Everything is a Toy

I was reminded yesterday of one of the many habits of babies that I've known for years, and, yet, somehow always manage to forget: they can turn anything into a toy - and not only turn it into a toy, but turn it into the best toy ever.

Last night, I got a flashlight out of storage.  Amazingly, my two year olds had never seen a flashlight.  They were intrigued.  More than intrigued.  In fact, I have rarely seen anything delight and confuse them more.  (Thank you, Home Depot, for selling flashlights in a two-pack.)

"Light!  Light on!  Flash... light.  Flashlight!  Ball!  Ball?  Light?  Light!"

With each exclamation, they excitedly flicked their wrists and ran toward the light they had been casting on the wall, only the light was no longer there.

Confused, they would stop and look for it.  Oh!  There it is, on the ceiling.  They would start talking about it enthusiastically, waving their arms around for emphasis.

Wait a minute!  Where did that light-ball go?  It was just here!

We're now on day two of this.  It's clear the flashlights are going to provide our family with hours of tantrum free, hilarious, entertainment and all for the price of four D batteries.  This is a steal.  Christmas has come early.

This is a great lesson to be reminded of at Christmas time.  Sure, my kids get enjoyment out of their more expensive toys.  A year later, they're still playing with the talking Elmo from time to time.  They'll dance along to their music-maker if I point them in that direction.  They make sure to pour out all of their blocks on the floor several times a day, although it's been months since they've shown any interest in actually building with them.  It's not as if these toys go to waste.

But in this economy, parents might do well to remember that a cardboard box and a cooking spoon can be a drum.  Blankets and a flashlight can be a fort.  Wiggle a string, and you're taming a snake.  The toddler's imagination is the true Christmas coupon.  With a little make believe, a $20 Christmas has the potential to be even more fun than a $2,000 Christmas.

Ten Years Later

Last Friday, a large percentage of the other hundred people that graduated with me in 2000 dressed up in their fancy finery, glad-handed their old pals, tried desperately to one-up each other, and drank themselves into oblivion.

At least, that's what I say happened at our 10-year reunion.  I wasn't at there.  In fact, I hear they chose to play laser tag, instead.  Maybe my graduating class is even cooler than I remember it being.

I have mixed feelings on missing the reunion.  On the one hand, it would have been great to see the children (because we were children) that I grew up with.  Having a small graduating class means I knew every one of them.  I still remember all of their names.  Still, with the advent of facebook the ones that share anything in common with me already keep in touch.  In 2010, there is no shocking reveal, no adult makeover, no amazing success that hasn't already been talked to death on a social networking site.  So, really, I didn't need to go.  They already know I'm a married mom of twins who used to be a television journalist.  The introductory conversation that has traditionally been the backbone of high school reunions has been rendered moot by technology.  No wonder they played laser tag.  More running around and hiding behind things means less talking about things you already know.

A 10-year reunion, though, regardless of social media interruption, must be a magical event.  Five years is too close.  In this day and age, it is rare that anyone has gone through any major changes in the five years after graduating high school.  At ten years out, I feel like I am completely changed.  I looked at my two-year-old children watching television and think, this is it.  This is real life now.  I have children.  I have a family.  I must be an adult.  I have children.  Still, I could wake up tomorrow to the sound of a buzzer at 6 a.m. on the top bunk, fretting about the algebra homework I didn't understand and looking forward to the soccer game under the lights - so deeply ingrained are my high school years.

Growing up is something no parent can explain to a child.  As that child grows and experiences his own life changing in the strange lengths that are the days and the strange shortnesses that are the years, he will most likely remain in a confused state as to who he is and who he is becoming.  Just as he gets a grasp of what life should be for him at that very moment, the moment changes.  The flux of life is at odds with the permanence of snapshot memories.

And, of course, I am conflicted about who I am now versus who I should be.  Is that something I really wanted to 'share with the class,' so to speak?  While I am happy to be in a position to be a stay at home mom, and I love staying with my kids, watching and helping them grow, it's simply not where I thought I would be right now.  At the five-year reunion, I was up and coming.  I was going to be somebody.

What I need to remember is that I am somebody.  I am somebody very important to those little twins sitting in my living room right now.  Life doesn't always pan out as you expected it would when you were 17.  That doesn't make it worse.  If we could let go of our old definitions and of our old lives, we may even find that it's even better than we could have imagined.

Happy 10-year reunion, Somers High School Class of 2000.


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Moment of the Week - 15

Natalina knows how this story ends.

Toddler Tricks - 15

Ways to Trick your Baby:

Problem:  Your babies need an object.  Right now.  They need their lovey that they lost somewhere, and you have no idea where it is.  They need some pudding, but you ran out of pudding two days ago.  They absolutely need to pet the neighbor's dog, but the neighbor is not home.  Obviously, as their parent, you have all of these things.  You clearly are just hiding them from the babies out of some adult perversion that gets a kick out of their intense suffering.  Should you not be able to procure the object that is lost, does not exist, or is out, no amount of reasoning with the children will convince them that this monstrosity is not your fault.  You are the parent.  Make it happen.

Solution:  Sometimes, babies will accept that you don't always have the answer, if you make a show of attempting to help them.  Whether the item is lost, doesn't exist, or is gone for the time being, I find that if I can get them listening to me before they hit full-on freak-out mode, we can make searching for the necessary item into a game.  This puts us on the same side.  It's no longer mean mommy who doesn't give out treats that we don't have.  It's mommy and babies setting off in search of treats. 

Are they under the couch?  No.  Are they on the porch?  No.  Let's call out to them!  "Hello!  Hello!  Pudding?  Hello!  Come!  Pudding, come!"  Nope, no answer.  Are they in your room?  No, not here either.  But look what is here!  Your favorite book!  Let's take a break from searching to read this.

And, sometimes, they do forget about the search and move on to other, more attainable, goals.


Ways Your Baby Tricks You:

Problem:  They didn't forget about the lovey, pudding, or puppy that you were never able to find for them.  They're working themselves up into a frenzy over it right now.  They are repeating themselves nonstop in the hopes that you are just not understanding them.

Solution:  Continue to patiently direct their attention to other things.  It may take a long time.  You may feel like it is an exercise in futility, but, eventually, something will catch their attention.  Many times, I think, it's not even that I found something incredibly interesting for them.  It's more likely that they got bored of crying.  I'll take what I can get.  As long as it's not this:

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Colorless Thoughts on Black Friday

I don't like Black Friday.  It's not the starting at ridiculous a.m. that gets me.  It's not the notion of big, bad capitalism taking over the holidays.  It's not the fear of being run over by thousands of parents who need just the right talking baby doll for their littles ones.

It's a timing thing.  Each year, it seems Black Friday creeps further up on Thanksgiving, and we don't have much wiggle room left.  On Thursday, we are expected to bask in the warmth and ease of our family and loved ones, giving thanks for all we have.  On Friday, and recently, on Thursday night, we are made to forget all of that thanksgiving and concentrate instead on what we don't have, on what we need, right this second, at 70 percent off.  The turkey isn't even cold on the counter before many families turn their attention from laughter and forgetting to bargains and strategy.

To be a successful Black Friday shopper, one must have a route planned out.  Store visits are put on deadline.  If we don't get out of Toys R Us at 5 a.m., we'll never stand a chance at Kohls!  Do people even go to bed on Thanksgiving night anymore?

And what about the moms and grandmothers in all this?  Somebody had to make that dinner for 18 people.  Somebody had to fret over getting the turkey just right and setting the dip out on time, and hiding the bread loaf that didn't rise.  After all that stress, the peace and tranquility that comes after the meal is needed to preserve the day's meaning. 

I've got nothing against consumerism, but when it encroaches upon and nearly redefines a holiday I love, I do feel a bit put upon.  Even if you choose not to partake in the event, someone in your family is going shopping, and they are going to tell you all about it.  Memories of your beloved ones, talk of family ties, and chit chat about the day tend to be drowned out by anticipation of standing, cold, in line for eight hours to get that new computer. 

Why not put a little space in between them?  Would Black Saturday be such a bad idea?

I'm not saying everybody should stay home and buy presents at full price, or make little trinkets themselves.  I'm not saying the rush is necessarily a bad thing.  I'd just like a few hours to enjoy my Thanksgiving before being flooded with news stories about maulings and arrests. 

Thanksgiving is for being grateful for all you have; Black Friday is for ignoring all that you have in favor of all that you want.  I simply think they are too close together.


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