Archives for July 2010
Okay, I get it. Someone lent us the Pixar movie, Cars. It kept Nora relatively occupied and still for more than an hour and a half. I did some reading and unwinding. Ben was able to stretch without being pounced on.
My four regular readers know we don’t own a television. I’ve railed against screen time on this blog. I’m sending my kid to a school where they expressly ask you not to let your child watch television or movies.
Television is not inherently evil, but the way the culture uses it is undeniably detrimental to our lives. It is a mechanism to create consumers and the more you watch, the more you consume.
Like choosing local food, our media choices should reward those who make programming that aligns with our own values.
I’m coming around to the idea of allowing an occasionally movie on a Friday night. But, we must observe what we’re really getting out of this. An hour of peace is results in a child who has more trouble winding down, copies undesirable behavior and spouts pop culture references. Most of the time, it’s just not worth it. But, sometimes? At the end of a long week, it’s just what everybody needs.
I was too tired for a proper story time on Wednesday night, so I asked Nora and Ben to tell me a story instead.
Here is Nora’s story:
I went to the beauty shop and then that one was closed and then I went to another beauty shop and then that one was open and then I took a nap and then I ate a squirrel.
Here is Ben’s story:
There was once a little mouse named Ralph and he had a motorcycle and he rode his motorcycle all the way to Astoria and back and then he had…Bubblebee Tuna.
Living with jokers like these, is it any wonder I get a bit tired? Happily, I can be tired and delighted at the same time.
Last night, at dinner, Nora would occasionally yell, “Freeze!” Ben and I would pause mid-bite and wait for her to say, “Now, move!” It was the most fun I’ve had all week.
Today is our nine year wedding anniversary. We’re not in a celebratory mood. Ben’s back went out again and I have PMS. Though, if questioned separately, Newlywed Game style, I believe each of us would tell you we are happy and content being married to each other.
One of the things no one tells you when you get pregnant is that your relationship with your partner, as you know it, is about to end. At the same time that the tether that binds you is strengthened by the little life you create together, it is also lengthened. You see each other from a bit of a distance, as you each tend to all the new tasks a child creates. You stare at one another in wonderment as your baby reaches for an object for the first time, while you long for the time to simply lay in each other’s arms. You are both exhausted, over-worked, desperate. And desperately in love with your child.
Ben and I had many years together before Nora. It was helpful, in that our foundation was very solid, but also a challenge, as we were accustomed to having endless time together.
Nora is three now, and our little family feels integrated and stable. We all fit together and understand each other’s quirks and moods.
Our problem is we’re always moving, moving, moving. I’m glad we have Nora to remind us to “Freeze!”
I’m going out to buy Ben a date outfit and hire a sitter for this weekend. Here’s to hoping we can stop time, if only for an evening.
I said I’d have another chapter review of NutureShock ready for today. I don’t. Here’s a delightful anecdote instead:
Nora has her first imaginary friend.
We were at the dinner table last night and Nora started referring to her friend, “Toni.”
“Who’s Toni?” I asked.
“Toni helps us keep mice out of the chicken coop,” Nora said.
“Oh. What does she look like?”
“I’ll show you on the computer when I’m done eating,” Nora said.
I had several windows open on my laptop, which Nora had seen me working on earlier. I’d been looking for sewing patterns for slippers.
I brought up the windows, one at a time. Nora pointed to an image at the top of the screen. “That’s Toni,” she said.
Her pointer finger tapped a photo of Martha Stewart.
That’s right, my three-year-old’s imaginary friend is a media mogul.
Now, if I could just get her to organize my closets.