Okay, I'm gonna try to do this short, cause there's a mountain of dishes to do, a mountain of reading and website development to get done, and Lucy finally stopped freaking out about this sketch on Portlandia that scared her.
It was the opening clip of episode four or five of season one, where there are these hands putting up flyers over one another. It was edited to be really erratic and abrasive, pretty lo-fi, and funnily angry. Let me see if I can find the clip...
In retrospect, I don't think I should have known better. Portlandia is a pretty insane show, even taking on Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! elements at times. Basically they amp up the crazy, all while keeping a pretty strict Portland/Pacific Northwest theme. It's not exactly bad for kids--the few swear words aren't paid extra attention, there's no steamy sex stuff, and no violence.
But it was the crazy element that scared Lucy. I can relate. Sometimes weird, otherworldly takes on everyday things can be really scary. If seen from the right light. I thought the sketch was hilarious, but I'm not 2.9 years old.
I had just sat down on the couch with BB and a bottle of formula. It was almost her nap time. She was tired and I wanted to give her a nice warm filling drink. I turned on the tv, cause feeding the baby a bottle is the only tv time I get during the day, and started that Portlandia episode.
Lucy came to sit on the couch next to us, and was checking out the show. When the sketch was nearing its apex at the end, Lucy just started crying all of a sudden. She put her head, turned away from the tv, on my shoulder and leaned on me, whimpering and sobbing. And I've got a baby on my lap, leaning on my chest and holding her own bottle, while I hold her.
Worried that Lucy's crying would make BB start crying, I said to Lucy, after the obligatory, 'What's wrong,' and 'It's a tv show, it's just pretend, you're gonna be fine,' "Get out of here, get off of me if you're gonna cry like that. Go into your room. Go."
That was my mistake. She did go into her room, but didn't stop crying. I continued watching the show, trying to enjoy it, feeling bad for Lucy, trying not to feel bad for Lucy, and to keep calm for the baby, who was falling asleep on me.
I noticed after a few more minutes that BB had nodded off with the bottle in her mouth, letting it drop to her chest. I took it out of her hands, which woke her up. She started crying, cause she's a baby and I just took a bottle away from her, never mind that she'd fallen asleep with it.
I carried her into our bedroom (cause she shares it with mom and I) and shut the door to drown out the crying, whimpering toddler, who probably wanted my attention more than she was actually scared. Kids get stuck in what my daycare Jedi friend Todd calls a 'crying loop.' They start crying, keep themselves crying, eventually forget why, and at that point are unable to stop.
BB is such a cuddler, more than her sister. She loves it when we rock her to sleep and sing to her. My standard is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, which calmed her right down. She was falling asleep, her round little face with her fat cheeks facing up at me, the back of her head in the crux of my elbow. Cute stuff. These are the magic moments that parents remember.
BB went to sleep in the crib quickly after I set her down. Then I went into Lucy's room. This poor little girl needed some consoling. She had probably been in there a full 15 minutes.
I found her on her bed, looking up to catch my eye coming in, to promptly resume crying. She keeps a tight schedule. She was trying to get me to show some compassion, for goodness sake, and not shrug her off. She did deserve a bit of shrugging off, cause her crying wasn't completely genuine, but in this case, she was truly upset. About 70%.
(Skip to the present: she just came in from watching Diego to sit with me at the kitchen table. Wanted to listen to Yes' Roundabout. This is a rejuvenated kid, but with baggy, tired, freshly cried eyes.)
I sat down on the bed with her, as she was throwing herself at me, wanting the hugging cuddles so bad. So of course I delivered. I sat down with her and gave her a big long hug, and let her cry on me until she calmed down. The dada power is that of the Force.
We lay together on her bed, further cuddling the problems away, talking about stuff. Temptation with the possibility of watching Go Diego Go! was what got her up--the one thing that could inspire her. We walked out to the living room together.
"Do you wanna lay down on the couch and watch Diego? With a blanket and a pillow?"
"Yeah, dada," she sighed. Relief was beginning to wash over her. She had her pacifier in her mouth and everything. This girl has been yawning ever since she got up today.
The tv was on and Lucy was cuddling under the blanket. I took the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow over the pillow and over the couch arm. Went into the kitchen.
I took a juice box, the only juice we still have (we don't buy juice very much anymore), squeezed it into a big sippy cup, filled it the rest of the way with cool water, and gave it to her. For the next 15 minutes she lay there, contended and happy. Safe. Warm.
The baby was sleeping. Dada had a second to breathe. I sat down to write.
It didn't end up being short, did it?
It was the opening clip of episode four or five of season one, where there are these hands putting up flyers over one another. It was edited to be really erratic and abrasive, pretty lo-fi, and funnily angry. Let me see if I can find the clip...
In retrospect, I don't think I should have known better. Portlandia is a pretty insane show, even taking on Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! elements at times. Basically they amp up the crazy, all while keeping a pretty strict Portland/Pacific Northwest theme. It's not exactly bad for kids--the few swear words aren't paid extra attention, there's no steamy sex stuff, and no violence.
But it was the crazy element that scared Lucy. I can relate. Sometimes weird, otherworldly takes on everyday things can be really scary. If seen from the right light. I thought the sketch was hilarious, but I'm not 2.9 years old.
I had just sat down on the couch with BB and a bottle of formula. It was almost her nap time. She was tired and I wanted to give her a nice warm filling drink. I turned on the tv, cause feeding the baby a bottle is the only tv time I get during the day, and started that Portlandia episode.
Lucy came to sit on the couch next to us, and was checking out the show. When the sketch was nearing its apex at the end, Lucy just started crying all of a sudden. She put her head, turned away from the tv, on my shoulder and leaned on me, whimpering and sobbing. And I've got a baby on my lap, leaning on my chest and holding her own bottle, while I hold her.
Worried that Lucy's crying would make BB start crying, I said to Lucy, after the obligatory, 'What's wrong,' and 'It's a tv show, it's just pretend, you're gonna be fine,' "Get out of here, get off of me if you're gonna cry like that. Go into your room. Go."
That was my mistake. She did go into her room, but didn't stop crying. I continued watching the show, trying to enjoy it, feeling bad for Lucy, trying not to feel bad for Lucy, and to keep calm for the baby, who was falling asleep on me.
I noticed after a few more minutes that BB had nodded off with the bottle in her mouth, letting it drop to her chest. I took it out of her hands, which woke her up. She started crying, cause she's a baby and I just took a bottle away from her, never mind that she'd fallen asleep with it.
I carried her into our bedroom (cause she shares it with mom and I) and shut the door to drown out the crying, whimpering toddler, who probably wanted my attention more than she was actually scared. Kids get stuck in what my daycare Jedi friend Todd calls a 'crying loop.' They start crying, keep themselves crying, eventually forget why, and at that point are unable to stop.
BB is such a cuddler, more than her sister. She loves it when we rock her to sleep and sing to her. My standard is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, which calmed her right down. She was falling asleep, her round little face with her fat cheeks facing up at me, the back of her head in the crux of my elbow. Cute stuff. These are the magic moments that parents remember.
BB went to sleep in the crib quickly after I set her down. Then I went into Lucy's room. This poor little girl needed some consoling. She had probably been in there a full 15 minutes.
I found her on her bed, looking up to catch my eye coming in, to promptly resume crying. She keeps a tight schedule. She was trying to get me to show some compassion, for goodness sake, and not shrug her off. She did deserve a bit of shrugging off, cause her crying wasn't completely genuine, but in this case, she was truly upset. About 70%.
(Skip to the present: she just came in from watching Diego to sit with me at the kitchen table. Wanted to listen to Yes' Roundabout. This is a rejuvenated kid, but with baggy, tired, freshly cried eyes.)
I sat down on the bed with her, as she was throwing herself at me, wanting the hugging cuddles so bad. So of course I delivered. I sat down with her and gave her a big long hug, and let her cry on me until she calmed down. The dada power is that of the Force.
We lay together on her bed, further cuddling the problems away, talking about stuff. Temptation with the possibility of watching Go Diego Go! was what got her up--the one thing that could inspire her. We walked out to the living room together.
"Do you wanna lay down on the couch and watch Diego? With a blanket and a pillow?"
"Yeah, dada," she sighed. Relief was beginning to wash over her. She had her pacifier in her mouth and everything. This girl has been yawning ever since she got up today.
The tv was on and Lucy was cuddling under the blanket. I took the hair tie out of her hair, letting it flow over the pillow and over the couch arm. Went into the kitchen.
I took a juice box, the only juice we still have (we don't buy juice very much anymore), squeezed it into a big sippy cup, filled it the rest of the way with cool water, and gave it to her. For the next 15 minutes she lay there, contended and happy. Safe. Warm.
The baby was sleeping. Dada had a second to breathe. I sat down to write.
It didn't end up being short, did it?
No comments:
Post a Comment
I encourage comments from any and all readers. Please lay your thoughts on me.