Catherine Connors is a mother, writer and recovering academic who traded the lecture hall for the playroom and discovered that university students and preschoolers have much the same attention span. She still dips her toes into academic waters by writing the occasional scholarly article about the place of motherhood in Western philosophy, but mostly now she changes diapers and wipes noses and indulges in long reflections on whether Yo Gabba Gabba is a harbinger of the decline of western civilization. Oh, and she blogs: in addition to Bad Mother blogging at BeliefNet, she is, among other things, the author of HerBadMother.com, Managing Editor of MamaPop, moderator of Her Bad Mother’s Basement, co-founder and co-editor of WeCovet, Contributing Editor at BlogHer, and (deep breath) founder of and contributor to Canada Moms Blog. And in her spare time… oh, wait. She doesn’t have spare time. But she’s okay with that.
Further to yesterday’s post…
1) Why Notorious C.O.W.? Because, hell, look at him. Just one big rockin’ head. He’s clearly the heavy of the bunch.
And because Notorious P.I.G. would just have been too obvious, you know?
2) Yes, that is a FISHER-PRICE infant-toddler rocker that the barnyard posse hangs out on and that Baby visits frequently. And yes, my home is becoming over-run with garish baby toys. My well-laid plan to have only sleek, design-friendly baby stuff in my home lasted about 5 minutes. ‘Cause it’s all about what Baby wants. And Baby’s finely-tuned aesthetic sensibilities have not yet been honed (assuming that they have not been and will not be corrupted by the current stock of gear) – Baby likes bright colours (have another gander at the Whoozit) and a variety of textures, among which (gah!), plastic. (And not cool look-what-I-got-at-the-MOMA-giftshop plastic, either - pink plastic. And blue. With rattles.)
But bright colours and varied textures are good for Baby’s brain development – or so all of the toy propagandists tell me – and her IQ takes the front seat here. So, for the betterment of Baby’s precious, precious brain, the garish gear is tolerated. That, and a) FP is cheaper than Oeuf, which she would just reject anyway (she rejected a wide variety of bouncers, baby papasans and swings before deciding that the FP rocker would be her throne), b) the rejection factor that applies to bouncer chairs also applies to playmats, mobiles, and all manner of ‘developmental’ toys (thank god for hand-me-downs and generous return policies or I’d be more broke than can be tolerated) and c) I’m going for anything – anything – that buys me 15 more minutes of time to brush my teeth/pee/eat/sleep/blog (not necessarily in that order.) Which means that, yes, there is going to be an Exersaucer – and probably the biggest, most pimped-out Exersaucer I can find.
3) Whoozit came off yesterday like the mac-daddy of all the toys, and Number One Deputy of Her Royal Highness the Baby of Poopsalot. This is mostly true. Whoozit is the mac-daddy of toys. But he’s only head of security on the toy detail. Chief of military security is this person…
… Georgie, aka Doob (don’t ask, not because it’s bad, but because we can’t remember. Insert pot joke here), now self-designated Security Chief in the court of Poopsalot and going by the name NanaDoob. The NanaDoob holds court beside the bassinet for the duration of Baby’s naps, and assists in the putting down of Baby for naps, which consists of monitoring the procedure to ensure that Baby does not cry and to bite me on the knee if she does.
The NanaDoob does not police the toys. Perhaps because she figures that they pose no real threat; more probably because she hangs with them when Baby isn’t around.
4) The Bumbo. The Bumbo rocks. It lets Baby really see what’s going on around her feet. But what most rocks about the Bumbo is that it has revealed to Baby the choicest toys of all…
… her feet.
Originally posted at Her Bad Mother, 2006. Copyright Catherine Connors 2006 – 2009.