Teeny Manolo

I’ve been staring at this picture for a long time now, and I can’t decide if this should be categorized under “The Cuteness Abounds” or “That’s  Just Wrong.”

What say you? 

One has a limited tolerance, one does, for spoiled Hollywood stars who insist on collecting their own United Nations of Benetton and then changing the children’s names, particularly when the child is old enough to come when she’s called.

One has, however, no tolerance whatsoever for fools who adopt children, then send them back after seven years, once the parents have their own biological children. What is this, re-gifting?

He’s a professional diplomat? This doesn’t sound very diplomatic to me! From the Guardian:

A Dutch couple living in Hong Kong yesterday found themselves at the centre of an international controversy after they gave up their daughter for adoption seven years after they adopted her themselves.

Raymond Poeteray, 55, who has worked as a Dutch diplomat for more than 20 years, and his wife, Meta, adopted Jade, an ethnic Korean girl, when she was four months old…

A spokesman for the South Korean consulate in Hong Kong said the couple had found it difficult to raise the little girl because of “culture shock”.

“[The Poeterays] now have their own children,” the spokesman said. “They decided it was difficult to raise [Jade] because of cultural shock. They said she’s not willing to eat their food. That’s one of the reasons. It’s a strange reason. She was raised from a very early age. It’s a very uncommon case. It’s a difficult situation for us to understand.”

Why, yes, it would be. Given that she’s been with the couple since she was four months old, it’s difficult to understand why she or they or, indeed, anyone at all would be undergoing culture shock at this late date. As for fussy eaters, if they think it’s a problem confined to Korean adoptees, they’ve got a rude awakening ahead, no?

For some, the 80’s bring back horrible memories of bad hair bands, neon, suspenders, and shoulder pads.  For others, the decade demanded immortalization- and what better way to do it than through the plastic and (allegedly) vapid medium of Barbies?

Dynasty’s Alexis Carrington manages to look bitchy, even as a Barbie.

Only the cool kids can appreciate the nod to  Robert Palmer.

The Barbie for those who just can’t get enough of Bob Mackie- the Cher era.

The Material Girl, true 80’s icon.  

And finally, Goth Barbie. To placate the complainers down in the comments, I will change her to “Goth Barbie Lite”.  But where is her Sony Walkman with The Cure mixtape inside?

Does this one satisfy your requirements for angst?  She looks like she’s about to eat someone. It’s a Barbie, so without melting and rearranging her face, she’s going to have a smile.  Perhaps she just scored some tickets to The Smiths?

Tori, since it seems to be cold enough for a scarf, hat and to have your own legs securely covered, why not make sure your son’s are too? A blankie might be in order, although at that age, they sometimes try to throw the blanket off just to see the parental reaction of horror that the blanket has been dragging on the dirty pavement.  So I sort of understand.  Sort of.

On one hand, I thoroughly enjoy any chance I can get to look at cute little baby legs.  On the other, I keep wondering how cold those wee bare patches of exposed skin are getting.   

My maternal instinct makes me want to hunt them down on that sidewalk and throw one of the Munchkin’s old baby blankets on him.  As I fight my way through the paparazzi, I’ll shove it at her and say, “It’s not that expensive, it can drag all over creation, I don’t care!  Legs that cute deserve to be covered!  I know that goes against everything you’ve learned in Hollywood, but fight it Tori, fight it!”

And as they are carting me away in handcuffs, at least I will know that somewhere out there, a child’s legs are warm because of me. 

Hark to the beautiful, bountiful baritone of Dylan Thomas, y’all, reading his own Christmas classic, A Child’s Christmas in Wales. So, which part is your favorite? I’ve got a weakness for the “junior firemen” and their prompt, enthusiastic action in the face of a rather dramatic turning point in the narrative.

(not exactly Wordless for Wednesday, am I? Oh well, I always was a contrarian!)

Got some last-minute gift shopping to do, but on the cheap? Then this list is for you.

Aqua Doodle Kit

Magnetic Dress-Up Set

Puppytunes

Magic School Bus Body Kit

Spiral Draw

Hop Along Horsie

100 Piece Block Set

Deluxe Chef Set

Honey Bee Tree

IlluStory

moar funny pictures

Ah, the great traditions of the holiday season. The roasted turkey! The Christmas tree! The dazzling lights! The shopping!

The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre reading A Christmas Carol.

and Part II, which comes with an F-word warning, but is worth watching nonetheless.

Seriously, it’s way better this way. Hard to think of a dull “classic” that couldn’t be improved by being performed crazy karaoke-style by a pair of Hebridean socks (not Argyle, strangely). I can hardly wait till they get started on The Wasteland!

Let me tell you, there is nothing like having your parenting choices out there for all the world to see.  Although I would love to provide you with more facts and reasons as to why my son doesn’t do his homework, I realize that no matter what I say, I will not change people’s minds.  And that’s ok.  While reading everyone’s well-stated opinions, I remembered something from the Munchkin’s early days.

The Munchkin had colic.  Horrible colic (is there any other kind?) that would keep him literally screaming at all hours of the day and night.  Nothing we did helped.  The doctor informed us of a few home remedies, then basically told us we were screwed on our own.

Holding him helped the most. He wanted to be held all the time. And so that led to us both gently rocking in my chair while he slept during the day and co-sleeping at night. 

My family and friends knew about this situation, and they shook their heads knowingly and said, “Oh Glinda, you are setting yourself up for some big problems in the future.  Let him cry it out and sleep by himself, it’s better that way.”

And so I listened to what they had to say. How could I not?  They were my friends and family, with only good intentions.  One night, I decided that I would let him try to fall asleep by himself.  I left him in the crib, and he cried and cried, and it was the worst thing I had ever heard. The cry was one of feeling alone and abandoned, not one of hunger or discomfort.  I steeled myself, reminding myself that everyone said this was the right thing to do.

As I listened to him cry, the wrongness of it caused me actual physical pain.  I questioned the prevailing wisdom, as I personally had no problem holding him while he slept. In fact, I enjoyed feeling his weight and watching his sweet face as he slumbered.  I wondered why I was listening to everyone else, when I was the one that knew him best, his quirks and likes and dislikes.  It was then and there in the hallway outside his room that I my epiphany occurred. When I felt so strongly about something, I would respectfully go my own way.  I would take facts into account and carefully weigh them, but if in the end I knew deep down that it was wrong for us, I vowed not to do it.  No matter how many people told me I was crazy.

I was warned that I had made a dire mistake, that I would be dealing with sleep problems forever and ever, that I was scarring him emotionally.  I heard it all.  I didn’t care.  What I was doing felt right to me.

And you know what?  I followed the path that worked for us as a family, and eventually got him used to falling asleep on his own by the age of three.  It was not a sudden decision, but a process, because my son does best that way.  And I know that because I am his Mom.  Now, he falls asleep on his own, sleeps all night long, and never protests going to bed.  I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m not.  He is a perfect sleeper.

My critics? They have nothing to say to that, because their advice? It was wrong.  It wasn’t wrong in a literal sense, but it was wrong for me and for him.  Are there babies that can easily fall asleep on their own?  Of course, it’s just that mine wasn’t one of them.  I could tell you other stories about how I went “against the grain” and how it turned out perfectly fine, but this is already getting too long. 

That situation taught me the best lesson I could have learned as a parent, to listen to my intuition more.  Too often, parents are bombarded with information from books, magazines, television, and countless other sources.  Some of them have your best interests in mind, some of them don’t.  It is so difficult to sift through all of that, especially a new parent who is having doubts about their ability to do anything right.   By all means, read and watch and listen. However, it may be none or all or only a certain combination of things that works for you and your child.

But in the end, I have learned that my gut instinct is almost always right.  As long as what you are doing is not harmful, the best gift you can give yourself is to listen to you inner voice.  We as parents know our child best.  Period.  There is no one-size-fits-all way to parent, and don’t believe anyone who tells you there is. 

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. And no, I didn’t rent some crazy cabin out in the woods to write this.

Awesome Mom Says:
December 7th, 2007 at 4:13 pm A young Manolo started crying when he noticed that Santa
was wearing a floral print shirt with striped stockings.

Ah yes, I’m a sucker for an inside joke. Congrats to Awesome Mom! Here are your honorary shoes for the imaginary ceremony: