This is Your Brain

I was reminded the other day of that immortal "This is your brain...this is your brain on drugs" fried egg commercial.


Not because I was on drugs -- or hungry -- though that is a near-constant state of being for me. The hungry part, not the on drugs part.


No, my brain was in quite a muddled state, but it was brought on by something far more insidious than drugs. It was induced by none other than the umpteenth repetition of Lily's "Toddler Sing-a-Long Songs" CD. "The Old Grey Mare," "Big Rock Candy Mountains," "Turkey in the Straw" and 47 other "sure to make your child smile sunnily!" songs. On this particular CD, all the songs are sung by a rarely harmonious, almost never melodious yet always high-pitched choir of children.


From their mouths to God's ears. Methinks God may be a teensey bit tone deaf.


Was that a bolt of lightning out there?


Seriously, I'm a big supporter of exposing children to music, all kinds of music. Lily's even been enrolled in her pre-school's weekly Opus One music "experience" class for two years already, and her instruments include a harmonica, recorder, maracas, tambourine and acoustic guitar (her request for her 4th birthday present).


Lily also owns more CDs at age 4 than I did by age 30, including a very special one that her Gammy and Papa burned for her birthday. They even made cover art for the jewel case. Unfortunately, the vast majority of said CDs have been at Justin's (her natural father, for the uninitiated) for far too long now. For the last eight months, Justin's lived upwards of 200 miles away, and so Lily's visits to her dad are less frequent than they used to be. But I try to stock up on the CDs for the long trips there and back. Alas, the last journey, she came home sans CDs. So I've been stuck with just a few choices to play over and over since that time. I'm yearning for the broader selection, and think another trip to daddy's must be forthcoming soon, if for no other reason than to retrieve the CDs.


So this is just all really a too-long build up for me to share some of my personal favorite parent tolerable pre-school tunage. You'll notice that most of my kudos will be going to Austin musicians - not only do they crank out really good adult music here, but they do all right by the kiddos as well.

1) The Grandaddy of them all and my favorite: "Mommy Says No" by the Asylum Street Spankers. http://www.asylumstreetspankers.com/ This ensemble of enormously talented and versatile musicians spreads their wings in original children's songs with kid-friendly titles like "Boogers," "Superfrog," and the title track, a great introduction for kids to the punk rock genre.


2) "Songs to Howl at the Moon By" http://www.pokeypup.com/600054104022.html - This original collection includes the fabulous lyrics of "In the Castle" by Matt the Electrician and the very catchy "Jump, Shake Your Booty" by Austin superstar Bob Schneider.


3) "Newborn" by Sara Hickman. http://www.sarahickman.com/music/newborn/OK, as its name suggests, this one isn't quite for the preschool set but is just an absolutely de riguer for baby showers, new moms, etc... Hickman's voice is amazingly soothing. Yes, I might be a bit partial because she has a song titled "Lily," but most of my fellow Austin moms also consider this one a must own.


4) "Everybody Plays Air Guitar" by Joe McDermott. http://www.joemcdermottmusic.com/shop/shop.php Kids music with a higher "cool" factor. Very listenable. Good live show as well.


5) "Kids Rock for Peas" or "The Electric Storyland" by The Sippy Cups. http://www.thesippycups.com/sippyhome/05sippy.html This mix of originals (on the latter) and covers from bands like The Beatles, Pink Floyd and The Ramones (on the former) is summed up best by an unnamed reviewer on the Sippy Cups Web site: "Put the Tylenol away. Barney is not in the house."


6) "Daddies Sing Good Night" http://music.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?ean=15891382128&z=y With folksy/country/bluegrass style, this collection includes songs from artists like Doc Watson, Townes Van Zandt and the imitable Leon Redbone. Sweet, warm and rich. Kind of like the musical version of hot chocolate.

Enjoy!

Television Tales

Arriving home from another blessedly media-free day at school the other day, Lily plopped on the couch and promptly asked, "Can I watch Hannah Montana?"

I don't know why I was so surprised, since Hannah is the biggest cultural phenomenom for toddlers to tweens since, well, since I don't know when. Her query caught me offguard though, since I never remembered exposing her to the show. Of course, when it comes to television, there's not much I remember.

I am completely lost when it comes to "Lost", couldn't name a single of the "Heroes" and don't know whether "Grey's Anatomy" is male or female. And don't even ask me to rattle off all the "CSI" cities. Although I do know there's A LOT of them.

When I was pregnant, I was well prepared for the idea that something would give when I had Lily. Most people suggested it would be, or should be, housework.

But the anal-retentive/obsessive-compulsive/Martha Stewart side of me really hasn't been able to grasp hold of the idea that I can let (laundry, toys, dust, dishes) stack up to 3-feet high and not bat an eye. So, instead, what I largely gave up was television. Oh sure, I still derive guilty pleasure from the occassional viewing of "Desperate Housewives," but even that isn't with Metamucil-like regularity

Since Lily was born, I've become acutely aware of how much Americans' daily lives revolve around pop culture, television in particular. There are entire segments of my morning radio show devoted to dissecting the previous night's episodes of the most popular shows. Scores of faces stare back at me from the magazine racks in airport terminals and other stores, but with increasing frequency, I don't recognize the faces.

It amazes me how much television has changed since I last watched more than a couple hours a week. The preponderance of reality shows is astounding. I for one, see no need to watch a reality show since living with a four-year old is quite real enough. Come to think of it, I can't see why Hollywood hasn't come up with the idea of filming a reality show at a daycare. There would be plenty of general fodder for a show, and they could even give it a catchy title like "The Real Children of the Houswives of Orange County."

But while adult oriented televion continues to devolve, IMHO , children's programming, has, by and large, evolved quite positively from my youth. Nothing quite beats the visual humor of Wil E. Coyote falling off the cliff yet again, but intellectually, emotionally and morally stimulating shows like Dora the Explorer and Dragon Tales really do take the cake from a mom's perspective.

I feel certain many television battles with my daughter await me in the future. "But Mom, Casey's dad let her watch Saw 4!" But in the meantime, I take heart in knowing her requests are a bit more innocent in nature.

"Yes, Lily, you can watch Hannah Montana." Now, if only Mommy can figure out how to work the remote.

Watch This & The Princess Diaries 2

Watch this. Now watch this. Watch THIS!

This mantra from the weekend was brought on by none other than "The Grandparent Visit." In this case, it was Grandpa Pete and Grandma Joey, but any set of grandparents are liable to signal another rendition of the "Watch This" chorus.

Whether it's swinging "really super high" on the swing, or doing any one of 37 different jumps on the trampoline, or turning upside down on the trapeze rings, or counting to 50, every action (and reaction, it seems) deserves their rapt attention.

Or so thinks Lily.

I swear in front of judge and jury that Lily is not otherwise attention starved, but you wouldn't know it whenever a grand-parental unit is in town. She's always been a bit of a performer, even without the benefit of the larger audience. But when they arrive, it's as if the stage lights have been flipped on, the curtain opens, and "It's showtime!"

The always-wondering-in-the-back-of-my-mind-whether-I'm-mothering-the-right-way side of me questions whether all the praise she receives in return for the "Watch This"-es will send her self-esteem rocketing into the dreaded high-and-mighty territory. But the side of me that enjoys her unbounded enthusiasm at performing usually trumps the worrisome side.

I suppose if she really does strike it big someday and become a diva surrounded by paparrazi, I can console myself with thinking she will be able to support my retirement in style on some tropical beach.

On another note, I felt compelled to report on the princess party for which I attended this past weekend. It was quite tolerable actually. There was no Bud Light, but Sierra Nevada pale ale was supplied. There was a moment of irony at the beginning of the party, when Lily, arrayed in her Cinderella costume, immediately headed to the birthday gir's play kitchen and picked up a mop.

Then of course there was an interesting turn of events when the Cinderella character the parents hired turned out instead to be a woman billing herself as Sinderella. Seems THAT princess normally does bachelor parties.

Lest anyone think that really happened, I will assure you it didn't, but several parents and I stood around contemplating the possibilities of such an occurrence.

Thanks to my friend Cheryl, who sent me the following comic last week. I thought it was quite timely and appropriate so am including it here.

To Bottle and Seal Forever

6:34 a.m. Lily crawls into my bed after she has waved Peter off to work. Climbing on my belly she softly says, "I love you still."

"I always love you," I immediately reply.

A brief pause follows. And then I hear, "We love together always."

The Princess Diaries

This Saturday I will attend the 2nd of what will ultimately be three birthday parties this month. At least I hope the count stops at three. It is only mid-month, and there's still room for more invites to pop up in Lily's school cubby.

Three 3-year old girls turning 4 years old. The party is of course, a Princess themed party, as are the vast majority of 4-year old girls' birthday parties. And Lily will don her Cinderella dress and probably demand to wear her stick on earrings and plastic, open-toed sandals with the 1/2 inch heel.

I for one, will wear my plastered on Princess party smile, which I fear is probably beginning to look a bit plastic as well.

I "get" the princess thing, I do. Pretty ballgowns, pretty hair, magical castles and handsome princes with whom to live happily ever after. What's not to like?

I fully realize there are MANY answers to that question, but I'm not going to go there right now.

I'm not one of those moms who thinks their impressionable daughter would be better served by attending a Hillary for president campaign rally. Well, she might be, but Lily is four after all. And four might be a bit young to instill feminist sensibilities in her.

It does however, seem like the "right" age for a girl to pretend, to imagine, to wonder, and to forge a belief in happily ever after. Life will test that belief many times over in her future. If I can forestall that day and bring her happiness by taking her to yet another princess party, I will gladly do so.

Of course, there will still be a teensy tiny part of me at the party hoping that Prince Charming will make an appearance in the form of a 12-oz Bud Light.

Quick Quip #1

The other evening, Lily and Peter were engaged in a rather extensive conversation about exactly which of the 153 possible shows on the Kid's Preschool on Demand Lily wanted to watch. After discussing (and eliminating) approximately 120 of said options, Peter turned to her and said, "Lily, you drive me crazy."

At which point Lily retorted, "I can't drive!"

A sigh of relief and more on the name

Whew! I published my first blog post. Now, I guess I need to put my PR skills to work and promote it so that people will read it.

As a quick follow up, I thought I'd take just a minute to give some background on the name of my blog. I think the following should suffice:

monsoon (n): Wind in the general atmosphere, typified by a seasonally persistent wind direction and by a pronounced change in the direction from one season to another.

Momsoon (n): a state of being typifying female parent of child or children characterized by seasonally persistent behavior and by profound changes in said behavior from one season to the next

Peanut Butter and the Four Major Food Groups

My four-year old daughter Lily doesn't like peanut butter. This mystifies me. There are things about motherhood that are SUPPOSED to be hard (97.246% of the time is the latest average, I'm told). But feeding your child peanut butter when it's already 7 p.m. and you haven't had time to shop or cook isn't on the "hard" list.

Peanut butter in fact, was one of the four major food groups for me as a child, the other three being bologna, mac & cheese, and Oreos dunked in milk. I still don't understand those Oreo twister types. Peanut butter was the lunchbox standard of most of the kids in my school, with the only variant being whether someone had jelly, butter, or that glorious marshmallow fluff - yum! - on theirs.

Lest anyone start to disparage my own mother for her cooking skills, or apparent lack thereof, stop right now. My mom, truth be told, was a very good cook, and her repertoire extended well beyond the bolmacORpeanbut standards. Some of my best memories from my own childhood are inexticably intertwined with food. I'll never forget how she used to pick my little brother and me up from school on half days, take us home to a lunch of hot dogs, mac & cheese and peas, and then shuttle us to a matinee movie, clutching greasy brown lunch bags filled with homemade popcorn that we brought in ourselves.

Like any mom, it's important for me to imprint lasting, positive memories on Lily, and it seems one of the obvious ways to do that is through food. Things like making from-scratch, hand decorated cakes on her birthday or making sure the few cold nights we get here in Austin are accompanied by a steaming (for me) and tepid (for Lily) mugs of hot chocolate.

Come to think of it, I guess I can make food memories without the aid of peanut butter. But thank goodness she likes mac & cheese.