie wasn’t born until nearly two years after grandma and grandpa got married.”
“that’s a long time… how long for you, mama?”
“oh, i was born about 6 or 7 years after grandma and grandpa were married.”
“wow, that’s a long time. and uncle larry? he is second.”
“yes, he is. he was born about 4 years after grandma and grandpa were married.”
“well, i want to get married and have a baby.”
“that sounds wonderful, sweetie.”
BC starts to cry.
“mama, will you come to my wedding?”
i am crying again. “honey, i would love to come to your wedding. if you want, i will even help you plan it when the time comes.” BC smiles again.
“mama, can i have purple streamers and balloons at my wedding?”
laughing. “whatever you want, my dear.”
“and cake?”
“absolutely.”
“cos i want cake and purple streamers.”
“you got it, honey.”
BC pauses. then, she cries.
“mama, i want to marry daddy!”
laughing, quietly. to myself. “honey, daddy can only marry one person at a time, and he is already married to me. but i know he will want to be at your wedding, too. and he will want to dance with you.”
pause.
“mama?”
“yes, honey?”
she takes my chin in her tiny hands. “i wish you good luck.”
“thank you, my beautiful girl. i wish it for you, always.”
BC smiles. this is enough for one evening.
just thought i'd point this out
BS is sitting with BC, reading aloud last week's Dave Barry column from the Washington Post Sunday Magazine.
i'm not sure whether i should laugh or cry about this.
sick kid alert
BC is coughing nastily, phlegmily, croupily. fortunately, she has no temperature, so it might just be a crappy cold. but who knows. she has had croup already about 8 times in her life, and it is frightening every single damn time. she fights to breathe. it usually hits around 11pm, without fail. and then, the drill. i get the shower all steamy, BS takes her in the steam and lets her inhale the warm air while i put on warm clothes. then, i wrap her up as warmly as i can and take her out onto the deck into the cold night air, which somehow also helps her. for some reason, that is how it works. then, while i am outside, BS prepares the foldout bed in the sunroom. then, i bring in BC, who is thrilled to be spending the night in the sunroom sleeping with her daddy.
unless, of course, it is one of those nights where i can't help her to breathe. then, we have the delightful, middle-of-the-night emergency room experience. the one where it takes a long time to get her some assistance (because there are people with gunshot wounds or something probably more serious, i guess), and by the time she gets it, she is doing better. and then we wonder whether we should have brought her in in the first place. but you wouldn't want to not bring her in if she really, truly needed it.
parenthood is scarier than skydiving. my hair will be grey by the time i am 40.
precedents
just saw a video of BC that spans the years from when she is about 7 months old until she is 2.5.
at 13 months, she is batting herself around to smokey robinson's you've really got a hold on me. she had just learned to walk, so it is a sloooooow dance.
at about 18 months, i have her dancing to groove is in the heart, and boy, is it a goof. i have to move her arms around, lift her up, and all sorts of sly-looking moves.
at 2.5, she is twirling around the room to the bangles' hero takes a fall. all on her own.
now, it takes nothing at all to get her to dance. thus:
1) it is no surprise that i have raised jr. gene gene the dance machine; and,
2) i am, and i guess i can say i have always been, a little bit weirder than the other moms i know.
Free Barbie!
dear mattel,
i realize you are deep in the throes of trying to understand why little girls who are 7 are suddenly not interested in barbie. i would like to propose a theory. my daughter started receiving barbies when she was three. aw, we thought when she received her first, how funny. how cute.
then we tried to open the package and liberate barbie from her little box. once you carve your way into the box, you first have to get all those twisted metals things off her. then the zig-zag tape sewn through the box through her head that inevitably holds her hair down. then, little strings that hold down various other pieces.
it's insanity.
now, this december, my BC celebrated her birthday, chanukah, and christmas. she received several barbies and kens. i just completed freeing “happy birthday barbie,” her hair brush, the little cards and little present, from the package. it was not pretty.
so why do little girls lose interest in barbie by age 7? i'll tell you why. mom and dad just ain't going through the packaging anymore. they get them a game boy or something else and call it a day.
shit. i know i will.