Saturday, November 20, 2010
While I was standing in line at Target trying to convince Cohen that playing with his crackle book would be just as much fun as chewing on the economy size bag of cat food I noticed this among all the smut rags. For those of you who don't know, I am a HUGE fan of classic films and their players. I collect biographies on Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, Jean Harlow, Betty Grable, Sidney Poitier, just to name a few. I have yet to come across someone who shares this passion, or at least someone who doesn't also remember the Great Depression or the signing of the Declaration of Independence. While most kids my age had a crush on Jesse from Full House or Devon Sawa I preferred Cary Grant and Gene Kelly who seemed much more sophisticated albeit dead.
I purchased this Vanity Fair without hesitation.
I love how over 45 years after her death Marilyn can grace the cover of a coveted fashion periodical and still hold her own among the new, younger, and more current faces of today. Even in her films Marilyn had a way of inadvertently drawing the audience to her, even when other actresses, equally dazzling on their own shared a scene with her, they always seemed less graceful, less vibrant, almost dowdy. I have over a dozen books on Ms. Monroe and her story, all varieties of it, never ceases to fascinate me. Although I have a tendency to lean more toward the idea that she was less of a selfish, drug-addled, mental case and more of an innocent, dreamy, individual who struggled to leave a painful and abusive past behind her. This article is based on the release of a new book, Fragments by Stanley Buchthal and Bernard Comment, which includes exerts from Marilyn's personal diaries and journals.
This book currently tops my Christmas Wish List.
Posted by Barstow at 6:44 AM
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Another month down and, at the risk of sounding like a repetitive bore, you just keep getting more and more wonderful! This past month you have fallen into a REAL schedule, no more wondering if and when you were going to cry through that afternoon nap or if you'd wake up at 4 am or 8 am and it was WORK, boy. Several people told me about getting you on a schedule, people who are parents themselves, decent parents at that, and I thought that was something I could do around, oh, week TWO. HA! What a silly, brainless mama I was. So, months went by, and there was a lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth, mostly mine, and it seemed like we would never make progress, or you'd have one good day out of a dozen and I would just start feel the tension give a little and then you'd be back at it, just being an ornery baby that couldn't be bothered with something as simple as a schedule. Now we've finally turned a corner and I am SO utterly relieved. Phew!
I fully expected your first teeth to come in this past month but they've been MIA, which doesn't do anything to explain all the drool and gnawing on any and every surface within an inch of your face. And size is no deterrent, be it a cheerio or a couch, you show no prejudice when it comes to chewable objects. I started making your food a little more "texture-y" just to coax those little incisors to push their way through. We're still waiting.
When I picked you up from your Nana's a few days ago you were sporting a rather impressive black eye and it turns out you had a run-in with a very hard, plastic, toy. Why do they do that, those toy companies, make a baby's toy out of the hardest surface on the planet? So, of course, while you were sitting there minding your own business and your head just got a little too heavy and pitched you forward, you smacked it. I was horrified at first, my precious babe, swollen and bruised but then I figured, "That's life" and it didn't even require a trip to the ER. Two bonus points for you! It only took about 3 days for the bruising to go away just in time for you to beam yourself in the face with your musical maraca. Oh, the wonder of boys!
You've started having these massive poops and I know it must have to do with the change in your diet, all those solid foods and whatnot. It wouldn't be so bad, really, if you didn't have them at the most inconvenient times. I went to visit a friend who owns a lovely card shop and the moment we parked I knew something was amiss. So, I thought I'd do a quick change in the back seat until I noticed that your bowel movement had blown up your back into your hair. Being prepared, like a good mama, I had a spare change of clothes and fresh diapers but I've never had to do a full "Clark Kent to Superman" on you in the back seat of a Passat and since you've gotten so mobile it's more like dressing a giant squid covered in vaseline. You are THAT squirmy, rolling over, refusing to bend arms, legs, or torso, grabbing my face, chewing my shoulder, throwing your head back to look at what?! the sky? the ceiling upholstery? the historic bungalow being renovated? etc. I was finally able to strip you down to just the skin you were born in, gave you a quick "wipe" bath, attach a dry, poop-free diaper to you're person, and get you dressed like a proper baby! I was so proud, sure it took a half hour, but we did it. I felt like Super Mama. So we went for our visit and you chewed on paper and were charming in every way possible and it wasn't until we were headed back to the car that I noticed you still had a bit of poo dried to your forehead. Minus four points for me.
You are on the VERGE of crawling. You've got the "Rocking on All Fours" down and you occasionally get very zealous in your rocking and you'll pitch forward onto your face and lay there for a few seconds before pushing yourself up and doing it all over again. I started taking you the play area at Cherry Creek Mall because the flooring is wonderful, like walking on marshmallows and I figured it would be a great place to practice your mobility. Except, it's always packed with a million screaming kids. And in spite of the height restriction there's always a group of prepubescent Neanderthals lurching around without any consideration for the tiny baby's underfoot. So, I hover around you at all times, creating a little bubble of safety for you to pick at the loops in the carpet in peace.
Lincoln, the other baby who kept you company at Nana's, moved back to Kentucky with his parents and I've been trying to think of ways to keep you socialized. I discovered our local library has a Story Time just for babies but unfortunately we have yet to make it since it's at a rather inconvenient time, smack in the middle of your morning nap. I certainly am not about to wake you up. I know you love all the activity and noise at the Cherry Creek play area and there is just so much to look at but it's a bit of drive. Hopefully, your Nana finds another little baby to keep you company. A baby smaller than Lincoln, preferrably, that kid was GIANT and he was only a few weeks older than you. That couldn't have been good for your self esteem.
We celebrated your first Halloween last month and you went as the most adorable three-eyed monster there ever was. We paraded you around the mall and took you to my company costume BBQ but we didn't feel right about banging on people's doors and demanding candy for a baby that doesn't have a tooth and eats food pureed to a paste. We'll save that for next year. You were very interested in the pumpkins we carved and kept reaching for all knives and saw-like utensils. You even stayed up an hour past your bedtime to share in all the festivity. Of course we paid for it dearly the next day but it was worth it. I'm always fascinated when I see baby's out and about any time past 7 pm just because I don't think you are physically capable of being awake that long. EVER. I don't mind so much that you sleep more than a cat because I'd rather have you awake for 2 hours, bouncing, bubbly, and squealing then the alternative, which is you turning into a gremlin that tries to claw out my eyes. I know it won't last forever and it's just one of many adjustments I have had to make since you came into our lives.
You have recently become very aware and curious of the world around you and I love watching you take in everything for the first time. Like when I set you down in the leaves and you picked them up one by one, crunching them between your fingers, tasting them, waving them high, then low. You spent the better part of a half hour mesmerized with all the colors, textures, smells, and sounds around you and I thought my heart would burst with love. There is nothing in this world that can prepare you for the trials and challenges of being a parent but there is also nothing that can prepare you for the joy and love either. Thanks for making every day so extra special.