Hang in there, TV Gal Pal, it’s almost Friday

Poor Oprah’s had a rough week.

On Monday she sat in Stun Mode listening to terrorism experts tell her/us that we’re basically screwed.

On Tuesday she/we learned about Bird Flu and how it made terrorism seem like a day at Disney World (assuming that you, like me, love the land of Walt’s imagination). Apparently we need to have 6 weeks of food, water, diapers, and drugs stockpiled in the event that the entire infrastructure shuts down and we’re unable to obtain said items. Oprah looked as though she might be coming down with a case.

On Wednesday it was a Bad People Doing Bad Things episode the highlight of which was another announcement of another pedophile being caught and put behind bars. Of course, she’s coming under fire for offering rewards for the people who catch the creeps. Figure that one out.

Today it was a live episode with James Frey of A Million Little Pieces of Lies in My Memoir in the hotseat. Op is “embarrassed” and “disappointed” with Frey and his web of untruths. I didn’t read the book. It didn’t interest me. But I feel for her. She’s being attacked for his lies. Not quite sure how that’s fair, really. The upshot is that it’s going to be a hell of a lot lighter in the Memoir catergory releases next season, I can tell you that. Oprah was barely contained. It was delicious television. My TiVo and I giggled.

I’m hoping tomorrow is a nice fluff piece. A happy car give away or nice peek into the life of Nate-the-Decorator.

At least things are happy on Sesame Street.

True Confessions

1. Our Christmas tree is still up. It’s artificial so there’s no especial fire danger… but I know that it’s long past due to be put away for the year. The problem is that Jack loves it. He stands on the back of the couch and admires it. And it brightens up the January gloom a bit. It’ll go down this week but I’m not looking forward to it.

2. I’ve eaten an entire box of Christmas chocolates all by myself. There is only what appears to be a coconut piece left from an assorted tin that brother Andy gave me.

3. I’ve bought and read two People magazines this month because Brangelina were on the cover. Now here’s the thing– I don’t like either one of them. I think she is as creepy as they come (I have a long memory and the way she kissed her brother still has me unsettled) and Brad is a useless bit of fluff. I don’t trust metrosexuals. And yet, still, I felt compelled to read about their pregnancy.

4. I hate the phone. I hate that it eliminates gesturing… that there is just a disembodied voice with no facial expressions or gesticulations. On the other hand, JackRabbit is newly aware that some voices are recognizable. Twice lately he has been away from Robby or I at bedtime and we’ve held up a phone so he can hear the missing parent say “goodnight”… he thinks it great fun and responds with a cackling laugh or squeal. Three weeks ago he didn’t do that. He would just look quizzically at the phone and at the person holding it and that was about it. Now it’s a connection in his brain between the memory of a familiar voice and the sound of it. Oprah just did a show about how things work and, frankly, the segment on phones left me more confused then ever…

5. I’m somewhat convinced that our Ford Explorer is possessed by some type of demon. It’s spotty lately on whether it feels like starting or not. This isn’t convenient. It has a ridiculous amount of miles on it and it’s had a period of having been considered a faithful steed but I’m beginning to think it’s time for the shotgun. Or a nice green pasture. A petting zoo.

Maybe the phone will ring and Op will have a car for me?

Baby Einstein

Jack is figuring things out. It might seem like a little thing but it’s huge, really. He’s starting to really make connections about his world and how some of the stuff works.

In the living room, our main base of operations, there’s a square ottoman that doubles as a storage cube. It used to house my sewing stuff till recently when I emptied out and put in some of Jack’s toys. In the space of a week he picked up on the memory that it opens– another huge thing, really, that a day later and the day after that he would remember how to get the top of it opened up– and that it contains a wealth of his toys.

And his memory stretches to his playthings. He searches for certain ones now. It’s a riot to watch his sturdy little body lean over a container of toys and see blocks and little trucks come flinging out either side as he digs for some remembered object. He’s very confident that he’ll get a wheel to turn or his little trike bell to ring and his face contorts in a frenzied confusion when a (hidden) switch has been turned to “off” or he squeezes the wrong hand of Hokey Pokey Elmo.

Everything gets more attention now. It’s harder to distract Jacky from doing something he shouldn’t (or that we’d rather he not) do. Philbin is learning that, if he’s in reach, Jack WILL find him. The poor pup spends an indecent amount of most early mornings in the headlock of his demented little captor.

Every day Jack is less and less a baby and more and more a little boy. My biggest lesson every day is in reminding myself that this is right and meet and that the goal isn’t to keep him as he is but to let him grow into what he will be. Luckily, so far, every new accomplishment and hurdle has brought more joy and wonder into the mix.

Those of you with babies– grown or not– know all this. And this is all pretty textbook Early Child Psychology. After all, he’s right on target for Imitation… and this is all normal stuff for a 16 month old… but for us, the Mommy and Daddy and Little Black Dog Sibling, it’s huge.

Three Wise Men

Yesterday was Epiphany. It marks the day the wise men reached the little Christ Child. You know the drill… a star, a journey, and some odd gifts. Like a lot of good stories there’s even a bad guy– Herod the King. One of my most favorite Christmas time songs is the Coventry Carol. I love the lyrics, “Herod the king, in his raging, chargeth he hath this day…” The wise men, being wise, didn’t go back to Herod. They took a different route back instead to throw him off the trail. It’s a little stupid to criticize the Bible but I do wish that there were more details. Still. What’s there inspires a lot of imagination.

The wiseman took a long while to reach Jesus. Today, while I cleaned house and made dip I wondered about the details that aren’t there. Did they have an entourage? Did they pitch tents? What were the camels’ names? Were they excited about the trip or did they find it exasperating and arduous? Did they have families? My nativity scene wiseman don’t tell me much. They kneel and stand in their multi-hued robes and little hats and crowns and bearing their gifts but they don’t have any parcels or burdens of bedrolls and clothes and food. My set has only one camel which seems a little silly. In their ceramic pose they are very silent in front of the the baby king… did their real counterparts find time to get to know the toddler Jesus? did they play peek-a-boo?

Today, in most of the western hemisphere was a day of celebration. It’s not a big American holiday. European and South American kids have one up on us. Epiphany is the day they get presents and cake and little papery crowns to wear. There are tiny prizes or coins hidden in a great cake that promises wonderful things to the finder (except in Mexico where it is the finder of the token’s task to throw a Candlemas party on February 2).

At our house we celebrate it. We call it by the English name, “Twelfth Night,” and my mother always provides a cake with a hidden prize. For one night the house is busy with people and the dining room table is laden with treats and we see some of the folks that we love very much but don’t see enough of. When it’s over we tidy up plates and cups and nibble on leftover sweets and compare the news we’ve gathered because Robby usually mans the porch/bar area while I take the diningroom/kitchen. Tonight the conversations ranged from pre-algebra to potty training, soft water to politics, old childhood stories to politics.

Jack toddled from hand to hand and scowled, mostly. He’s been in a foul mood today. Actually, much of this week. He mustered a few smiles here and there and I got a nice kiss from him but mostly he furrowed his tiny brow at the people in his house. We’ll work on his hosting skills.

Last year, in the church Epiphany Pageant, Jacky played the part of the baby Jesus. I was the World’s Oldest Virgin Mary and Robby the Most Clean Shaven Joseph on record. We went through two kids to get to one that would play Jesus-at-age-two while Jack stayed with his Grandmother the ArchAngel (we agreed to take part mostly for the chance to have Jacky play the baby and to see my mother-in-law in full angel gear…). Jack was sweet and cherubic and made a nice tableau. This year he might have made a nice young King Herod. (I’m not kidding about that foul mood.)

Godspeed wisemen. Thanks for making the trip.

2006 Revolutions

This year I will try to learn to make bread– or at least good cinnamon rolls.

I’ll read more than I did last year.

I’ll visit some new place.

I’ll spend as much time as possible cuddling my small son while he still finds this acceptable.

I’ll try be more organized.

And I’ll make Robby more of a priority… it gets a little dicey when there is a little Prince AND a little Black Dog in the house… the grown ups get kind of lost in the shuffle…

Oh. And I’ll drink more water. It’s good for me even if I think water is yucky.