A Sick Day

I'm old enough to know that I can't do it all--work full-time, be a mom, be sick, and participate in this post-a-day blog challenge. So while I take a day or two to recoup from this rather nasty cold, take a gander at this post on Clio Confidential. It made me think about how we use blogs, and I, too, am guilty of trying to present the more positive aspects of our family's life rather than those issues that are more painful, and harder to express via the blog form.

Hair

When I saw Vivian for the first time, I was shocked by her tiny mane of dark brown hair. Before she came into our lives, all we knew was Aryan race poster boy Bertram. I could not believe that we had produced two children who looked so different. At 9 months, Bertram was still kind of a baldy. By contrast, Vivian at 9 months is either ready for a haircut or ready for her mother to purchase infant girl hair accessories.

Baby barrettes are a sham. I know this. The clips look good for all of two minutes until the kid starts to futz with them, and then they just kind of dangle precariously—threatening to drop to the floor. The other option is a stretchy hair band that makes the baby appear to be an infant version of Olivia Newton John circa her “Let’s Get Physical” phase.

Helen’s Mom over at the sadly defunct Storkbite (join us for the February post a day challenge!) says the solution is Aqua Net. Thusfar, hair spray has done the trick, but young Miss Vivi’s hair is starting to get into her eyes.

I vascillate between wanting to let her hair grow and being practical. I do like those little bob hair cuts. But, what compares to the vision of a little girl running around with a snarl of hair flowing behind her. Or with silly braids! Or crazy ponytails sticking up every which way. As a theatre person, I never liked musicals, but I can’t help that these lyrics spring to mind when I think about Vivian’s hair--

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair

Language Is a Virus, Part 3

I saw this guy on the train
And he seemed to gave gotten stuck
In one of those abstract trances.
And he was going: "Oo-ah...Oo-ah...Oo-ah..."

These lyrics, particularly the bit about the man on a train in a trance spouting gobbley gook, remind me of young Master Bertram and his current obsession: Curious George. I’ve already noted that mimicry is one of young Master B’s specialties. Mimicry serves Bertram well when he imitates the way in which my fellow Parental Unit and I read books aloud. For instance, when we read Beatrix Potter’s Tale of Tom Thumb, does Hunca Munca merely squeak with joy upon seeing the doll’s food laid out upon the table? Oh no, she squeeeaks with joy! So delighted is Bertram at this pronunciation that he repeats it to us as, “Mommy squeeeks with joy! Daddy squeeeks with joy!”

Where this toddler mimicry becomes a problem is when Bertram decides to imitate that cartoon monkey George. So instead of words, I get to hear, “oooh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, oooh aaah.” That’s right, young Master B speaks monkey. When I remind Bert to use words, he takes that as a cue to repeat his monkey declarations, only louder and with stomping and jumping for extra emphasis. Thank you, PBS Kids.

What I want to understand is why so many kids'shows feature shouting unintelligible creatures like George or characters like Sesame Street’s Baby Bear, who speaks with a lisp. Many of young Master B’s contemporaries seem similarly drawn to mimicking, so I have to wonder what the thought process is for the child education experts (supposedly working for these shows) who create these characters with speech impediments—yes, I am looking at you Elmo: Parental Unit One wants to introduce you to her new paper shredder.

Getting Serious for February

In honor of the short month of February, I’ve issued a post-a-day challenge to Adrian’s mom over at Apparently. To show that I am 100-percent committed, I have posted a serious picture of young Miss Vivian.

As predicted, the dental storm has arrived. Young Miss Vivi now sports two bottom teeth—perfect for treats such as super-ripe and peeled pear on a fork or the rice cereal puffs that Bertram calls “squishy flowers.” With her new chompers in place, Vivi seems to believe that food is for the taking, be it your food or her brother’s food. You truly do not want to be the poor parental sod who decides to take away the food before young Miss Vivi is done. For then, you will awaken Vivian the Bad who will scream and shake her sticky fists at you. And that is not good.