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Sep 30, 2011

Retro Pop Media Exposure

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One of the best things about being a mom is getting to expose my children to all of the pop culture I grew up with when I was a kid. Sure, the TV programs of today are certainly more educational – with the exception of the always educational Sesame Street – but the nostalgic side of me still fondly remembers the cartoons and movies of my youth.

And thanks to Netflix having nothing decent from the past five years available in its instant streaming collection, I’ve been having regular flashbacks to the days of neon clothing and non-computerized animation. Some things haven’t changed: Jim Henson Studios is just as awesome as it was back then. But I’m realizing that some of my memory may have been clouded now that I’m watching all of these cartoons and movies with an adult’s judgment. Yet some of them are just as fantastic now as they were in the eighties.

What have I been forcing…umm…encouraging my daughters to watch recently? Glad you asked!

He-Man and She-Ra – The animation is very heavy on stock footage, and you can tell each voice actor has at least 6 characters on his or her credits, but the storylines still hold up today. The moral of the story at the end of each episode (just in case you didn’t pick up on that episode’s theme) is still cute, too.

But I especially love the girl-power message in She-Ra, and will gladly let Cordy and Mira watch this whenever they want.

Fraggle Rock – I never really watched Fraggle Rock much as a kid. I liked the original Muppet Show and Sesame Street, but for some reason I wasn’t that interested in Fraggle Rock. Now that my kids watch it, though, I wish I would have seen more of it when I was younger. The green-screen effects are ancient, but muppets are timeless.

Scooby Doo – This one I take no credit for. They’ve both seen Scooby Doo at school, and then asked to watch it at home. I didn’t like Scooby Doo much as a kid, and I still don’t care for it now. I like the idea of solving mysteries and proving that most scary things are explainable, but the humor just isn’t for me. If they ask to watch Scooby Doo, I use that time to catch up on email or clean. In another room.

Labyrinth – I loved this movie as a child for the fantasy storyline and the beautiful scenery. As an adult, I can’t stop staring at David Bowie’s package on display in those tights throughout the entire movie, which I guess means I’m still enjoying the beautiful scenery. Still a great story, still a fun adventure, and muppets are still timeless.

Jem – (Damn, I shouldn’t have put this right after Labyrinth – Jem & the Goblin King apparently have the same hairdresser.) I loved Jem as a kid. Had the dolls (with the cassettes that came with each of them), knew all the songs, and watched every episode. Watching it now, I wonder how brainwashed I must have been to like this show. Truly outrageous? More like truly baaaaaaad. The animation is awful, most of it features stereotypes of shallow, catty behavior in women, and how did I forget there was so much kissing in this show? Of course, I forgot all of this until AFTER I showed an episode to my kids. Now they love it and want to see more. Oops.

My Little Pony – OK, so my daughters aren’t watching the original My Little Pony that I watched in the eighties. There’s a new series on the Hub network now, and all of the reviews I’ve read say that it’s much better than the original. I have vague, fuzzy memories of being enamored with the original, so I’ll just have to take their word for it. The new series is fun, the ponies have a lot of attitude, and the new animation style is slick.

The Neverending Story – Admit it: you cried when Atreyu’s horse sunk in the swamp. I did every single time I saw this movie. And Cordy proved yet again to be a younger version of me – while watching it for the first time, all she could think about for the remainder of the movie was, “What happened to his horse? Will the horse be OK?” Forget the Nothing swallowing up all of Fantasia, or the creepy-yet-pretty Southern Oracle with the laser eyes, or the Empress dying…it’s all about Atreyu’s horse. Cordy wasn’t able to get a close enough look at the horse at the end of the movie to tell if it was the same horse, and even today she’s still worried about that horse sinking in the swamp. We may wait another year before attempting this movie again.

Care Bears – Care Bears can burn in a smiley rainbow fire if I had anything to say about it. Maybe a little harsh, but I find them annoying now. I think I liked them as a very young child, but I can’t remember. If I did, I’d like to take this chance to apologize to my mother for being forced to endure the Care Bear Stare.

Voltron – This was one of my favorites as a kid. (The Voltron with the lions, not the one with the cars.) I still like it, although both Cordy and Mira are unimpressed. Heathens. I’m sure I’ll be able to convince them of the stellar quality of this cartoon someday.

Beakman’s World – This was actually from the nineties, but it was amazing. Beakman was the more guerrilla-style, gross-em-out and keep-em-coming-back-for-more science teacher to Bill Nye’s more straight-laced version. But it worked, and it made science really cool.

Cordy has watched every episode of this now and can tell you how antibodies work and where rain goes when it dries up, as well as several other impressive science facts. The more she watches, the more science she absorbs, and I’m happy to contribute to that addiction.

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So that’s what we’ve been watching lately, and I’m sure it’s just the beginning. After all, there’s still Thundercats. And Gargoyles. And The Dark Crystal. Then all of Star Wars, then all of Harry Potter, then…

What about you? Are there any movies or TV shows from your youth that you’ve exposed or can’t wait to inflict on your kids?

Filed Under: being a mom, memories, pop culture · Tagged:


Sep 21, 2011

Seven

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Seven years ago, on this day, I was introduced to my beautiful daughter, Cordelia, and to motherhood.

OK, she was a little grumpy, too…

She was determined to destroy any pre-planned ideas of how I wanted motherhood to go. I wanted to have a natural labor – she remained in a difficult breech position that required a c-section. I planned to breastfeed – she refused to cooperate and fought me to the bitter end. I dreamed of quiet moments gazing into her little blue eyes or napping together in the afternoons. Instead I was given a colicky baby who cried day and night and forced us to bow to her whims of being in constant motion.

And yet she still charmed me and forced me to fall madly in love with her.

When she was a year old, I thought the worst was behind us. The unhappy baby had been replaced by a smiling, giggly, curious toddler with enormous sapphire blue eyes and the beginnings of golden curls.

 And a talent for stacking Diet Coke cans…

Never did I imagine the struggle we’d endure together two years later through a diagnosis of autism and the uncertainty of what the future would hold for our Amazon Warrior Princess.

Which brings us to today. Seven years old.

When did she grow up & why didn’t I notice?

Cordy is now in first grade and for the first time she’s spending 95% of her school day in a mainstream class. Her teacher tells us she’s adjusting beautifully and is held to the same behavior standards as the rest of the class. She complains that her spelling list each week is too easy and has already befriended the school librarian. We can’t keep her away from books – she has books in her bed, in her backpack, and even at the dining room table.

It’s been a year of big “firsts” for Cordy, too. First attempt at sports. First roller coaster. First real haircut (that wasn’t done by me when she wasn’t paying attention). She even let me paint her fingernails for the first time last week!

Riding Cedar Downs
 Conquering her fears of the unknown at Cedar Point

I don’t think any of the experts that evaluated Cordy at three years old would have imagined that she’d be doing so well now. She has friends, she plays with other kids on the playground at school, and while she is still rigid, demanding, and quirky, she’s learning that she can often get what she wants if she plays along with the social scripts society demands of her, no matter how silly they seem to her.

But seven years old is also scary to me. She’s reaching an age where I can no longer protect her all the time. Kids are going to be mean. The social demands of her peer group will get exponentially harder and social missteps will be judged with more severity. Cordy also wants more freedom, but I’m afraid she’s not ready for that freedom and will only put herself in the path of danger. She’s too trusting and too unaware of her own surroundings to stay safe.

Those same traits that scare me are also some of the best parts of her. Cordy’s innocence and sweetness are unending. She still has that ability to charm everyone just as she did as a baby.

And just like when she was that not-so-tiny eight-pound infant, screaming in my arms, she’s still proving that I have little control over the direction motherhood will take me. I’ll continue to love and protect her the best I can, while she will continue to grow and amaze me in ways I never thought possible.

Happy birthday, Cordy. And thank you for letting us sing happy birthday to you this year, even if you still covered your ears.

Cordy's Seventh Birthday
Filed Under: Cordy, growing up, love ·


Sep 20, 2011

Greener Pastures and the Green-Eyed Monster

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Most days I’m happy to get Mira to preschool as fast as possible, allowing someone else to handle that atomic bundle of four-year-old energy so that I can get some sleep after a long night of work.

But occasionally, when walking the halls of her preschool, I feel a little jealous.

Jealous of the bright-eyed moms talking to each other in the hallway while they sip their coffee, making lunch plans for themselves and their children after class.

Jealous of the moms with the ponytails and workout clothing, taking advantage of their free time to get in a workout and maybe run some errands afterward, but not before relaxing in the sauna first.

Jealous of the moms who stick around to volunteer in the classroom, helping all of the kids with their smocks for finger painting and bringing in a homemade snack for the class.

Mira’s preschool has a large percentage of parents who are, shall we say…affluent. For many, the moms are stay at home moms, or if they do work, it’s only part-time. (I can only assume the dads do some type of Very Important Work that pays well.) These moms have free time that I can only dream of at the moment.

Seeing the other moms breezing through the hallway, not a wrinkle of stress showing, is a stark contrast to me, plodding down the hall half-asleep as Mira pulls me along, stress and exhaustion written all over my face, realizing I forgot (again) to bring in the family photo her teacher has been requesting for weeks.

I stare longingly down the corridor that connects the school to the gym, wishing I had the time and energy to fit in a workout, or that I was awake enough to chat with the other moms and maybe make new friends. Instead, all I can think about is going home to sleep for a few hours before I repeat the cycle of dinner, work, preschool dropoff and sleep again.

But I know jealousy is a tricky little beast. There’s more to the story than what it chooses for me to see. The moms who make life look like a summer vacation could be hiding any number of problems under their Lululemon workout gear and perfectly highlighted hair. There are other working moms leaving their kids behind, too, looking less haggard than me only because they’re just beginning their day instead of ending it. It’s possible they’re looking at the room moms as wistfully as I am, wishing they could be the hero of the pre-K class with homemade oatmeal raisin cookies and storytime instead of giving their child a quick kiss and rushing out the door.

I also realize that my work is what helps provide the needs and many wants for my children. It enables us to have a comfortable house and plenty of food, along with Netflix and toys and more trips out for ice cream than we should probably allow. In this age of recession and the vanishing middle class, we have a lot to be thankful for that many only wish they could have. Some may be jealous of me for being lucky enough to have a job, angry that I would ever complain about my long hours when they would gladly take my position if they could. They’re right – I am amazingly lucky to have the job that I do.

(I should add in that Aaron works just as hard and is just as pinched in his time as well. He’s forced to do more parenting and housework tasks than the average father would ever be asked to take on, but he does so with little complaint while still working full time as well.)

So I try to keep it all in perspective. I may not have lots of free time to spend with my children, but they still have what they need, even if it isn’t always what they want. The majority of my limited free time is spent with my family, focusing on the quality of our time together when the quantity is lacking. My daughters know how much I love them, even if I can’t always remember to turn in permission slips on time and have to put together mismatched outfits because I didn’t do the laundry last night. It may not be the most ideal arrangement for our family, but for the moment it works.

Although every so often, I stare across the fence at that pasture on the other side, and for a moment I lament that my side isn’t as green.

Filed Under: being a mom, daily life, family time, money, the J-O-B ·


Sep 19, 2011

A Success (Sort Of)

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So early last week, my husband reminded me that the March of Dimes Night Moves 5K was approaching at the end of the week. And that he had signed us both up for it.
Wow, September 16 sure arrived quickly.
I had forgotten about it. I knew Aaron was training for the 5K, and I had agreed to sign up for it, too, but then life and work and my need for sleep got in the way and I put it out of my mind. So as Friday approached I realized that I wasn’t ready for this at all. I haven’t put on my running shoes since before BlogHer. I haven’t even done any kind of workout in a few weeks. In short: I was going to suck at this.
The day of the event was even worse. In a pure fit of denial, I only took a 2 hour nap after getting home from working all night and then decided I wanted to stay up for the afternoon so I could get some house cleaning done. Again, I forgot about that 5K we were doing that night.
Finally it was 5pm and Aaron went upstairs to change into his running shorts. Oh yeah, we’re supposed to go to a 5K, aren’t we? I trudged upstairs, still tired from a lack of sleep, and pulled on some workout gear. It didn’t help that it was supposed to be cold that night – do I dress warm, or will I be too warm?
At the race, I still wasn’t feeling it. Aaron planned to run the entire way, and I was ready to cheer him on. But I was doubting my own contributions to the run. I decided I would run/walk the race, probably with a strong emphasis on walking. This was the same 5K where I ran the entire thing last year – I was fully prepared to be disappointed with myself this time.
Blurry photo of us – it was already getting dark and cold.
The bell sounded and the pack took off. It was chilly out at this point so I decided running would be the best way to start, if for no other reason than to keep warm. I ran for about a half mile before I needed to slow to a walk. Two minutes later I felt good enough to run again, but my stamina was quickly fading. I passed the one mile mark and was surprised that I had a 14 minute mile.

The second mile was even more walking, with occasional urges to vomit when I did run. My side ached so I tried to take it easy and focus on my breathing. I passed the second mile marker and again had another 14 minute mile. How was that even possible?

I was determined to not just walk the final mile and a bit, but I had practically no energy left. I used a section of road that sloped downward as one stretch of running, allowed the lack of incline to work to my advantage. And then with the end in sight I ran the final block, crossing the finish line with a time just over 44 minutes.

Aaron found me in the crowd, and I had to grab his arm to keep from falling over. One Gatorade later and I felt a little less wobbly, although still very exhausted.

(Aaron ran the entire race in under 28 minutes – go him!)

At the time, I thought I was less than a minute off from my time last year. I looked back through this blog, though, and realized I was actually three minutes slower than my time last year.

But still…only three minutes slower than last year, where I ran the entire race, and when I had prepared for it and got plenty of sleep beforehand and actually remembered the damn race? Not bad.

Of course, this does nothing for my motivation. After all, if I can run/walk a 5K with 2 hours of sleep and no training or preparation ahead of time and STILL only be three minutes off of my running time, why bother training?

Just kidding.

Well, mostly.

I was proud of myself for finishing, even with everything going against me. It’s good to know that even without working out for a few weeks, my body hasn’t forgotten everything I’ve been trying to teach it. And maybe I will start pushing myself to run again so I can shave a few minutes off of my next 5K.

Although at the moment I’m dealing with the one downside to taking on a 5K with no training: I can’t move my legs. I don’t think my legs and hips have ever hurt this much. Lesson learned.

Filed Under: running, success ·


Sep 14, 2011

First Grade Homework Is Killing Me

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I knew that with the start of first grade, homework wasn’t far behind. I’ve seen other parents on Facebook and Twitter talking about how young they start kids with homework now, so I was prepared. When the homework folder arrived in Cordy’s backpack for the first time, I turned off the TV and sat at the table with Cordy to help her complete her homework. It took about 20 minutes for her to do all of the worksheets, which seemed like a lot of time to devote to homework each night for a six year old.

And then I found out that was her homework for the entire week. Oops. Ah well, at least she had several days off from doing homework, right?

This week, though, one of her worksheets stumped me. I knew that someday she’d ask for help with homework and I’d be unable to help because I would have forgotten advanced algebra or the process of photosynthesis because they just aren’t practical in my everyday life and my brain cells needed room for more important things, like the bajillion passwords I have to remember for every online account or the lyrics of Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night. I never thought I’d be unable to answer a question about first grade grammar.

The worksheet had several sentences on it, with the instruction, “Write the naming part of the sentence below each sentence.”

Wait – the “naming part” of a sentence? WTF?

“Uh, Cordy, I’m not exactly sure what you’re supposed to do for this worksheet,” I explained. “Do you know what the naming part of a sentence is?”

“No, mommy. I don’t know.”

Well…great.

I turned to Twitter, where I was mostly met with silence and the one suggestion that maybe it was the noun in the sentence. Apparently most of Twitter has forgotten their first grade grammar as well, which made me feel a little better. Unity in cluelessness.

I then turned to the all-knowing Google, where 90% of the links agreed that the “naming part” of the sentence is its subject. 

Obvious response: so why not call it the SUBJECT then?

Dear textbook editors: I understand that writing new versions of the same, dry material can be boring. But syntax naming is not an area for you to flex your creative muscle in order to freshen up the lesson. You’re confusing the hell out of us parents and making us look like we couldn’t pass a basic elementary school standardized test. Also? What’s wrong with “subject?” The “naming part” just sounds babyish. Stop dumbing down my kid’s lessons!

I’m sure this won’t be the last I see of these changes, but I really hope I’ll be able to translate her homework in the future. Next thing you know she’ll have to find the “doing-stuff part” of the sentence.

(OMG, please don’t let that be on next week’s homework or I swear I’ll homeschool her with my 1980’s curriculum, when we actually had to know the real names of the parts of a sentence. And use non-safety scissors to cut things. And walk uphill in the snow to school. Both ways.)

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Filed Under: being a mom, Cordy, pop culture, school ·