Goodbye, Mr. Rogers

Yesterday I watched this TED talk on media and children. It's an issue that I've been thinking about a lot, as media is an inevitable part of our daily lives and household. We don't watch that much TV, but Elisa has of course been exposed to a little bit of media - some baseball and football games with her daddy, occasionally getting a glimpse of us using our computers (we do our best to hide them from her since she'll insist on playing with them and drooling all over the keyboard), and a DVD set that I received as a gift from a student while I was pregnant called Classical Baby. Call me overprotective if you want, but I am just alarmed at the way most kids I see out and about are addicted to screens in restaurants, in cars, anywhere or anytime when there is two minutes of waiting or silence. And after reading Bringing Up Bébé by Pamela Druckerman (which I realize has gotten a lot of criticism for not being a true representation of French parenting, but was a great read), I am much more aware of the way Americans lack patience. We are evermore a society of instant gratification.

This TED talk answered a lot of the questions I had about the ways that media can be harmful to growth for young children. I don't know if you've seen some of the cartoons that are on nowadays, but they are very, very different from what I remember as a kid. Maybe it's because the world of animation has gotten so much more advanced and producers can't help but use every single technique for creating a show with constant motion, high-energy music, and scene changes every single second. Even My Little Pony has gotten a facelift, complete with techno music and neon colored ponies. Very different than the pastoral, peace-loving creatures that live somewhere in my memory.

The TED talk references the oldschool children's program Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood as the type of program that is preferential for kids since its pacing is much more similar to real life and the energy level is way less intense. Paul and I got curious. It's been awhile since either of us had seen the show. We discovered that Mr. Rogers is available for streaming on Amazon Prime, so we watched a few snippets. I was totally sold when he visited a luthier who was making a double bass, followed by an interview with Yo-Yo Ma. Yo-Yo talked about how he started cello, how to choose an instrument, and played a few pieces different pieces to show emotion in music. I loved it! The show was overall a little dated based on Yo-Yo's wire-rimed glasses and Mr. Rogers' sweater set, but the luthier could have passed for any other hipster dude walking down Sunset (he was rocking a plaid flannel shirt and beard). Mr. Rogers proceeded to welcome his guitar playing friend into the interview with Yo-Yo. He asked if the two of them could play something together, and lo and behold the guitarist pulls out a classical, nylon-string guitar! I was ecstatic!

And then the guitarist did something very peculiar. He pulled out a PICK and started STRUMMING the poor classical guitar, alternating between a total of a whopping two chords. I wasn't listening at that point as the knife had already sunk to deeply into my heart and I was yelling obscenities at the screen. I mean, really? You're going to strum a classical guitar and waste a perfectly good opportunity to talk about this lovely nylon-stringed instrument in all of its glory? And Yo-Yo? Why aren't you saying anything?! Has the Silk Road project left you with no musical integrity?! I guess Mr. Rogers didn't know any better either, but as the host of your own show you've got to say something when a guest is butchering an art form (which happens to be the very one that I've devoted my career to!)

So that was the end of my very short love affair with Mr. Rogers. I guess we'll stick to cartoon animals playing orchestral instruments for now. In moderation, of course.

May you rest in peace, Fred.

Breaking a Mallrat

I won't deny it. I love shopping. Growing up, it was fun to go on weekly trips to the mall with my mom and sister. We'd follow mom around and watch her peruse things, get an Orange Julius (basically, an orange creamsicle in a cup, which, now that I think back to it, is a pretty gross drink that only existed in the 80's). When I was old enough, I'd go off with my sister or friends and do my own browsing. Shopping is still the first thing my sister and I do together whenever we see each other. And it's not always about buying stuff - mostly, it's about spending time together without the boys, sharing our opinions about the latest trends, and delighting in the joy of a good sale. When I'm alone, it's more about just getting out, people watching, and being part of a crowd.

I've frequently taken Elisa to stores and malls to get out of the house on my days home. But now that she can walk, she won't stand for being in the stroller while we're inside a store. The other day, we were at Baby Gap just browsing. When she started whining to get out of the stroller, I figured it was a safe place to do so since there were lots of little ones around. I lifted her out and she gleefully proceeded to walk up and down the racks that were lowest to the ground, stopping to take a closer look at certain items, and taking things off the rack that she thought should go home with her. There was something very grown-up about the way that she was walking around the store proudly, not listening to my calls for her to come closer to me, her eyes glued to the items on the racks and shelves. Then it dawned on me - she was mimicking the way that I shop! She defiantly protested when I tried to prevent her from throwing a display of pants onto the ground. As I attempted to put her back into the stroller, she began kicking her feet and making high-pitched hyena noises. I knew we had to make our exit as soon as possible. So I promptly picked her up with one hand, put that stroller into gear with another, and zipped out and back into the mall, giving an apologetic smile to the salesperson who had greeted us and cooed over Elisa. I lowered my eyes when she raised an eyebrow at my flailing-limbed toddler.

It's probably not great parenting on my part to expect her to be able to sit through me dawdling around a store. But more so than that, I'm not sure that I want her to grow up with shopping being one of her central hobbies. Sometimes I wonder why buying stuff can be so exhilarating. I guess my dad's lectures on saving never really kicked in. Instead, I remember the mall as our happy place where the power of decision and the orange creamsicle in a cup put me into a blind trance of rabid consumerism. I guess I justify my father's teachings by being a proud bargain hunter and a Targetholic. So why is the feeling of finding a good deal such a rush? Is this the hunting and gathering of my culture, the desire to shop akin to my primordial instincts of foraging for fruits and berries, its very act central to my survival? Is this something that I really want to pass down to my daughter? And of course, wouldn't I save more money if I hadn't bought anything in the first place?

But that's no fun.

The jury's still out on this one. But for awhile, I will probably skip shopping in favor of more wholesome activities like the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It is free to children and their caregivers, and is a great, wide open space good for lots of walking, running, and dawdling. There are a few outdoor exhibits that Elisa just loved when we went today. And we had no major episodes, just lots of exploring and smiles.

Elisa's kimono dress is by Tea Collection. It was a gift, I swear...

Redesign

Well, Babycakes is no longer a baby. So I thought I'd go back to the old title of this blog and redesign it a little bit. Hopefully this will make me feel more compelled to write on it!

We caught a tiny bit of autumn weather yesterday morning with an unusually cloudy morning after a spell of awful heat in the upper 90's. A quick trip to the park yielded lots of walking, babbling, falling, and disappointment as the playground equipment had yellow caution tape around it. Not sure what happened there. We did get to use the baby swing though. Didn't get a picture of it yesterday, but here's one from another day at the park. She's even wearing the same pants.

I got a pretty good shot (the one on my banner) of the little ones walking on a semblance of fall foliage. The best we can do for LA even in the middle of October.

Unicorn Sightings

Unicorn: legendary animal from European folklore that resembles a white horse with a large, pointed, spiraling horn projecting from its forehead, and sometimes a goat's beard and cloven hooves. 

There's a unicorn in my house. Actually, it's my toddler. We've been calling her this because she reminds us of a mythical creature, sometimes associated with fantasy, sometimes with drugs, but always with disbelief. At times I still can't believe that my tiny little baby is now a 20 pound walking, babbling little girl.  Sometimes we let her wander around the house a little bit while we're doing stuff. She'll walk and babble, go into one room, and then into another, back and forth, until she comes back again. We call it a unicorn sighting. What a beautiful creature, we say. Is she really real?

Today we went to the pediatrician for her 15 month checkup. A couple walked into the waiting room with a tiny newborn sleeping in his carseat. Newborn parents are easy to spot. They look exhausted but stunned, like a rabid squirrel just bit them or something.

"Awww. How old?" I asked.
"One week," said the dad, his eyes bugging out.
"Wow, congratulations," I said.
"D-does yours sleep longer?" he asked. Its obvious that he's had a lot of coffee this morning.
"Oh, yeah. She's 15 months. She sleeps 11-12 hours a night," I said, looking down at the perfectly still toddler in my Ergo. E's only quiet because she's looking around with a scared expression since she knows that she has had shots here before.
 "He was up all night, just crying and crying."
"Oh, I've totally been there," I said, half sympathetically, half smirking. Not sure why I'm smirking. I feel like a veteran talking to a new recruit or something. This rookie has just entered boot camp and he has no idea.
"I really had no idea it was going to be like this," he continues. "I mean, people told us we wouldn't sleep, but I didn't think... like..." he trails off, unable to finish his sentence.
"I know. The first couple months are really intense. Don't worry, it gets better," I tried to reassure him as the nurse called us into the exam room.

I guess there are some things I don't miss about the early days, even though I now spend most of my day chasing her around and am totally exhausted by 6pm. A unicorn sighting is still exhilerating every time.

Some photos from our doctor visit today. Its impossible to get a non-blurry picture of her lately since she is ALWAYS moving!

Nostalgia

We decided to sell our SLR camera to possibly upgrade in the future, and in cleaning out the memory card I got pretty nostalgic looking at these old pics of Elisa at different stages during her first year, noticing the amount of baby fat that she's lost already in her face and her limbs. Here are some of my favorites.

Toddlerhood.

Requisite remorseful statement about not posting enough: 
I regret not posting on this blog more frequently. I wish I could look back and have a month by month chronicle of everything that's gone on in mommydom - but alas, I went into some kind of black hole during months 5-12. I think it was an attempt to practice guitar or something. Oh well. Maybe I'll redo the site a little bit and start posting weekly, even if they are boring chronicles of every day life.

I miss having a little baby. Dare I say it? No, it's not what you think. Don't think I'm quite ready for another yet. But every single day, it is so apparent to me that Elisa is totally embracing toddlerhood and becoming more of a real little person. She's like my buddy that I take around with me wherever I go. Except this buddy is prone to tantrums, whining, being hungry every hour, and on a bad day, kicking and screaming. (Sounds a bit like me when I'm PMSing.) She can easily be cheered up with baked goods though. Hmm, also sounds a bit like me - on a normal basis...

I shouldn't dwell on the negatives because there are plenty of positives. She's learning so many things and is unbearably cute in her new pink sneakers that we got a few weeks ago when walking became imminent. She has been walking for about three weeks now and getting sturdier every day. I half expect to see her running if I turn my back. Sometimes when she loses balance, she'll stick out her right arm in this Frankenstein sort of way with it half crooked pointing towards the sky. Other times, she'll pick up random objects and hold them while she walks, maybe for balance, but also just to prove that she can multitask. These items include books, trash, packaging, spoons, and anything with a handle. The other day we were at a Mexican place having lunch and she proceeded to walk around the entire restaurant and touch random strangers while making her kissing face at them.

Today we went to the library for weekly story time and afterwards, she sat in a kiddie sized chair and flipped through a book. Paul happened to call me from San Francisco, where he is on a one-day business trip. I said, "Elisa is sitting in a chair looking at a book." He promptly freaked out and said, "She's sitting in a chair? She's such a woman now. Next thing you know, she'll be driving and hanging out at coffee shops."

Ok, so I guess we're still new parents. These new steps of toddlerhood are pretty thrilling, in a lot of the ways that infancy were. They're just different. I'm trying to embrace it, too.

Pizza delivery!

How time flies!

I wasn't sure if this blog would survive. It looks like I stopped writing right after I finished my maternity leave. Then life picked up, I went back to working three days a week, played a few concerts, and poof - here we are! Today E turns 13 months. I meant to write for each month at least - but oh well. You do the best you can. This is my motto as of late because sometimes everything just feels like a big mess.

E is nearly on the verge of walking. She's pulling up everywhere, can't sit still in her high chair for more than 5 minutes, and I am constantly chasing her around the house as she cruises around the couch and coffee table, climbs up the stairs, and crawls fast chasing the dog. The good news is that she sleeps great these days. She takes two full naps that usually run from 1.5-2 hours each, and about 11-12 hours at night without interruption. Must be all that extra energy required to be so mobile. Phew! It makes me exhausted. It seems like we have a routine now where we settle on the couch after she's in bed, watch the Olympics, and I fall asleep watching all athletes do their thing. It looks so tiring - I figure someone's gotta conserve energy while these folks in London are expending so much. (And yes, usually its barely 10pm by the time I'm passed out. It's funny to think that I ever struggled with insomnia - but that's a post for another time.)

Having a toddler requires a different kind of energy than a baby did. Before E was so mobile, I mostly felt a physical drain and I was tired a lot because I'd be up nursing her. But now it requires a patience and vigilance on her that I didn't have to exercise before. She is starting to assert her independence too. Before, I could just pick her up to go upstairs, change her diaper, or go somewhere and now if she doesn't want to, she produces a high pitched whine and pushes me away. This is hard, because I'm so used to having control without a fight - and now this little person is realizing that she can have some control too. And to be pushed away by a little person that was once in your belly and relied on you for every basic physical need - well, it hurts if you take it personally! So I try not to, but sometimes I miss having a little blob that you could just set on the couch and cook breakfast and the blob wouldn't have moved. But I digress. I do love my little toddler.

P thinks she interacts with me in a different way than him. Whereas he is all play time, picking her up and throwing her around while she squeals in delight, reading her books in funny voices, singing ridiculous made-up songs about poo, she seems to look to me for sustenance and comfort. This is probably left over from our nursing relationship, where I was her walking source of food all the time. But now if she is hungry, thirsty, scared of a new place, or wants me to walk her around holding her hands up high (and straining my back and neck), she has a particular look (and whine) that she gives me that she doesn't usually give to her daddy. It's pretty fascinating that we have such distinct roles in her life already.

Yesterday, I had a particularly hard day. It's been 95-100 degrees every day this week as we're getting one of those late summer heat waves. So after we got back from music class, I parked across the street from our house under some shade. As I was crossing the street holding E, I slipped and fell in the middle of the street - hard. I was wearing these really cute sandals that I got from my favorite boutique that were super cheap ($16!) but have no traction on the bottom. I skinned both my knees and although I tried to protect E from the fall, she hit her head also and ended up with a slight bruise. I'm just glad it wasn't worse. I had blood dripping down my leg as I walked into the house and E was crying pretty hard from the shock (then she touched my knee and had blood on her and it freaked me out because I thought it was hers), but luckily P was home to clean us up. I think it wasn't the physical pain that wore me out for the rest of the day. It was fact that despite my best efforts, I couldn't shield E from falling in the middle of a street where people drive pretty fast down the hill, and I just felt plain old incompetent. I'm often not very good at walking. I spent the rest of the day feeling really discouraged. Plus, I was really sticky and cranky from the heat. That's probably how E felt too. Sometimes we're not all that different from toddlers.

Anyway, I'm in need of strength and I've been trying to find a good devotional book for mothers but I can't seem to find anything that's not written by Texan women with big hair. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But if anyone knows of something that is a little more compelling than what came up on my Amazon search, then please do send some recommendations my way. I could use a little sustenance myself.

Some pictures from this week.

Playing guitar, sitar style

Practicing her puckers

Picnicing at the Americana

Chowing down