(Here comes another messy post. This is such a hard topic to wrap my head around, so bear with me.)

Her Bad Mother had a beautiful post about the intense physical love she feels for her daughter, and asked if others feel this way also.

I have two takes on this, from the position of a daughter and from the position of a mother.

My mother’s family is what you might call “cold” upon first meeting them. Everyone is very nice, very pleasant to talk to, but there is a noticeable lack of emotion. We can carry on intelligent, engaging conversations, but at the end of the day, little is said about love, about emotional bonds, or about caring for others in our family. “I love you” is never spoken, and hugs are not exchanged. Love is something that is just understood – it is not expressed. And emotions are considered, especially by my grandmother, as something to deal with and force down, and not something to wear on your sleeve for all to see.

Somehow, I did not get the same genetic make-up that everyone else had. My mother and her sisters are like this, my grandmother is like this, and yet I was not. I was gifted with the intense, passionate emotion from my father’s side of the family, a family of people who love and hate with a fire that is hard to extinguish (gotta love Irish passion). They hug, they kiss, they express their feelings openly and without fear of those feelings being dismissed.

But I was raised by my mother and her family, and so I often found myself conflicted. I wanted to be hugged, I wanted to be told I was loved, but I was raised with a hands-off approach. I watched other kids having warm, loving moments with their parents, wondering why my mother and I didn’t behave that way as well. I knew she loved me – at least, my logical side assumed she loved me since she did so much for me. But any physical affection and touch was lacking.

However, the nurture side of the equation came into play also, so that when anyone did hug me, I felt awkward and embarrassed. I felt like it should be OK, but it wasn’t done in my family, and so it was foreign to me. Add in being molested as a child by a high school boy, and you’ve got a confusing message about touching others in a loving way. When my teen years came along, I was a ticking bomb of emotion, sometimes going off loudly, other times withdrawn and quiet. My poor mother didn’t know what to do with me – I was practically screaming for her to hug me, touch me, or show me that she loved me in some way, but would then dismiss any attempts she made. The physical aspects of love were short-circuited between us.

Once I was in college, the raging hormones of puberty behind me, my mother and I reached common ground. She realized that she had always been distant, because that was the way she was raised. She confessed to me that she never wanted to be so cold, but didn’t know any other way, since it felt so unnatural to her to want to hug me, stroke my hair, or touch me in any way. My teen years made it clear to her that I was not like her or others in our family, and that I needed more, and now that I was an adult we were able to discuss it openly.

To this day she’s still only told me once that she loves me (when I was getting ready to board a plane to go to England for a summer), but she does routinely hug me goodbye each week, and she tries to be affectionate with Cordy as well. I know she’s trying, and I can only imagine how hard the struggle must be between her natural feelings of motherhood and her upbringing.

For me, the first moment I saw Cordy, I had every intention of smothering her in love. I wanted to hold her little body close to mine, kiss her tiny hands and feet, and make sure that she realized every single day how loved she is. I was ready to break with the tradition of being physically aloof from a child.

There was just one snag: Cordy seems to have picked up the family trait.

As much as it pains me to acknowledge, Cordelia was not and still is not a cuddly child. As a baby she enjoyed being held in a sling, but didn’t care much for being touched. Any attempts at a kiss were met with a turn of the head or resistance. Trying to snuggle her resulted in her making her body rigid and pushing away with a cry. She rarely fell asleep on my chest – she was much more interested in pushing her head up and looking around.

The thought of having a child I couldn’t cuddle made me sick with depression. It felt like a big, black hole in my core: here is this child that was grown inside of me, and is half of my biological make-up, and now this part of me is outside of my body, but I can’t love it the way I want to.

Somewhere around 16 months, though, she learned a new game. The “beeeeah” game, which is essentially the hugging game. She would walk back and forth to Aaron and I, collapsing into each of us and saying “beeeah” as she sort-of hugged us, and then walking to the other person and repeating it. I don’t think I could have been happier, even if she had spontaneously said”I love you, mommy.”

While she still doesn’t like to be kissed or hugged that much, when it is on her own terms she will allow it. And right now, I’ll take what I can get, while slowly pushing for a little more affection as time goes by. After all, this period of life goes by so quickly. It won’t be long before she’s a teenager full of hormones and emotion, and I’d like to lay the groundwork for our physical love now and get in all the hugs I can before she reaches the point where she is embarrassed of me.

This morning:

(I walk into the kitchen. Cordy comes running after me.)

Cordy: Muuuuk! Muk! I nee muk! I nee muk!

(Note: this is her pleading, whiny, clearly-I’m-dying voice)

Me: Sorry Cordy, you’re not getting milk.

Cordy: I nee muk!

Me: (pouring a sippy cup for her) No, Cordy. You’re getting juice.

Cordy: (pause, as she thinks) Juisse?

Me: Yes, juice.

Cordy: Juisse! I nee juisse! I nee juisse!

Me: (handing her the sippy cup) Way to re-prioritize on the fly, baby.

Seriously, how did the human race survive before the invention of cell phones? It astounds me how many people have one permanently affixed to their ears nowadays.

Earlier this week, I was waiting in line at a drive thru, and when the person ahead of me pulled up to place her order, she actually told the person working at McDonald’s to hold on, while she finished telling whoever was on the other end of the phone about the guy she met last night. I know this because she was talking so loud I couldn’t help but hear her conversation. She finally placed her order, but even when paying and picking up her food, the cell phone never left her ear.

I’ve even had students in my office take phone calls during an advising session. Most tell the other person they’ll call them back, but some don’t care that they’re sitting in my office, and carry on five minute or longer conversations. The worst person I met got calls three times during our 45 min. meeting, and talked to each one of them.

When I was flying to and from BlogHer, I was amazed that now they announce, at the exact moment the plane touches down, that you’re now allowed to turn on and use your cell phones. It’s been 10 years since I flew, and in 1996 people weren’t going through cell phone withdrawal on a two hour flight. Or an eight hour flight, for that matter. But now, as soon as the message is given, the sounds of cell phones powering up is heard, and seconds later half of the people are chatting away with someone not on the plane. (Aside from the idiots in front of me, on the way back to Columbus, who took the time to call their friends who were sitting 10 rows ahead of them to ask about dinner plans.)

I won’t even begin to talk about the people who answer their cell phones and talk while using the facilities in a public restroom. Or the fact that kids as young as six are now carrying the damn things around like some elementary school status symbol.

What conversations are so important that they can be conducted while meeting with someone or while in the bathroom? Personally, were I on the other end of the line and heard the distinctive sound of tinkling, I would ask if I could call them back.

Cell phones are also completely erasing any notice of the world around you. I see so many people in public places yaking away on their phones, oblivious to anything around them. There are people who nearly get hit by cars crossing the street because they’re not paying attention. And what happened to talking to other people around you? Cell phones erase the need to ever make small talk, or get to know the people you’re waiting in line with, or to speak with any stranger ever.

Forget the internet – I think cell phones are causing us to become more isolated than ever. The phone is programmed with the numbers of our friends and family, ready to talk to at a moment’s notice. The phone makes it possible to never be apart from those you are closest to, because cell phones are allowed nearly everywhere you go. At least on the internet we can meet new people.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I love my cell phone. It is a convenience that I enjoy having. I like being able to change plans on the fly and let everyone know, or let Aaron know when I will be late getting home, or ask if I should pick up dinner on the way. But I think that many people use their phones way too much, and in owning a cell phone, they have completely forgotten all rules of etiquette. I simply can’t understand why someone would want to be constantly talking to their friends day and night. Wouldn’t you run out of things to say? Don’t you ever get tired of talking and just want to listen to the radio or enjoy some silence?

And I can’t see giving Cordy a cell phone anytime soon. And if we were to give her one before she’s a teen, it would be one of those Firefly phones that would only let her call the people we’ve programmed in, and it would have a very limited number of minutes. She doesn’t need a phone to stay in touch with her friends 24/7.

The truth is, we did manage to survive before the invention of the cell phone. As a kid, I spent many summer afternoons running all over the neighborhood. I didn’t have a cell phone, and yet my mom still managed to know where I was. How? I checked in with her, either by stopping back by the house, or calling her from a friend’s house. If I was really desperate, I usually had a quarter and could use a pay phone to call her. If I needed to come home early from the public pool, I would either call my mom on the pay phone, walk home, or suck it up and wait for her to come get me at the arranged time. And instead of talking to my friends on the phone all day, I’d go over and spend time with them. My relationships with my mom and my friends did not suffer due to a lack of a cell phone.

One more thing: those new Bluetooth wireless headsets? Not only are they annoying (if you’re on the other side, you’d think the person was talking to you or just insane), but they’re ugly, too. Looking at the piece of plastic and metal sticking out of someone’s ear makes me want to go up to these cyborgs and say, “Are you a Borg? Have you been assimilated?” You don’t look cool – you look dumb, and if I don’t see the headset, I often wonder if you’ve escaped the mental hospital as you talk to yourself.

If you’re a cell phone addict, I give you this challenge: during one of the times you’re on the phone just because it’s something to do to keep you from being bored, or having to acknowledge the people around you, don’t use it. Yes, turn it off and keep it stored away. Just once, enjoy the silence, or listen to your radio in the car, or say hi to someone around you as you wait for the bus. Take the time to notice the world around you. Your friends and family will still be accessible half an hour later.

Last night the Wiggles were in Columbus, and Aaron and I took Cordy to see her favorite boy band. We went to the show last year, also, when Cordy was just 11 months old, but we figured she would probably have more fun this year.

During the morning we got her psyched up for the show. “Cordy, tonight you get to see the Wiggles!” “Weee-gils!” she’d exclaim in return. She spent the day with my friend L. and her son B., and then we all met up at Nationwide Arena for the concert.

The concert was fantastic! Once again, we had seats fairly close to the stage on the left hand side. The place was packed with exasperated parents and overexcited toddlers and preschoolers. Cordy wanted to climb up and down the arena stairs, so we had to sandwich her in between us to keep her from disappearing.

Practicing her Captain Feathersword “Arrrrr!”

If you’ve never been to a Wiggles concert before, I have to tell you, it’s worth the ticket price for the show. It’s clear these guys really love kids. In a 15,000 person arena, they do as much as possible to make sure that every kid feels like they got a little special treatment.

At one point, they were pointing to and reading homemade signs in the audience, thanking the children for their signs and drawings. They also asked who was celebrating a birthday that day, and mentioned 7 kids and one adult by name when singing Happy Birthday.

Everyone but Greg (who is the lead singer) goes out into the audience at some point, even going way up into the cheap seats to collect drawings, roses for Dorothy the Dinosaur, and bones for Wags the Dog. They donate all of the flowers to the local children’s hospital after the show, and all of the bones collected go to the local dog pound. They never refuse a picture.

I’m proud to say that this year we managed to get all four of them to make eye contact and wave at us at some point during the show. Cordy started to get tired about halfway through the show, and while I was waving to Jeff (the sleepy, purple Wiggle), he waved back, and noticed that Cordy wasn’t waving (I was trying to get her to wave to him). I picked up her hand and waved it for her, and he got a big laugh from it.

And they don’t disappoint the parents, either. Murray at one point told the crowd he needed to tune his guitar, and without any fanfare started playing “Stairway to Heaven” as his warm-up, prompting laughter and applause from the parents.

Oh, and for the moms out there who think Anthony is hot? Ladies, I got to touch the man. Seriously. We had a rose left over by accident (yes, by accident, I swear!), and when he came over to our section to collect bones for Wags, I handed him the rose, joking that we thought Wags deserved roses as well. I can now say, conclusively, he’s just as good looking and sweet up close.

Cordelia liked seeing her heroes, although just like last year we had trouble getting her to watch the show. There are large video screens on either side of the stage, and she generally preferred to watch the video screens. Apparently telling Cordy that we’re going to see the Wiggles tonight translates to watching a video to her. We had to keep turning her head and telling her, “No, Cordy, you don’t need to watch them on TV. Look, they’re right in front of you!“ It’s like she had trouble accepting they could be right there, in the flesh.

We did learn that Halloween may be a little troublesome this year. At one point, the backup dancers came out dressed as animals (a monkey, an elephant, and a tiger), and Cordy freaked out when she saw them. She wasn’t scared of anything else in the show, but the large animals dancing around on stage sent her burrowing her face into my chest with a wail.

Not only was she tired, but the tooth she’s cutting at the moment is giving her hell. At one point I looked in her mouth, and the tissue around the tooth was bloody. No wonder she was in such a grumpy mood.

We couldn’t leave without souvenirs, of course. The wait to buy them, however, was obscene. When I finally got to the front of the line, I asked for a white t-shirt in an extra small, only to be told small was the smallest size they had in any of the t-shirts. A small is a child’s 6-7. I looked at the woman behind the counter and said, “You do realize toddlers and preschoolers are the target demographic, right?” She gave me a helpless look and replied that they no longer had any of the smaller sizes. I made the suggestion that perhaps they need to carry fewer large sizes and more smaller sizes. So we got a small t-shirt (or nightshirt, depending on how you look at it right now), and a Captain Feathersword hat.

When we got home, Cordy didn’t fight the bedtime routine at all. She let us change her into her PJs, grabbed Blue, and stood in front of the stairs, waiting for me to take her up to bed. I know she probably won’t remember the show, but I’m glad the Wiggles put on such a fun, entertaining show for all of us.

OK, so I’m a day late to the party, but yesterday kicked off the 37th season of Sesame Street, and the Lovely Mrs. Davis threw a blog party to celebrate the kick off. The big party game was to answer this question: What television, music, movie, or book from your childhood are you excited about sharing with your own children?

I had to think about this for awhile. There is so much from when I was younger that I still hang on to.

First, I’d have to say the Choose Your Own Adventure books. Aaron still has a large collection of them, and as a kid I checked every single one of them out of our library. Back before kids books were interactive with flashing lights and music (for the record, I hate those awful things), the Choose Your Own Adventure books were the first interactive books. You got to actually take part in shaping the story!

For those who never read them, it generally involved a page or two of text, followed by a question. Usually the heroes were stuck choosing what direction to go next, and the bottom of the page would read, “If the heroes turn left, go to page 53. If the heroes turn right, go to page 22.” One choice was always the better choice over the other, and the story had different endings depending on the choices you made.

I would read these books over and over, selecting different choices each time to see how it would affect the outcome. Sometimes I’d flip to a page and just take a peek to see if it would lead to certain doom – if so, I’d choose the other option. Yes, that was cheating. But these books made me feel like I had some say in the story, and to a child, having a little control over something is a special treat.

Next, I intend for my daughter to watch The Last Unicorn. I still have strong memories of watching this amazing animated movie as a child! Sure, there’s a little bit of language in it, and the animation is crude, but the story is full of so much emotion and beauty. Plus, the cast of characters is one you’ll never find in today’s sanitized children’s movies: Mommy Fortuna, the mad witch, Schmendrick, the young (and bumbling) magician, the outspoken Molly Grue, and the scary old King Haggard.

The story involves a unicorn, the last of her kind, leaving her forest to find out what happened to the others. Along the way, she learns a hard lesson that the rest of the world is not a safe place. She meets Schmendrick along the way, and they find their way to King Haggard, but not before Schmendrick accidentally transforms her into a human.

They discover that the king has used his fierce Red Bull (before the energy drink, people) to capture all the other unicorns and drive them into the sea, so that their beauty may be viewed by the king alone. While in her human form, the unicorn meets the king’s son, Prince Lir, and the two fall in love.

However, the king soon discovers she’s a unicorn and sends his bull to capture her. She is transformed into a unicorn again so that she can defend herself, but she now wants to remain a human and refuses to fight back. The prince is killed when he tries to defend her, and his death prompts her to fight back and drive the bull into the sea, freeing the other unicorns. However, she is now different from all of them, for no unicorn has ever felt love or regret, and she now carries both with her.

My retelling does the story a disservice, so if you’ve never seen it, I encourage you to watch this movie. It’s just as entertaining for adults as well.

Since this post is getting long, I’ll throw in at the end other things from my childhood that I plan to share with Cordelia and any other children we may have: the Muppets (of course), School House Rock, the movies The Last Starfighter and Explorers, Animaniacs (sure, it was my teen years, but they’re a must-have!), and Sailor Moon (also teen years, but originally made in the 80’s in Japan).