The Trickster

Do kids know they are silly? I question their sense of right and wrong, perhaps because it seems completely non-existent most days. I look at a picture like this and I think, if you look deep enough into the child's eyes, you can see a tiny glint of silliness. In other words, I think he knows that putting the duckie IN the mouth is just plain ridiculous. What if, however, we were talking about something slightly more harmful or dangerous then a rubber duckie...

This morning when I got out of the shower. Picture morning music, birds chirping, steam swirling about me like eddies. I step out all relaxed and warmed through to the bones and there is my daughter. She is playing with a box or two of Dove soap and a dried sponge. I grab my towel and look back down. She has a flap on the box open and, thank goodness, it is the empty of the two boxes. I flop my head upside down to rub my scalp dry. I swing back up to become Mommy-towel-head and I hear cartoon horns of alarm...ARRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOGAHHHHHHH ARROOOOOOOOOOGAHHHH! My daughter is chewing on the toliet sponge. Careful not to scare the bejesus out of her I quietly say, "Oh Elena, Silly Girl, that's a dirty sponge" and whisk it away in an instant. Jeepers creepers, will my skin ever stop crawling? Bleck, bleck, bleck! Ahhhh, were it only possible to watch her every second of her life.....sigh.

When Do They Change?

Looking at this picture, it is easy to see how "out there" little girls can be. Some are hams. They are so comfortable in their own skin. Whether outgoing or shy, if they are raised with love and acceptance, they will be rooted in the belief that they are a gift to their parents and society. Their childhood is carefree and spirited. Until somewhere between the ages of ten and fifteen when it all changes.

She becomes aware of herself as a female among other females. She becomes now aware of societal role models. She becomes aware of men and what they idealize. She becomes aware of how perfectly she fits the mold or doesn't fit the mold. And, for the rest of her teens, she will measure herself to ideals. Hopefully, after her teens, when college comes with its "decade of the brain," she will realize that personality and intelligence carry a lot of weight. Hopefully, she will become comfortable in her own skin and reach her arms across her chest and hug herself.

Babies Are Beautiful

I often wonder how a being with a bald head, out-of-proportion eyes, drooling mouth, pot belly and short little limbs can be breathtakingly beautiful. They aren't yet capable of loving, but everyone's response to them is pure, unconditional love. A new mother looks down into the face of her newborn: red in the face, shriveled like a raisin, matted hair, eyes shut, and curled in a ball. She loves him immediately. It is the end of their journey together and the start of their era of separateness.

At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
Boris Pasternak

My Treefort and Dutchess the Horse

This picture instantly brought back memories of my tree fort. It was not a pre-fabricated playhouse or a parent-supervised construction project. It was me and a hammer and found wood pieces in the crotch of a large stand of trees in my backyard. To me, it looked like this picture here. It was my fantasy fort. Resplendent, but durable. What it lacked in structure, I made up for in imagination and embellishment.

I was probably age eight when I started building my fort. We were having an addition built on our home in Brookfield, CT and I pilfered nails and wood that were cast off from the big project. I built the first two floors first. The tree fort never got higher then two stories, but I always described it as a five-story fort. There was a "basement" which was created when the first floor went in and served as the dog kennel. There was a three foot by three foot first floor and a tiny second floor, which you accessed through the traditional "hatch-in-the-floor." On which one person could sit Indian-style (can I be politically correct and say that?). If two people were on the "third floor," they really could only stand hugging each other.

These were the original three floors. Then came a side house that was impressive with a window and a roof - this was known as story number four. Then its roof, story number five, served as a roof deck. Attached to the tree and to a big old stump, was a one by five piece of trim. It was probably five feet long or so. When resting on two ledges as it was, it served as a bouncy horse. I would pretend to be chased and mount my "horse," Dutchess as fast as I could and gallop off. Dutchess was a good friend. I made her a saddle and reins. Sure, I pinched my finger a few times, but some horses are peevish.

I still remember how my imagination made that treefort look. In my mind's eye, it is a culmination of childhood dreams and visions. If I looked at a picture of it today, it would no doubt look like the "eyesore" my father always saw when he looked at it. I am glad I never saw it through adult eyes. And so, it remains a palace!

I Learn Something New Everyday

Alternate title for this blog was: The Differences Between Porcupines and Hedgehogs, Besides Hedgehogs Being Dumb as Rocks


Yup...it's official. I DO learn something new everyday. You CAN teach this old dog new tricks. I found this great picture of some porcupine babies out on the Web. I really LOVE the photo and was marvelling at how dang cute they are. Of course, my next-cube neighbor had to rain on my parade by telling me that those are actually baby hedgehogs. So, the something new I learned today, is the difference between porcupines and hedgehogs. You'll find a very interesting educational rant on the subject here.

In Your Shoes...

"The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that fits all cases" ~Carl Gustav Jung

Or in this case, the shoe that fits the mommy, swims on the baby. Our babies want to be just like us at this age. They look up to us. We are their heroines. We hold the starring role in their lives for the first three or four years. Then, their peers take over. They stop wanting to wear our shoes and copy our lead.

At first, the shift is subtle. They will meet a little friend at nursery school or a revere an older cousin and all you will hear is, "Miranda does this." Or, "Jessie has that shirt, I want it, too." By the time they are eight or so, "Ew, Mom, those are gross! Those SO aren't my style!"

I guess I am writing this post to myself to remind myself to treasure these moments. I don't want to lose patience with Elena's copying of me and carrying my stuff all around the house. I need to remember that this starring role I have is not forever. At some points, I might even feel like a washed-up actress playing merely a bit part in my child's life.

Allegory of the Cave

This picture reminds me of the caves we saw when we went to Bermuda. I am not sure if the woman in the photo is actually standing in front of a cave, but it got me to thinking about Plato. In Plato's Repulic, he uses the "cave" as a teaching tool. It is meant to teach the nature and cost of choosing to remain unenlightened. Thinking and questing means suffering, but isn't suffering with knowledge better than living a completely sheltered life? Here is an excerpt from Plato’s Republic, Book 7: "Allegory of the Cave" to get you thinking:

"And now, I said (Plato), let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: --Behold! human beings living in a underground cave, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the cave; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

- I see.

And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.

- You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.

Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave?
This excerpt from Plato’s Republic, Book 7: "Allegory of the Cave" conveys his wise observations and philosophy on the human condition. This allegory has inspired my own research since it discloses a most exciting and mystical process that prepares and awakens man to his true destiny.

Plato's Allegory of the cave

" And now, I said (Plato), let me show in a figure how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened: --Behold! human beings living in a underground cave, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along the cave; here they have been from their childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by the chains from turning round their heads. Above and behind them a fire is blazing at a distance, and between the fire and the prisoners there is a raised way; and you will see, if you look, a low wall built along the way, like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.

- I see.

And do you see, I said, men passing along the wall carrying all sorts of vessels, and statues and figures of animals made of wood and stone and various materials, which appear over the wall? Some of them are talking, others silent.

- You have shown me a strange image, and they are strange prisoners.

Like ourselves, I replied; and they see only their own shadows, or the shadows of one another, which the fire throws on the opposite wall of the cave?

So. What do you think? Is it better to see only representations and shadows, but be content in that? Or, do you think it would be better to be aware? If all of us are born prisoners who could awaken to a path of enlightenment, despite the inevitable pain and suffering, would you choose that route? I have chosen this path in my life and would make that same choice over and over again. However, don't ask me about it on a bad day.

The Crying Hiccups

Is there anything that pulls more at your heartstrings then a crying baby? Tonight, Elena was sleeping in the car, in my mother's driveway. We were all inside eating dinner. My husband checked on her and she was awake and crying. She calmed down to a "simmer" once we brought her into the house. I was feeding her some bites of Chinese food and she was enjoying it...enjoying it so much, in fact, she felt the need to grab a handful of greasy food from the center of my plate. "NO...ELENA...NO!" Well, that was it. She was right back to sobbing hysterically and incosolably. She was even having those little sobbing hiccups.

And then it happened...She wanted Da(hicc)da(up). I had to turn her over to him, in her greatest moment of need. She didn't want me and I wanted more then anything to fold her like dough back into me. I miss the days when all I had to do to keep her happy is just hold her. Those days are gone. Her needs are more complex. She actually knows what she wants and doesn't want. And, sometimes, she just doesn't want me.

Joe vs. the Margarita

I don't have many memories of my father drunk. In fact, I can really only conjure up two of them at this point. The reason my father "catching a buzz" is so rare is due in part to his being the self-appointed designated driver more often than not, in part because he grew up in a family where alcohol was incidental (instead of like mother's family, where it was basically another family member), and in part because he is 6' 5" and pushing 300 pounds.

Anyhow, one of these times was after a trip to Baxter's, a Southern California haunt (akin to Friday's). They had a concoction called a Mucho Margarita. You can see, of course, why this picture reminded me of that night. It was like my father finally found "his" world - a place where drinks were the size of his bear-sized hands and the cup and a half of tequilla actually affected his sobriety. He came home and lay on the floor. His two younger girls crawled all over him and played "floor Daddy" like we did every night after dinner. I looked on. I listened to the adults. I noticed the glazed look on my father's face. I think it was the first time I noticed how alcohol influences people.

Emblematic Exegesis

BABY, it says, in case I can't remember that this is, in fact, made for a baby. I don't understand why so many items these days have to have emblems and themes. Whatever happened to a simple embroidered teddy at the chest? What happened to "feetie" pajamas without pigs or dogs or fire hydrants stuck on out of patch material? How comfortable is all that "stuff" hanging off your clothes? Probably, not very.

My biggest pet peeve when Elena was a baby was when I got clothing that was of this ilk. Just for her first birthday, we got pajamas with a giant Care Bear face on the front. Even if it is to sleep in! When I peek in at night on Elena, and she is curled around her blankey, I want to focus on her simple beauty. I want to imagine her as a baby outside of time. I don't want one of those perma-grin, creepy characters smiling up at me from the crib.

Can someone please make pajamas without the product name across the front? Or, like the sweet boy in the picture, not detract from his cuteness, by feeling the need to announce that he is a BABY or that he is CUTE. As if we can't figure out, from his dimpled face and wide, innocent eyes, that he is one. We don't need advertisements in every single arena of our lives.

It won't be long before this little guy is asking for emblems. Team emblems on baseball caps or brand name sneakers and clothes. Until then, let's not pollute the innocence of his babyhood with stuck on adornments. He is just precious as he is. In fact, he might be MOST precious completely "nudie butt" in his birthday suit!

Black-eyed Peanut

They say all babies are born with blue eyes, but I find that hard to believe. This little one is quite young and is already sporting the deep black eyes of his mother. It is really interesting how genes choose to display themselves. My rudimentary understanding of genetics and Punnett squares enables me to figure out if brown eyes should be expected, if blue eyes are possible, if brown eyes are impossible and so on. I am great with one or two gene combinations. However, throw a multi-gene trait, such as my daughter's red hair color, at me and I am completely flummoxed.

Perhaps the strangest story of eye color comes from one of my imaginary friends who swears, up and down, that her daughter is the only one in the family with brown eyes. I have to go back to my genetics book to see how this is possible. As far as I know, it is not. Any geneticists out there?

This little guy proudly wears his brown-black eyes. Someday, he will marry and carry those dominant browns into another relationship. Is it possible he will help to create a blue-eyed child? Depends on if he is packing a hidden little b (gene for blue eyes is recessive). I can only tell you that no matter what color eyes they wear, he will make beautiful children. Those genes are strong. Those genes for beauty in a baby carry through...no matter what.

Painted Baby

Circuses scare me. Carnies scare me. Gypsies scare me. Why is it that these wandering, modern-day-nomads frighten me so? Is it that I moved many, many times in my life and these groups symbolize that uprooting to me? Is it that their tight-knit communities are exclusive and I feel shut out? Could it be that they have been the subject of too many a disturbing movie or TV show?

Now, I know circuses scare me because they have clowns. I guess I have coulrophobia (fear of clowns). Their painted faces obscure my ability to read what they are thinking. Masks affect me the same way. I didn't realize though, that the fear of clowns was so common. Why in the world are they so popular at kids parties?

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Postscript: This is the cutest baby ever! Look for pictures of her in all her glory later. She's a beautiful girl, I am sorry she made me think of clowns.

Daryl the Dogigator

Gerry sent me this picture. He said, "Now, I KNOW you can do something with Daryl the Dogigator." Wha......? What the hell is a dogigator? Well, here you see Daryl. Here is the back of his Time-Life Wildlife Collector's Card:

Family: Alligatoridae
Genus: Canine
Species: Domesticus
Favorite Food: crawfish or bunnies
Habitat: swampy and marshy areas in the Southeast United States. Also, seen domesticated in some circus acts and zoos.

Sorry, Gerry, I can't do better with the dogigator...

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Postscript: Can anyone help me remember what those wildlife cards sold on TV in the 70's/80's were called? They came in a plastic caddy. They were wildlife themed, but I think they had others, too...like autos and machines. I don't know. It's driving me insane!

Red

I am going to break tradition here. I am going to write an essay on one of my own pictures. It's in the form of a letter to my daughter...

Dear Elena,

You are so special to me and your father. All children are special to their parents, but not every child is special like you are. You are different. You were born with red hair. This may seem like nothing too earth shattering...red hair is common, right? No. It's not. It's especially not common in our family. You are unique. And it's made even more special by the sheer number of people who stop you on the street and comment on it.

"Oh, a redhead!"
"What a sweet coppertop!"
"Goodness, she's precious..."
"I can't BELIEVE that red hair!"

It's a real gift to have that red hair. I want you to always know that it is a symbol of how unique you are to us. It can be hard to be different sometimes. I hope you can always remember this and wear that beautiful red proudly!

Love,
Mommy

Sneaking Up On You

There is a time, when you hold tight to your baby and they just lay there in your arms. They look at you with slightly muddy, baby vision and start to identify that you are someone who will protect them and love them. Your fears are simple: are they eating enough? drinking enough? dry in the diaper area? Slowly, as you change diapers and wipe noses, they learn to sit and then stand and then walk. They toddle for awhile and you hold your breath as they fall over and over again. They develop language. First one word, then two, then sentences, then they prattle on incessantly.

I am reminded of those TV commercials that compress a person's entire life into a 30-second spot. They show, for example, a young boy playing with a ball and bat, then climbing on the bus, then off to college, married, cradling his own baby, then biking with his own kids, then grandkids, and finally, sitting in a chair peacefully overlooking the many generations he has spawned. Those ads make me livid. HOW DARE YOU SELL A CREDIT CARD BY MAKING ME CRY LIKE THIS!!! I certainly don't want the impermanence of life used to persuade me into a new credit card or life insurance or Kleenex.

But, in some sense, those ads reveal a truth. Time sneaks up on you. You have a teeny baby and then, one day, you look up and they are running down the beach away from you. They have become a kid. They are not a baby. They are not a toddler. They are independent and capable. They have taken off and are running down the beach away from you. You want to drop the camera and chase after them. Swaddle them in a beach towel and hold them tight. But, you don't, you let them have some distance, you capture the moment on film instead. You are a good parent. You let them go, however hard it is for you, because you know that that is what is best for them.

Leading From Behind

In the consulting world there is a concept called leading from behind. The premise is that if I can make you aware of the problem and the proper solution, but you feel like you came up with it all on your own, then you will continue to want me around. A good consultant doesn't boss you, they encourage you and lead you from behind...without you realizing you are being led.

A good parent does the same thing. They lead their young child to make decisions in their best interest.

Maybe you would rather read this book, then play with that light socket.

Maybe I will just put this broccoli here on your tray and not put any other food down...if it's the only choice, maybe it will be chosen.

My grandmother once uttered a line that has become famous in our family. She was about ready to blow up in my two-year-old sister, Ashley's, face. She was about to break the cardinal rule and ORDER a two-year-old to, FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-PETE-SHUT-UP. So, she began..."Ashley...WOULD YOU..." and caught herself and sang in a timorous voice while wielding a spatula, "Ashley eat the toast, Grandmommy cook the egg. Ashley eat the toast, Grandmommy cook the egg. Ashley eat the..." You get the picture. Out frustration was born a moment in family history. The fmaily now says, if you are stressed and look like you are going to burst, "looks like you are 'cooking the egg' again!" OR "She looked like she 'cooked one too many eggs.'"

This picture debunks my theory. This child is not being led from behind, but she is doing the leading. At six months, she is in charge and extends one confident finger to prove it. Is it possible that our babies ALWAYS lead from behind? Have I had it wrong all these years? Who really is the one in control?

I Love Me...I Mean, You

My mom says people always look alike in their engagement photos. She and my dad enjoy looking at the Ridgefield Press, when it comes out every Thursday, and pointing this out to each other. It's a theory they have both held for years, so I argue that they only notice those couples that validate their theory. I also think it is the lighting in the photos. People's pictures taken with a professional lighting system will cast certain shadows on the face...blah blah blah...OK, it's not a very scientific theory. I just think lighting has something to do with it, OK? But stil, they insist that coupling is a narcissistic venture.

I think this picture I received proves my parents' viewpoint on this subject...what do you think?

Tiny Boy in a Big Boy Coat

This is the most beautiful picture. It's not only the adorable boy in it, but what the big coat conveys to me. It's as if, he is aware of the fact that he is small. He has stepped out of baby-reality, which isn't even aware that "I" am an "I" or that "You" are a "You." For a moment, it is as if he is contemplating his size. This coat is made for someone bigger. Maybe I will be that someone someday? Where is my hand? Why are my arms so short?

This reminds me of a story I heard once. I have no idea of its verity. There is no way to corroborate it, as it is based on hearsay. The story goes like this...A mother went out and bought her newborn son a very classy, very fancy, very expensive suit. On his actual day of birth and every subsequent birthday, she would fit the garment over him and take a picture. At the age of 18, he finally grew into the suit fully. It was at that moment she realized that if he now fit into a man's suit, he must be a man. He was no longer her baby. She had the pictures to prove it.
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Two postscripts to this story.
1) I would never do this to myself. See my post on milestones to understand why.
2) What if that "suit" had been bought in the 70's...can you even imagine how torn you would be between crying at your handsome grown up son and laughing your head off at the styles that were acceptable in the 70's?

Uniforms and Time Clocks

I always lumped uniforms in with time clocks as facets of blue collar life. You put on a uniform and a hair net, you go to your job and you clock in, you finish your day you clock out. They are pratical for the blue collar worker and the employer. It's a win/win situation. School uniforms serve a similar purpose.

Time clocks and uniforms have something else in common I hadn't thought of until I saw this picture. See if you can follow my logic. For some time now, I have been ruminating about time clocks. When I started my new job, I feared that I would now have to clock in and out through a computer interface. I thought this would make me feel very constricted. I have always thought of uniforms as constricting too...But alas, the converse is true.

One person is not more popular than another due to the clothes they wear. You cannot make judge a child's wealth due to their name-brand school clothes versus their Wal-Mart specials. All students are equal in uniforms.

The same goes for my time clock system at work. I am required to work eight hours a day. I come in, log on, work eight hours and go home. There are no brownie points for staying late or coming in super early. I can work 7-3 or 10-6. It doesn't matter. I am not always looking over my shoulder to see who is "beating" me by staying later or coming in earlier. I know we are all on the same timer.

So, time clocks and uniforms though they may seem constricting, are great at enabling equality. There just might be some comfort in looking like everyone else and being just a number on time sheet.

Flip the Sibling

These two, made from the same genetic soup in the same womb, try to fuse themselves together. Like attracts like. What is the origin of this struggle? A silly wrestle? A game of "flip the sibling"? A fight for the mother's love?

This reminds of my sister in childhood. My sister Cate, who at this time in her life was known as Casey, always wanted to be with my mother. We were five years apart, she and I and this was a gulf the size of a canyon. For the first six years of her life or so, we were arch enemies. She took over my mother's attention from me with her ardent presence. She would cling to my mother, hug her legs, demand her lap and took all that doting, doting I had never needed nor acknowledged, and bathed in it. As an adult, Cate describes her attachment to my mother by saying she was shocked by being outside the womb and spent the first years of her life trying to find a way back into the belly.

Are all clingy children looking for that return to their mother's womb? Are these two depicting a physical representation of this wish to return to their genesis? Do they try to best each other subconsciously knowing, "There's not enough room for the both of us in there"?

Choose Your Own Ending

Upon first glance, this is a very sweet moment. Brother and sister fishing on the dock together. Mom and Dad sit in Adirodack chairs looking on, sipping Ceasars. If they were not so engrossed in their own conversation, they would notice that SHE is attempting to teach Brother how to fish PROPERLY. HE is not happy with it and the two are actually locked in a struggle. A game of chicken. A fishing pole, WITH a hook and surrounded by water. What do you suppose happened next?

A) A fight? There is a huge sibling outburst and the parents somehow get ensnared.

B) A splash? One or both of the siblings ends up in the water.

C) A trip to the Emergency Room? Hook through the tender skin of the under eye or lip.

Since I made the whole thing up, we shall never know. Unless you are deperate to know, then leave me a comment and vote and I will finish it.

Not a Dog Person

The great question nature vs. nurture is brought to light here. Are babies born dog-people or cat-people? We all know the population is divided in half on this subject. What we don't all know, but I do, is that little Emma (the baby scrunching her face in the photo) lives in a home with cats. So, would you think that perhaps, she was born a cat person? Born thinking dogs are slobbery and gross? Born enjoying a pet that is smaller than her? Born liking a pet who prefers walking gracefully BY you, as opposed to bounding headfirst AT you? A cat purrs and nudges. A dog barks and demands you give full attention...now...now...NOW! What if our prediliction towards one pet or another is an indicator of whether we will be introverted or extroverted?

I leave you with this Deep Thought, by Jack Handey. It doesn't quite apply, but it's one of my favorites nonetheless:

If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd say Flippy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though. It's Hambone.

Clutch - A Haiku

Clutching my sister
Slippery childhood drowns us
But I won't let it

(wow...not only was that cheating to write in the shortest literary form available, but it was also depressing).

Sorry...I will do better next time.

Now Which Remote Turns Off Mommy's Camera Again?

Well, here comes Mom with that camera again. Usually I smile for it, but right now, I am at the end of my rope...I mean, I have had it UP TO HERE! One of these clickery things must stop her. I know they can stop Elmo and Big Bird on TV. Please Mom, for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY, STOP TAKING MY PICTURE.

I really can't help it if I am so cute, though. I come by it naturally. My brother is cute, my mom is adorable, and my father is just plain stunning. The whole world thinks I am the cutest little girl ever. Maybe I'll let her take this one picture. I will give her a new face, though, this time. I will do surprise...ok, ok...here it goes: SURPRISE. Wait, wait, wait...did that look more like shock?

Send Me Your Interesting Photos...

And I will write a blog about it. Email your pictures to pictureessays@hotmail.com. As soon as I get my first submission, I will start!

Stay tuned...