My Favorite Picture Book

Have you read Emily Winfield Martin’s Dream Animals? I was so excited when I saw it in stores. I became a fan of Emily’s art through her Etsy shop, where I bought a print for my kids’ play area. All her art is so gorgeous, and the pages of Dream Animals are just captivating. The girl loves to read it at bedtime, pointing out all the animals she knows (and some she can’t name yet–if she doesn’t know it, she just says, “Doggy!”). There’s something soothing about the colors and soft lines that helps us get all cuddly before laying our sleepy noggins down. It’s so much more beautiful than any other book in our collection. Definitely my new favorite.

Random Thoughts While Watching TV with my Kids

Super cute, but they were probably only sitting together so they could both watch something on the computer. (I keep waiting, but I have not yet received my Mother of the Year award…)

Paw Patrol:

The inside of Mayor Goodway’s purse must be filthy.

What is the population of Adventure Bay? 16?

Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood:

X the Owl and Henrietta Pussycat are totally an item, even if their treehouse is a duplex. I’ve argued with other moms about this. There might not be any supporting evidence, but neither is there anything to disprove it. Though I’m sure there are episodes I haven’t seen.

Clifford the Big Red Dog:

How big are those poops? And how does one dispose of them?

Where does one acquire barrels of Clifford-sized dog treats? And how do the Howards afford them, especially on top of the mansion-sized dog house and park-sized backyard?

Masha and the Bear

I love this show. Also funny: the boy calls her “Marsha” and the girl runs around saying “Masha, Masha, Masha!” which totally gives me Brady Bunch flashbacks. (No, I’m not that old. But I’ve always loved Nick at Nite.)

The Great British Baking Show

Such relief that my kids like something I like.

Am I making my kids food-obsessed?

Am I building the foundation for childhood obesity?

Is it not the most adorable thing in the world to have two small children ask to watch “baking” or “Momma’s baking show” rather than plaguing me with Power Rangers, modern-day Ninja Turtles, and similar?

Any of the Winnie the Pooh movies

Why did I introduce them to this?

Didn’t I used to like Pooh?

How can one watch the first thirty minutes of the same movie six thousand times and not give a thought to the ending?

 

 

March Reading List

I did NOT make it through the books I wanted to read in March. Mainly because I got really mired down in Michael Chabon’s Telegraph Avenue. It’s dense, complex, lyrical, and contains a cast of thousands–I guess my brain is no longer strong enough to keep up with that kind of thing. I actually gave up on it yesterday (I’ll come back to it some other time, I’m sure–but I’ll probably have to start over) and decided to aim a little lower in March. So I’m only scheduling three books this month, the first of which I’d really hoped to read in February, which is:

After that, I’ll go a little bit lighter and read:

And then end the month with the skinniest book in my library, the movie of which I have seen countless times (and from which comes the title of this blog–ten points if you remember which scene), and have been meaning to read for years and years and years:

The Secret of Parenting is Elmo

There are three things my daughter needs to fall asleep at night: some milk, some lullabies, and Elmo. When I want to work on the computer and she’s awake (like right now) I open my browser on one side of the screen; on the other side, I play a collection of Elmo’s songs on YouTube. When I want to get her into the car seat and she’s not into it, I sing “La La La La! La La La La! Elmo’s song!” (or Violet’s song, or Josie’s song, or puppy’s song–she calls out a name and I sub it in). This song actually has a calming effect in any situation, as does Adam Sandler’s “Song About Elmo,” which is also a favorite of the boy’s, since he likes to supply the rhyming words. He also likes to quack along with “Elmo’s Ducks.”

Elmo is a fairly recent discovery in our house. The boy never really got into him until the girl did, but still, when he was a baby and would cry in the car, I’d do an Elmo-esque voice and darned if it didn’t calm him down. Something about that high pitch seems to resonate in little ears and little hearts.

Maybe you think he’s annoying. Maybe you think he’s over-merchandised. Whatever. He’s baby tranquilizer, but chemical-free! Totally safe! 100% legal!

From the Ashes

Today is Ash Wednesday. Though I’ve always known about it–it’s the first day of Lent–none of the churches I’ve attended really observed it, so I had to look up its meaning. I still don’t feel like I fully get it, though I understand the symbolism of Lent and its small-scale mirroring Jesus’s forty days in the desert. Observers of Lent give something up, usually a bad habit. I’ve known people who give up chocolate, soda, and meat. I’ve known non-religious people who give up something for Lent just for the heck of it–like a reboot of their New Year’s Resolutions. Mostly, these things are not relinquished to emulate Jesus’s suffering, as seems to be intended, but to make their lives in some way better, thus contradicting the whole “you are dust and to dust you shall return” ash sprinkling ritual that kicks the whole thing off. Yes, you might suffer without chocolate, soda, or meat, but you will also gain some nice benefits. I have never known anyone who has (successfully) given up something really inconvenient for Lent, meant to make their lives harder and thus force them to reflect on the suffering of their savior. I can think of a few good ideas. Give up your car. Give up the Internet. Still, I guess those things could make your life better by saving you money, making you walk more, forcing you into social media detox. So stop using your dishwasher or you washing machine. Give up date nights or time with your friends.

Actually–no. Don’t do that. Give up chocolate. I mean, if you want to do the whole self-flagellation thing that’s your prerogative. And as I said, having grown up in evangelical/”non-denominational” churches–the ones with the neon crosses and rock ‘n’ roll worship that tend to take over strip malls–and since I’m currently not a church-goer at all, this is not my holiday. I totally agree that we are dust and to dust we shall return, but maybe on a different level–we are from the earth, we are of the earth; we are carbon-based. We will die and decay. But it might be more accurate to say we are akin to dust, or that we rise from it. Which, on Ash Wednesday, naturally makes me think of the myth of the phoenix.

Okay, maybe it’s a leap. But it coincides with my life rather nicely. You see, I have been having a hard time lately. I’ve been eating horribly, sleeping horribly (baby was never a great sleeper and now she’s going through a regression), and because of these two things I have not felt well enough to exercise. I’ve been dealing with weaning hormones. It’s winter. It would not be too big a metaphorical stretch to say that the woman I was just six months ago caught fire and burned to the ground.

But: today I rise. I’m not giving anything up for Lent; I’m taking things on. Healthy food, exercise, work ethic, housekeeping. I’m doing everything I can to build myself back up again. To that effect, you can look forward to quite a few posts on the subject, including self-challenges with notes on what worked and what didn’t. And if you catch me going off course, getting too negative in my focus, please remind me: the initial effect might be suffering, but the ultimate goal is joy.