Lights! Camera! Action!...Wiggles!

As a treat, we thought it was a great idea to get tickets to the Wiggles show and take the boy there as a surprise. After breakfast, we just got in the car, and when he asked where we're going, told him we're going to a "surprise show". At the Nokia theatre downtown, he didn't get it yet. There were no blatant banners or signs, so I give him credit. Once we get there, it is kid madness. Toddlers running around with all their Wiggles crap (hats, light-up batons, Dorothy the Dinosaur hats and roses, Wiggles backpacks, Wiggles t-shirts) but he doesn't quite get it. Then we go into the theatre and bad planning had us sitting in our seats for almost 40 minutes until the show starts. Then once again, we've planned poorly. "I want a hotdog" Well, you can have some popcorn, this kind of old orange, and raisins in my bag. I want a hotdog. The sign says all-beef. That doesn't mean Kosher (most hotdogs have dairy in them, so he can't have them). I run around to the concession stand. "Are your hotdogs Kosher?" "They're all -beef" "I know. That doesn't mean they're Kosher. Is there someone you can ask?" Manager walks by. Worker: "Hey, are the hotdogs Kosher?" "They're all -beef." Great. No answer. Seriously, there were quite a few Orthodox Jews sitting around us. I survey and see if any of them are eating the hotdog. I kid you not. I'm looking in the hands of every orthodox Jew and look to see if they're carrying a hotdog. Even a sign of a hotdog, like the wrapper or something, because hey, if they're eating it, it's Kosher. Nothing. Then I realize that the orthodox wouldn't even eat it anyways if it's not cooked in a kosher kitchen. I try to call Scott to look it up online. He's not home. I call Bernard. He looks it up online. No definitive answer. We opt to not give it to him. Don't need the boy to go into anaphelactic shock during the Wiggles show. Next move: distract and help him forget about the hotdog. It works.



While in our seats and still waiting for the show, I want to know how long the show is. I ask the usher. "Is the show like 90 minutes?" His answer: "No, it's an hour and a half." Paul & I laugh about this for about 5 minutes. Idiot.

You think the kid would be excited or something. But instead, he's tired and cranky. We opted to skip the nap (he hardly ever naps anymore anyways), but of course, this was the day that he really needed it. He's laying on me, sucking his fingers, rubbing his eyes. Then the show starts. He just stares. Not an excited stare, as in awe, but an overwhelmed stare. 45 minutes into the 90 minute show, I have to go pee really bad. Really bad. "Mama has to go potty. Stay here with dada." "NO! NO! I stay here with my mama!" Crying. I can try to wait another 45 minutes. About an hour into the show, he snuggles against my chest. He's sucking his fingers. Next thing I know, he's taking my hand and putting it against his ear. "Too loud mama! Too loud!". Then for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle, the house lights go off and then it turns to (with a loud whimper and then crying), "Ooh, oh! Ooh, oh! Too dark. It's too dark!" (a little like Rain Man) Sniffle. Sniffle. Hands wiping away tears. Hands rubbing his eyes. I tell him, hold on. Hold on. The song's almost over and they'll turn the lights back on. I show him how the audience has their cell phones on and their stupid overpriced-light-up Wiggle batons in the air and how it looks like stars. Lucky for me, he doesn't ask me why he doesn't have a baton. The song is finally over. Then he gets whimpery again. "I can't stay. I want to go home". HUH? I paid $165 and you want to go home early? "I can't stay mama. I wanna go home" I ask Paul how much longer till the end of the show. 10 minutes. Fine. It's not worth the crying and pee is about to burst my bladder wide open anyways, so we leave. Once we get out of the actual theatre, he says "Too loud mama. It's too loud." I keep apologizing. For what, I'm not quite sure. Once he's in the car, he's fine. We come home and play kitchen, he does his Word World game online and he's fine. As I'm rocking him in the chair before I put him down, he says sleeply, "It was too loud mama." I know. I thought it would be fun. It wasn't as great as we thought.



Paul & I discussed the show on the way home. How we were disappointed there weren't more of the classic songs. How the Dorothy the Dinosaur segments were actually boring, and how there were quite a few songs we didn't know. This is what has become of our lives. What happened to seeing Dave Matthews at Dodger Stadium and wishing he'd play "Watchtower"?

Damn Right My Boy Has A Kitchen...

I'm not a feminist, but I'm not old school either. The boy likes play kitchens. When we go to playrooms or other people's homes and they have a play kitchen, he plays with them. So, as a find at LA Kids Consignment sale, I got the boy a play kitchen. That's right. I even got him play pots & pans and a shopping cart and a cash register. He already had the play food. So, he likes to play shopping, taking the food home, and cooking. Of course, this requires me to participate as well, many times a day. It teaches him a lot. There is play money, so he's learning how to count out his money. Also, if you're not aware, the boy is afraid of his stuff getting scanned at stores ("NO BEEP BEEP! NO BEEP BEEP!"), so hopefully this will desensitize him. So, yeah, my boy has a kitchen. Doesn't mean a thing....

PS I have to clarify that this is Michelle writing this post, as the boy's father would not want anyone to mistaken that HE bought him the kitchen stuff.

Preschool Madness

For those who don't have children or your children are somewhat grown, I have to tell you that getting your kid into a preschool these days is pure madness. It's stressful and it throws you back to the days you were applying for college.

If you're a new parent, it starts at about age 1 (2006 for me). "Did you sign your kid up for preschool yet?" everyone asks. "WHAT?" My kid's only 1! Then you think, "Eh, he's only one. There's plenty of time." Then people keep asking, "Did you sign your kid for preschool yet? Have you gone on tours?" Then you start to feel the pressure. I for one did not want to get into the frenzy. I said, "I am not getting into this chaos. There's plenty of time. I'm SO not thinking about preschool...I just want a good night's sleep!" The pressure continues..."I went on this tour and put my kid on the waiting list. Did you know there's already a waiting list for 2008? I've heard this about this school, and this about this school. I really hope he gets into this school." WHAT???? Containing myself, I think, "It's okay. There's plenty of time. These people are just crazy neurotics."

Then, just like Morgan Freeman says in Shawshank Redemption, "All you need is time and pressure." BAM! The anxiety begins. The frantic calls to the various schools, "Do you have spaces for fall 2008?" "No?? Can I get a tour? Can I get on a waitlist?" The running around. The endless tours. The endless questions at the tours ("What teaching philosophy do you follow? What is the student/teacher ratio? What do you do for discipline? What do you do about kids who come sick? What are you expectations for parent involvement? If my kid comes in the afternoons, what about naps? WHAT ABOUT NAPS? DON'T TAKE AWAY THE NAP!) "Can I put in an application?" "What's your registration fee?" "What's the monthly tuition?" "HOW MUCH??" It's like a car payment, and we're not talking about a car payment for a Hyundai or even a Civic. We're talking in the SUV range.

Then, there's the waiting. You wait and wait and wait. A year goes by, and you don't really think about it. Then, the closer you get to spring before the fall you're supposed to start, the anxiety and frenzy starts up again. "I'm on the waitlist at this place and this place. I'm just waiting to hear if we got in. So-and-so told me if you go to the mommy & me class you'll have a better chance of getting in... I heard that the school is having a silent auction. Maybe I should attend to show them I'm interested....Should I call them again? I want them to know I'm interested, but I don't want to harrass them.." It becomes the main topic of conversation among parents the same age as your kid. It is the topic of conversation on my block. "Did you hear anything yet? Did you get anything in the mail?" Then you get a sliver of information like they're supposed to call you after the 14th and let you know if you got in. You come home and ask "Did the school call?" You check your answering machine. Is that message light blinking? Yes, it is! Oh no, it's just the stupid LA Times calling again...

Then, like me tonight, you come home from dinner and that message light is blinking. YES! We got in to the school we wanted. It's such a relief, such (sadly) happiness, as if the great questions/mysteries in life have been resolved. We got in! YEA! You'd think it's damn Princeton or something. Of course, you have to then call your friends who were on the waiting list at the same school and do the "Did you get in?" thing.

I tried my best to not get caught up in all of this. I really did. I try not to be neurotic, even though I am. I know that I am, and I try to catch myself. I drive myself crazy. I drive Paul crazy. But you know, everyone wants what's best for their kid. And you'll do whatever you need to do to make sure they get the best start in life. Even if it's just preschool. You want to provide your kid with every opportunity that they could possibly have to be happy and well-adjusted. So, yes, I got caught up in the chaos. And in this case, it did just take time & pressure, because in the end, I figured, if I didn't get it together and get him into the best school for him, there would be no spaces in any of the better schools, and I'd have to end up sending him to the preschool next door to a 7-11 because that's the only school with openings.

So for now, we're good - until we have to find a school for kindergarten...