Enough with the TV Already, UGH!
Here’s why I’m kind of full of it (and “it” stands for “BS” which stands for “BALONEY SAUSAGE” which stands for “nonsense”). At least I was full of nonsense when it came to TV watching.
When I was a new mom to Gloria 15 years ago I was determined to ensure she had virgin eyes and didn’t stare at a TV for hours on-end. I wanted her to look at art, flowers, my face, beautiful blocks, leaves, snow, good food, etc. etc. But TV? Not my kid! At the time, I was annoyed that a close friend of mine was on a campaign to convince me that Baby Einstein videos were so important for new babies to watch because: Einstein. Who doesn’t want their baby to be as whip smart as good old Albert? (Yeah because babies watching TV will make that happen…and probably Albert spent a good deal of time in his crib watching movies. I mean, c’mon people…)
But I didn’t buy into it. I didn’t want to plop my baby in front of a TV so I could get stuff done. Although looking back I probably could have used the help because I spent many late nights awake at 2:00 am trying to get on top of everything as a Super Single Mama. In case you’re not quite sure what a Super Single Mama is, here’s the working definition: A Super Single Mama is a mother who does not have a partner, husband, boyfriend, ex-husband or anyone to help her carry the load of parenting. I did not have every other weekend off of parenting. There was no “dad” for Gloria. There were no child support checks coming in. It was me and me. And also me. I was the only parent every single day, every single hour, every single year. Year after year.
(Truth be told I bristle when friends complain about being a “single parent” because they’re not only getting every Thursday and every other weekend OFF of parenting to get a break, but they’re also receiving money from their child’s other parent so I find it challenging to drum up a lot of sympathy for their situation.)
Nipples: Let’s discuss.
I was taking a bath when I was like 8 and my dear sweet mother came in to check on me and saw me squeezing my poor little nipple buds so hard they were purpling. She said such a confusing thing, “Oh honey, milk won’t come from those until you have a baby.”
My girl brain answered in my head, “Um, I wasn’t trying to extract milk, I was doing a commercial in the tub (like everyone does for the bubble bath) and making my nipples really dark by squeezing them super hard and then submerging under the water, letting go of my death nipple grip to show home viewers how this particular bubble bath actually reduces nipple stress and helps your nipples return to their natural non-purpled state.”
Aloud I said, “Moooom!”
The next time I paid real close attention to my nipples (much like you are now) was during that strange winter of preteening when I seemed to only have exceptionally pointy nipples and extremely tardy breasts.
The breasts were very late.
“You Look Like A…”
You guys…I started to write this story down and then I decided I’d just tell it, storyteller style.
It is about something Gloria said to a stranger when she was 4 and I had to decide what to do about it. But telling this story in a video blog (a “vlog”) of this ilk is new to me. I’m a writer. I’m also a storyteller. I’m also obnoxious. So maybe it all fits.
I have to say…the video took 4 minutes whereas an entire blog would probably have taken me a lot longer. And I have a wicked headache, so vlogging it is!
Here’s this funny story I’ll tell on video…wait for the punchline…it is totally worth it: Read More