--- Welcome to Plotzworld ---

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Don't Say It Out Loud

Last night over a lovely pizza dinner (nothing better than Pino's Pizza), Doug told me that when he was a baby he would climb out of his crib during the night without anyone knowing it. I told him that I think Mamie is likely to stay in her crib until she's 12. She's got 432 play friends in there, 5 books, a blanket, a pillow and an anatomically correct baby doll. No reason to leave.

Approximately ten minues after I said this remark Mamie started screaming "no crib, no crib."

Flabbergasted, I went in to her to see her standing up holding her blanket, Coco bear, dog purse and Baby Rose. She looked like a hitchhiker, ready for her ride. "C'mon, pick me up, already." I asked her what was wrong and she said "read book, no crib." So I took her to the living room, which was now dark to show her that everyone was sleeping. Everyone, being the television set. She led me back to her room where I once again did the whole night-time routine: 5 books, tickling, saying goodnight to everything in room including the walls and then plopping her into the crib. She was all happy faced until I left at 8:33. Then crying for 30 minutes. Really it was more complaining than crying, but you get the idea: no sleep. She finally went out around 9:04, a good hour and half later than her usual bedtime of 7:30.

Doug and I were too afraid to move or put on the television (no American Idol for us) so we decided to go to sleep too. I imagined that since Mamie went down so late that she'd of course sleep at least until 7:30. The past four mornings she was up at 6AM, so she had to be tired. Right?

WRONG. 5:20AM we heard her talking to dog purse. Fine, she does that sometimes, and then she falls back asleep. But today that didn't happen. She got louder and louder, fake crying and screaming and moving Elmo around so much in her crib that we could hear his eyes banging against the rails. It would get quiet for a few minutes in between this floor show, but then start up again. I wanted to go in and plop her in our bed so we could all sleep, even though that would not be good for anyone (we just went through this 3 weeks ago and it was a nightmare) but I thought no, just wait it out. She has to fall back asleep.

Then we heard a thump.

"That's gotta be Baby Rose," I said to Doug. Baby Rose is a hard doll. We thump her around ourselves as entertainment for Mamie.

We then heard Mamie talking quieting to her animals -- and then nothing. Quiet. Not that I could sleep at all, but it was quiet. At 6:10, I decided to check in on her. I knew that this might wake her up, but I had to see what was going on. I thought that I could sneak Baby Rose back into the crib too. As soon as I opened the door, I heard "Hi Mommy." But there was no one in the crib. Mamie's room is small, so where could she be? I turned to look at the little cushion area we have in there. It's a place where we read books and cuddle and where I change her diapers. And there she was.

"So I guess you don't want a crib anymore, Mamie. Huh?"

"No, crib," she said. "Own bed."

All righty then!

So we've technically been up since 5:20AM. As Mamie played in the living room, all lively and awake, Doug and I discussed the next step over strong coffee and stale bagels. Toddler bed? Mattress on the floor? Lowering the rail on her crib? Sleeping with us forever? No sleep at all, ever?

What to do? For the nap today we'll try lowering the rail on her crib but I'm thinkin' it's bed time. Man, she is growing up so fast and while it will be amazing and nutty to see her in a real bed, or a small version of one, I can't help but think that we will never sleep through the night again, ever. Because won't she just find the freedom too enticing? Will she venture out of even a toddler bed? Man, I miss the cage, I mean, the crib already. How do people do this?

I know, it's my fault. It's my fault for saying that she loves her crib. ALL. MY. FAULT.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Heads Up

We have a problem over here. It's Charlie McCarthy. Nah, not that he's creepy. No, it's much more serious than that.

His noggin is about to fall off. Big time.

Charlie is an old toy from Doug's childhood and we've been abusing him senseless. Between shoving food down his piehole, making him wiggle relentlessly and climb the walls like a cockroach (too hard to explain), he has taken a real beating. The other night when Mamie asked Doug to dance with Charlie (again, too hard to explain), his ol' cranium almost landed on the floor. I quick grabbed Charlie while Doug entertained Mamie and then hid him in our bedroom. While Mamie slept, Doug and I assessed the situation. It was either take him to the doll hospital in Manhattan (and try to explain why he's wearing leopard pants and has a head full of Veggie Booty) or try to do a patch job at home. For now Charlie is wearing a scarf choker, emphasis on the choking part. I have that thing tied so tight his mouth is permanently open. If you look deep enough, you can most likely see Mamie's tofu scramble caked on his throat.

I'm not concerned that we've ruined a priceless antique. Fact is, he was slightly used when he got him. I'm more worried that Mamie will see his head fall off and freak out. Actually, I'm more worried that she'll see his head fall off and want that to happen 74 more times. She likes that kind of stuff.

So for now, Charlie is "sleeping" in his Von Dutch t-shirt and Mamie's old MaryJane socks. He looks content (he does!) Miraculously we found a clone on the internet and will substitute the new Charlie for the old one when he arrives (complete with monocle. Whatever.)

Until then, any ideas what to do with an old Charlie McCarthy head?

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Fan Appreciation Day

I met a woman at the playground this past summer; we had met previously at a music class that our kids attended and so it was really nice to bump into her again. Our kids played really well together and talking to her, I realized why I loved the park and our neighborhood so much. It was a cloudy morning, on the verge of rain and I was determined to get Mamie some air before we had to stay indoors for the rest of the day. What I mean is, it was nice to go out and see other like minded folks doing the same. City livin', I guess.

So we got to talking and she told me how tough it was because her husband was out of town. Doug travels sometimes and so I know how hard and long the days are when you are truly the only one taking care of your kid. (There are times when Doug is away and I look at the clock and it's 5:00 and I think to myself: "2 1/2 more hours until bedtime. Please come soon." Then as soon as Mamie's down, I miss her.) Anyway, I asked what her husband did and when she told me that he was on a children's TV show, I nearly fell into the sandpit.

"We watch that show!," I said, suddenly outing myself to the fact that not only do I watch Oobi , but that I knew exactly who her husband played on the show.

Today I got to reenact that same inanity when one of my favorite bloggers out there introduced himself to me at the local bookstore. Was I grinning like an idiot on the outside too? It's incredible to read someone's (really funny, highly entertaining) words, but it's another thing to meet them and dish on the site, in the 'hood, on the down low tip ya'll.

I know. I'm a nerd. Believe me, I know.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

The Whole Britney Thing

All of this hubbub about Britney is really depressing me. No, I don't listen to her music, nor do I own any of her CDs. I'm not a fan per se. But I can't help remembering her performance at the Grammy's years ago when she sang "Satisfaction" and stripped off her clothes. I remember kinda being in awe of her then because she was breaking boundries. You saw everyone in that crowd giving her props for that. The week after that ran, I interviewed Scarlett Johansson for Index Magazine and it came up during the interview. You sort of realized that Britney was a star. Everyone liked her even if they didn't admit it.

Sure I watched Britney and Kevin's reality show (once!) and it was awful. And I saw the homegrown interview she did when she was pregnant with her second son and that was really terrible. I kept wondering where the people in her life were, the ones that cared about her. Couldn't someone have talked some sense into her before she went on national television in broken down flip flops, fake eyelashes half on and smeared lipstick? It was weird. And sad. Why was Britney so intent on people seeing her as some country person, just like ya'll.

My take on the head shaving thing is a lot less psychological and has more to do with the fact that her hair is fried from overprocessing. Also, at the 4 month mark post pregnancy, your hair starts to fall out. Since she got pregnant with her second kid 3 months postpartum -- the hair loss didn't happen the first time -- so I bet it was falling out in clumps recently. Her hair extensions probably exaserbated it as well. If she had just shaved her head and maybe donated the money to a charity and then went home to her two darling sons, I probably wouldn't be writing this right now. But watching those videos (Larry King is interested in this?), I see such deep sadness in her.

Now that I have a daughter, all I think about is, how could this happen? How could her mother let her slip so far? This is not say that her mother has failed her. No, I think Britney calls the shots (especially when Mom was on the payroll). All I'm saying is how does it get this bad? i wonder if Britney's mom was trying to help her all along or if she just intervened now. I wonder if Britney pushed her away. I fear that Britney just didn't want help from anyone, not even her mother.

I hope and pray that Mamie knows I am always here for her. It would be insensitive for me to say that Mamie will never go that route, that she will never end up like Britney, in and out of rehab in 3 days, with two young sons with who knows who. I can't say any of that because I'm sure Britney's mother never thought this would happen to her daughter either. But I'm gonna die trying to make sure nothing like this ever does happen to her.

I wish Britney the best, but I know that I am part of the problem. I'm am too interested in her case. So I'm gonna tune out for now. No more updates, no more Larry King check-ins and no more Perezhilton hits. I gotta let the girl be, I think.

Friday, February 09, 2007

Happy Birthday To Me

Today is my birthday and the biggest thought on my mind is: who cares?

That is strange for me because I used to be so into my birthday. I used to get mad if people didn't remember it or bought me a crappy gift or who called the day before (how dare they!) and not on on my actual birthday. I was a total brat and I apologize to anyone who is reading this who suffered at my wrath. Sure it's nice when people remember but I am truly at the place in my life where that is enough. And if best friends forget, fine! I get it now. PEOPLE ARE BUSY.

I don't need a present or flowers or chocolates (well, maybe a chocolate.) I got a lot of my plate now with a sick kid (fever. molars. not sleeping. the whole nine.) and all I really care about is her well being. She woke at 4AM today and I ran into her room, felt her too-warm body temperature and did what I had to do, what I wanted to do. I laid down beside her and held her until she fell asleep. When she woke hours later, she looked at me and said "Hi." And then smiled.

Now, that's what I call a birthday gift. Anything else today is pure icing.