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Thursday, January 31, 2008

Why "The Sound of Music Makes Me Cry"

I realize I'm not the only person who cries during this classic film. As I posted earlier on this blog, I've been watching this movie repeatedly lately as it's become a favorite of my lovely daughter. The moment that gets to me (and I'm assuming you've seen the movie because, uhm, who hasn't?) is shortly after they've all fallen out of the boat, when Julie Andrews starts telling the Captain what kind of people his children are.

This short conversation tells the audience that this governess who hasn't been with these children for that long recognizes the personalities and emotional needs of these kids better than their own father. And this is why he falls in love with her. He'd become emotionally removed from his children and this woman came into his home, told them who they were and enabled him to see them as people. She was able to meet their emotional needs and in so doing, met his needs as well.

This affects me because I like to think I'm the sort of person who can meet people's emotional needs. Not everybody can. Some people are great business people, athletes, comediens, teachers. They do their best to meet the needs of the people in their lives and they do okay, but they're not as good at it as other people. I've met C's needs, I've tried to meet the needs of all three of his children. For the most part, I think I've succeeded.

And still he doesn't appreciate it. He thinks nothing of the fact that Eliza is such a happy, confident, fully loving child. He doesn't even notice what I've done or tried to do for his older kids. Instead he focuses on the cleanliness of the house, the fact that my presence costs him money, that I don't cook for him and his older kids (they're vegetarians and very picky) enough.

I only want to be loved for who I am. Not picked on for what I'm not. There is value in being a caring, compassionate, considerate person. I'm am not just some loser without a job.

Julie Andrews plays a former nun. He loves her because she's a kind person. I want to be loved because I'm a good person and a good mother as well.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Sick Mama

Lucky me, I seem to have contracted a milder but still very uncomfortable form of the stomach flu that afflicted Eliza last week.  I'm not puking but my stomach but I'm experiencing almost unbearable nausea and last night I had a fever and chills.  So far this morning, it seems the nausea has decreased and I feel a little stronger but I don't feel capable to sit up for long periods of time.

I got a job yesterday.  It doesn't pay but it'll give me magazine writing experience.  I'm thrilled that I made it through the interview yesterday.  I felt okay while we were sitting there but when we stood up, suddenly I really thought I'd keel over.  Then my new boss paraded me through the office to meet and greet my new co-workers which was a study in stamina for me.  I hope I didn't pass along this dreadful parasite to these poor unsuspecting people.  

I'm resting now while C entertains Eliza.  Hopefully I'll feel well enough later on today to make the short trip to my mother's with Eliza.  I'm terrified about passing this bug on so I might wait a day.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Sick Baby Better

I suppose my girl is no longer a baby but at two, I think I won't get lynched for referring to my daughter as my baby.  She suddenly got sick Thursday afternoon.  She'd been battling a cold all week but shortly after 4pm on Thursday, she erupted into a miserable heap of girl with an inexplicable stomach ailment.  She hadn't eaten much on Wednesday or Thursday but as she's a scatty toddler with almost daily food preference changes, I thought nothing of it.  Around 3pm, as she and I cuddled on the bed together, she said "My tummy is so full."

I suspected a stomach ache but was still ridiculously surprised when the effect of that full tummy hurled into view.  I spent the better part of the evening cleaning the floor and calming her down with her favorite "moobie."  As the hills came alive with "The Sound of Music" Eliza danced and jumped around like her typical self.  Eliza's always been a bit of a puker and I once described her as "happy, happy, happy--with vomit."  

She fell asleep in my arms Thursday night, a little thing that still felt supremely satisfying for me.  I felt like I could've easily sat with her in our rocking chair for hours, feeling her chest rise and fall against mine.  She slept through the night but was cranky, whiny and generally in bad spirits on Friday.  We spent the majority of Friday on the couch in front of the same "Little Einsteins" dvd (I think Julie Andrews may have worn out her welcome).  I felt a bit like a deadbeat Mom but I was rather exhausted, fighting off nausea myself, and determined to keep her as happy as possible.  She was hungry but I've been down this road before.  Eliza's always hungry much sooner than she's ready to eat.  So I held her off for the day on Friday, easing her discomfort with water, crackers and a little bit of grapes.  I know grapes are hardly what the doctor ordered but she kept screaming for them so I gave her two.  When those stayed down, I offered her three more.

She fell asleep in my arms again Friday night and woke up Saturday without a fever.  She still seemed out of sorts--a trip to a local indoor playground didn't bring out the energy or interaction it usually does.  She seemed content to sit on the floor and watch other kids play.  She didn't even put up a fight when it was time to go.  She went down for her nap painlessly and woke up, jumping, laughing and back to being my energetic, spirited little girl.

It's so hard when Eliza is sick but so wonderful to see her better.  It's like she has a new appreciation for her little body and all it can do.  As I changed her diaper this morning, I started to kiss her tummy.  She squealed with delight and gently pushed me away.  I sat up only to see her hold out her arms to me and say "kiss me."

So I did.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Heath

On the subway last night, I made note of a conversation between two twenty-something men who sported a bohemian appearance.  One man, in a full-length oversized black coat spoke through the bars separating the platform from those who paid and those who didn't.  The other man wore an extra-large army green coat and huge, black, motorcycle boots.

Black coat man: "He did that homosexual movie and that violated his spirit.  He played gay and the spiritual side of hisself felt trespassed on and couldn't handle it so he killed himself.  He got a little girl and she's not going to know her Daddy, just that gay movie."

I wrote down these remarks because I found their proud bigotry amusing.  I assumed they were talking about Brad Renfro, the young actor discovered in the movie "The Client" who'd recently been found dead from a possible drug overdose.  I'm not familiar with Renfro's film repertoire, it's possible he portayed a gay man at some point.

I was sickened when I got home to find out they were discussing Heath Ledger.  I don't know Heath Ledger, have never even worked with some one who worked with Heath Ledger and yet I'm thoroughly sickened and depressed.  He was 28-years-old with the whole world in front of him.  He was successful, fairly intelligent it seemed and willing to take risks in his career.  It's horrifying to think that some one with that much going for him would be dead before the age of 30.

I imagine I'm even more saddened by the fact that Ledger left behind a little girl similar to Eliza's age.  That poor little girl is going to grow up and never know her Daddy.  Worse, she might hear people say ridiculous things like I heard on the subway last night as they watch the movie that brought him an Oscar nomination.  From anything I've read, it seemed Ledger was a loving, doting Dad.  That poor little girl has been denied a kind and caring father.  

Daddies are important to their little girls, no matter what their ages.  Whatever I may think of C, I am so glad my daughter has a Daddy who loves her.  

Heath Ledger was apparently named after the character in "Wuthering Heights."  I'll confess to never having read that book (what kind of a writer are you?  My 10th grade English teacher had us read "Green Mansions" instead) but I know it's a tragedy.  Unfortunately, now Heath Ledger's story is a tragedy as well.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

For My Hair

I'm having a bad mama day which isn't too unlike a bad hair day.  I can't seem to muster the patience to slag through the tedium of household maintenance.  And just in case I didn't feel guilty enough, my poor little girl has a cold and really needs her Mama.  

I'm starting a class tonight so a lot of what I'd get done here later has to be done now.  C will be home tonight with his two older kids so I have to cook dinner for three vegetarians.  I'm moodier on the nights I have to cook for them because it's extremely difficult to choose and prepare a meal for five people with radically different food preferences.  Although I like to cook, I always get a bad case of the guilts when I'm stuck in the kitchen for an hour or so with Eliza on the floor, begging for attention.  Today, I'd bought her new crayons so she sat on the kitchen floor and repeatedly showed me the "pictures" she drew.  I oohed and ahhed with vigor, hoping my enthusiasm for her scribbles would feel like quality time for my daughter.

In the midst of dinner preparations, I prepared lunch for both Eliza and myself but she was more interested in dancing around then sitting down to eat with me.  Then it was time to clean up the mess in the kitchen from lunch, dinner prep and an hour of crayola highjinks.  Fortunately, that stuff does come off walls.  

The kitchen clean, the crayons and various other toys that were scattered across the floor now put away, I looked at the clock and realized it was Eliza's nap time.  Unfortunately, Eliza didn't agree.  She kept asking for the barrettes I'd bought "for my hair."  She'd been playing with them and now we couldn't find them.  I emptied baskets in her closet, looked in the purse, the bucket and the pans she'd been playing with but it proved a useless mission.  I have yet to locate these four multicolored barrettes Eliza so desperately needs in order to lie down for a much needed nap.  

I put her down in the crib but she screamed in protest.  I left the room, knowing she's more likely to sleep if I don't hover.  With her cold, her afternoon tumbling class and C and the kids the guardians for the night, she really needs this nap.  The screaming stopped and I found myself thinking good thoughts.

However, her tiny voice still sounds, with alarming monotony "for my hair.  For my hair."  She wants those barrettes.  I honestly have no idea where they are.  My daughter is extremely head strong--she might fall asleep, she might not.  Either way, I'm going to be hearing about these barrettes for the rest of my natural life.

Or at least until the end of this week.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Things to do in 2008

Since I already spend a good deal of time with my darling daughter, my goal this January is to spend more quality time with my girl.  At age 2, Eliza is quite headstrong and demanding.  If she doesn't want to go out, she kicks as I put on her pants or fights getting into her jacket.  Much of the time we spend together is with me, practically in tears, begging her to let me put her in the stroller.  I also seem to spend too much time cleaning, cooking, yapping on the phone.  Every day I vow to make sure she and I spend more fun together.  Some days I'm more successful than others.

I really hope to find some kind of work outside the home that utilizes my creativity.  I might take the plunge and direct my short film, work harder to pursue freelance writing options or look closely at different graduate school programs.  As Eliza eases further into her independence, I find myself starving for more adult interaction.  

I'm done evaluating my situation with C.  Although he's trying as hard as he can and I'll admit to being a pretty difficult person to be with, I'm done.  It's tough to break up a family, especially an extended family with siblings who love my daughter.  I don't feel loved here.  We have no plans to get married and in the end, I'm an old-fashioned girl.  I don't believe in forcing a marriage that shouldn't happen.  But I don't want my daughter to grow up thinking that marriage isn't worth striving for.

Dance With Me Mama

Shortly after Christmas, Eliza watched the Julie Andrews version of "The Sound of Music" for the first time.  And she loved, it, loved it, loved it.  The following day, she picked up the dvd case for "The Sound of Music" and said "Watch Moobie?"   We tried to pop in a little "South Pacific" for variety but Eliza made her choice clear.  She tossed the "South Pacific" case aside and picked up Julie Andrews in her nun finery, spinning atop the hills of Austria.  

And as Julie Andrews taught the Von Trapp children to sing, in the hills of Austria, she's taught my daughter to sing.  We wake up to Eliza singing "Doe a Deer" and "So Long."  She doesn't enjoy the dialogue portions of the movie, just the songs, particularly the songs that feature the children.  The other night, as I got her ready for bed, Eliza looked at me, smoothed down her pajama bottoms and said "I'm sixteen, going on sebenteen."  (In case you don't get it, Eliza hasn't mastered the V sound just yet.)

The other night, as we watched the movie for the umpteenth time, when Julie and Christopher Plummer dance the Austrian folk dance together, Eliza stood up and said "Dance with me Mama."  Grabbing onto my extended forefingers, we "waltzed" across our living room.  It looked more like a version of ring around the rosie, with the two of us spinning in a circle.  I felt like falling, I got so dizzy.  But that moment of dancing with my daughter, one of the best in my life.