Irony

Posted on | January 19, 2012 | 4 Comments

Foxtrot and I took the day off today. And by “took the day off” I mean we wore our jammies into the afternoon and made it a point to not actually do much of anything. It felt good.

After his First Breakfast, Foxy cut out a paper snowflake and almost removed a digit in the process. He also pulled apart a stack of neon Post-it Notes and ate a bowl of cherries — describing each pit in precise detail as he spit it into the discard bowl.

(He’s four, and one of his chief joys in life revolves around saying “potty” words. I’ll leave it at that.)

Meanwhile, I un-subscribed from a few blogs that make me feel bad (with their shiny happy story lines and perfectly styled photos).

Give me beauty and give me inspiration, yes. . . but please give me a little glimpse of your reality so that I know you’re human, too.

Then I decided to exfoliate with a homemade body scrub. Free DIY Tip: if you mix sea salt and olive oil, you’re halfway to homemade playdough. Which is now what my shower smells like.

And also me.

Sniff. Sniff. Is that bruschetta I smell? No, it’s just my arm.

Riiight. . .

When I got back downstairs, Foxy was watching TV. Lots of folks have their guilty pleasure show. For some, it’s Toddlers and Tiaras. Foxy’s guilty pleasure is Caillou. It’s a guilty pleasure because Foxy’s older brother and sister have always shunned Caillou, and Foxy doesn’t want them to know that he actually likes Caillou.

According to Tango, Caillou talks like a baby and “has a bad attitude.”

I may actually be responsible for this animosity. Caillou irritates the fool out of me. And has for over a decade. Ever since TM was at Fort Benning for his initial Army training and we were living in the ‘hood and Mel Gibson was filming We Were Soldiers on post. I babysat for two little neighbor girls and it was at their house that I first saw Caillou.

I think Tango’s also bothered by the fact that Caillou’s never had hair — or more specifically, no reason is ever given for his lack of hair. And I can’t explain it. I recall having a similar issue with Charlie Brown — back when Peanuts specials came on just once a year.

When Bravo was little and we were living overseas, his favorite show was the Wiggles. It came on AFN (Armed Forces Network) and during commercial breaks, we’d watch public service announcements instead of ads for diapers or DVDs promising to teach your baby to read in seven days.

TM came back from his first deployment and making fun of the Wiggles helped us reconnect as a couple and work through our issues. Love, war… and the Wiggles. In a way, I’m grateful to those guys.

TM and I talk endlessly after a deployment. (OK, I talk. He listens.) And after that first deployment (oh, so many years ago) one of our conversations revolved around “which Wiggle would you be. . .” and “which Wiggle would you make out with?” If you must know, I’ll take the blue Wiggle.

Children’s TV programming: it seems so hard to get it right. Maybe because I’m an adult and I enjoy irony? And there’s a distinct lack of irony in kids’ TV.

So we invent our own. Including a violent remix of the Caillou theme song that TM made up where things end badly for Caillou.

See? Irony.

And the real Caillou song? Someday soon, it won’t play in our house anymore. And I don’t think I’ll be sad about that. I’ll miss my kids when they are grown and gone. But I won’t miss kiddie TV.

Will Caillou still be running on TV ten years from now, when my “kid who’s four/each day he grows some more” is fourteen years old?

My guess?

YES.

Gulp.

The small boy who’s napping upstairs? I want to practice letting him go in small ways now. . . so that when he (and his brother and sister) head into the world, I’m not hiding in the fetal position under the dining room table, looking at baby pictures and drinking out of a bottle of Seagram’s.

While Foxtrot’s sleeping, I need to go clean the shower.

I’m thinking that a spray bottle with white vinegar will do the trick. I’m concerned that my shower will then smell like salad dressing, but it works really well. I’ll open a window. . . it’ll all air out, right?

Tonight I’ll dream of bathtubs filled with salad greens. . . dancing Wiggles and cartoon characters in BDUs.

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