Singer/ Songwriter

Toe loves to play guitar with his daddy, so it was only a matter of time. Today he wrote his first song. It involved strumming with no chords and singing with the pacifier in his mouth. The verse (sung with great feeling) is, "Mustang car. Mustang car. Mustang car." The chorus is also, "Mustang car. Mustang car." J. made a little chord progression to go with it and it actually sounds pretty sweet. I am sure it will top the charts.

Mom's lesson from this experience: if you love something and have a vision (or even an urge), do it. People will join in and make the vision even better.

Two quick anecdotes

1. Toe asked J. the other day what he meant when he said, "Punch it, Chewie!" J. explained that it was from Star Wars and the guy (Han Solo) said it when he wanted his co-pilot (Chewbacca) to go fast. They then went out on a few errands. After one, J. got involved in a conversation on his cell phone and they sat in the unmoving car for several minutes (no cell phone talking while driving). When J. got off the phone and started up the car, Toe said, "Chew it, Pokey!"

2. Apparently Toe is now a Billy Goat. Every time I refer to him as a boy, he corrects me. "You mean, Billy Goat." To make matters stranger, his father is a "Daddy Billy Goat," but somehow I am a "Mama seal." This has been going on for weeks, now with no changes. Occasionally he pretends to be a kitty-cat. A Billy Goat pretending to be a kitty, not a boy pretending to be a kitty. I find myself saying, "Come on, little Billy Goat," in the grocery store.

Important First

We have been to the aquarium many times before and Toe has shown an active interest in the seals, but he has never seemed interested in feeding them. He mostly likes watching from the end of the tank, away from the bustle and splashing.

And Toe has fed fish in the back many times. In fact, when he walks into the aquarium now, he says, "Let's go feed the fish," to whomever is standing closest. He REALLY enjoys doing this.

So today, for the first time, Toe elected to feed the seals. He had a blast. The seals all were very excited and performing as much as I have ever seen them perform. Toe, in turn, laughed and slapped his side and encouraged them like crazy. It was a wonderful sight. I'm not sure who had the most fun, Toe, his proud papa, or his mom taking the photos.


For the seals it was just another day at the office, but they got some fish out of it, so I think it was considered a win for them too.

Broadening Whose Horizons?

There was a hot rod show at the coast this weekend, and of course we were there. We went in the morning to check out the cars, and again in the afternoon to watch the cruise, or as Toe calls it, the "car parade." I am finding I have a much greater interest in cars in general now that I have a boy who so passionately loves them. I found myself commenting on bumpers, chrome, engines, models, and other details. I'm no afficianado by any stretch of the imagination, but I actually have an appreciation now, which is something.

Toe, of course, was in heaven.

One of his favorites turned out to be a really old Honda owned by a friend of ours. It was not part of the car show, but the appeal was that it was Toe's size.

One of my favorites was a 1920's style pick up truck where the bed of the pick up lifted like a dump truck. Very stylish, but very functional.

During the "car parade," Toe gave a running commentary along with lots of car noises. We both had a blast. As you can see, Piglet joined us. Apparently Piglet loves cars too.

To Toe, these older cars come in a variety of categories defined by the movie Cars.
There are "Lizzie cars," (anything that looks remotely like a 1920's roadster or Model T) "Flo cars," (1950's- ish, especially the Bel Airs), "Ramone cars" (Chevy Impalas and anything that sort of shape), "Sheriff cars," "Doc Hudson cars," and so on. The good news is, I can keep up with categories like that.

And as the cars drove past, I paid much more attention than normal to the brands, makes, and models. I am sure as time goes by, I will probably need to know these things. When I had a kid, I was prepared for tea parties and hikes in the woods. I'm glad to be adding car shows to my repertoire.

The tech generation

Some friends of ours gave Toe this child "laptop" last Christmas and he is just now beginning to really understand how to work it. It is a nice tool in that the games are a wide variety of levels, so he will be growing into it for a long time. The hardest part for months has been understanding how the mouse works. It is a tough concept - you move this thing over here and something happens on the screen. Very abstract.

He has done well with my itouch for months now. That one he gets. And the educational games that they make now are absolutely amazing. Toby is learning letters, addition, subtraction, sight words, all as he is just playing. I'm not one for video games but I am really impressed by the things that technology provides....

And I am astonished by how easily handling technology comes to him. I wonder if it is partially because children today are raised without that baggage of "computers are complicated and only for people who want to be programmers." That is certainly dating me. I recognize it has been decades since that was the case. I am able to use technology fairly well these days, but that baggage lingers in the back of my OS.

Sylvia

Sylvia Plath, A Portrait opens at Pier Pressure Productions this weekend. It will be the first production in the new space and I feel very honored to be a part of it. We've finally seen the other group perform, the women who do the actual portrait. They are amazing. They have delved into her poetry and have put together this piece that is both humorous and moving.

My group performs a short work of Plath's entitled "Three Women." It was written as a radio play for the BBC and is a three voice poem about three different childbirth experiences. Since it was meant to mainly be heard, Susi has set it as a reader's piece. There is little staging and we sit and read from our scripts. The focus is on the voices, and of course Sylvia Plath's amazing poetry. We serve as the preface to the other group.

First Voice (me) has a son. Second voice has a miscarriage. Third voice has a daughter and gives her up. All of the stories are interwoven. Here is one of my favorite passages:

First Voice:
What is it that flings these innocent souls at us?
Look, they are so exhausted, they are all flat out
In their canvas-sided cots, names tied to their wrists,
The little silver trophies they've come so far for.
There are some with thick black hair, there are some bald.
Their skin tints are pink or sallow, brown or red;
They are beginning to remember their differences.

I think they are made of water; they have no expression.
Their features are sleeping, like light on quiet water.
They are the real monks and nuns in their identical garments.

I see them showering like stars on to the world --
On India, Africa, America, these miraculous ones,
These pure, small images. They smell of milk.
Their footsoles are untouched. They are walkers of air.

Can nothingness be so prodigal?
Here is my son.
His wide eye is that general, flat blue.
He is turning to me like a little, blind bright plant.
One cry. It is the hook I hang on.
And I am a river of milk.
I am a warm hill.

Dress rehearsal is Thursday and then we perform Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

My Child???

I admit it. I'm a slob. My house regularly looks like a college dorm room. Maybe worse. You know, minus the beer bottles.

I try. I sincerely do. I am always doing dishes, laundry, picking up... but somehow the messes I make (and it is me, folks) (ok, Toe helps) (and sometimes J, but not nearly as often) (mostly me) always exceed the amount I clean. I'm a pretty good mom. A terrible housekeeper. I can pretend otherwise. I want to be one of those women with those beautiful Pottery Barn/Martha Stewart/[insert name of catalogue with striking, spare furnishings here] homes. It is in my heart. But my house? Disaster. On a good day, we get the clutter under control enough to allow people into the house.

I come by it honestly. I am the daughter of two incredible pack rats. You never know when you might need something. It all starts with the clutter and goes from there. I have been told there are many resources to help you "de-clutter" your life. But if I have the choice between retraining my body to be less cluttered or... pretty much anything else, I end up choosing that instead. Napping, playing with Toe, reading, writing, showering, contemplating my navel...

So imagine my surprise when I am hiking on a trail through the woods with my two year old and he says, "There are a lot of needles here! I need to clean them up. I will get a stick and sweep the needles up." He proceeds to find a stick and drag it along the trail with purpose, taking a few needles with him.

We are trying to instill a better sense of cleanliness (than mine) with Toe. We have him help pick up his toys and he loves to help with dishes and laundry. His CF requires us to be hyper diligent about washing his hands (to prevent as many germs as possible) and keeping him clean (and avoiding standing water, and cleaning the sinks regularly, and avoiding ill people, but I digress...), but he's not the boy in the bubble. He loves feeding fish to the animals at the aquarium. He plays on the beach and in the back yard like a regular kid. He's not the kind of kid who can't get icky...He lives with me, for goodness sake.

But there we were, inching our way down the trail, "sweeping the needles." Toddler pace. Toddler whim. I find it fascinating. Must be his Dad's genes. My mother says my Grandmother (her mother) would find this highly amusing. She hated camping (largely because of the dirt), and was truly a tidy person. So maybe it just skipped two generations. Hey, I'll take it. Maybe it will rub off on me.