On Archaeology and Ollie

One of the thing The Books do not cover is how often being a parent can make you feel like an archaeologist. Not in the physical sense, but in memory. As Cecilia morphs from a baby into a free thinking, free wheeling toddler, more and more she will pull a face or make a gesture and I’ll be stopped in my tracks, gobsmacked. I know all the scientific mumbo jumbo, but it’s sometimes uncanny and unsettling to be faced with your grinning mini-doppelganger using your own genes against you. Like someone’s sneaked passed the No Trespassing sign and set up camp in your subconscious backyard. You’ll find yourself wanting to say, hey, stop that. That’s my secret way to eat a pretzel. Or, no, stop sleeping that way. I patented that back in ’83 little lady.

Sometimes it’s not a gesture, at all, but a toy that can leave me staring at a wall and drooling over a flood of dormant memories. For instance, it’s no secret a large part of my childhood was spent trawling the Jersey turnpike, but the actual destination of those trips was not roadside diners or the scenic Molly Pitcher rest stop, but my grandparents. I have many memories of late night arrivals. Grandmom was always awake. Grandpop was always asleep. Like a medieval innkeeper, no matter the time, there were always snacks (cheese in a can!) before shuffling off to bed. Early the next morning, before a proper breakfast,  there were always a crumb topped donuts or a butterscotch Tastykakes before we’d be off to play as my parents slept off the miles.

Twenty five years later, I can’t remember any toys at my grandparents save one. An odd, banana shaped scooter we called Ollie.

Like all the greats, Ollie’s stature has only grown over time and telling. And not just with me. As the entire clan has grown older, Ollie’s memory has been burnished to a high shine. And rightful ownership has become hotly debated. But there was a snag. Somewhere along the way, just like the song says, painted wings and giant rings made way for other toys. Ollie was lost to history. So, how do you assign ownership to a memory? The answer it turns out is easy. Ebay.

Thanks to my cousin Bill (thanks Bill!), the next generation of Donohue’s won’t miss out on hallway races or sun drenched driveway rides on Ollie’s back. Sure, she’s a little paler, maybe lost a little hair and rides a little lower. And yes, perhaps she’s much more creepy in person than I remember, but she’s back and now I can remember all over again.

Can’t I Just Buy a Rattle?

Over the past few weeks Cecilia has started to grab at things.  She grabs my shirt, the bottle, her blanket and to Lola’s dismay, her ears.  In order to encourage this explorative behavior I decided  to purchase some basic baby toys.  Emphasis on the word BASIC.

So I took my hour window when Cecilia was napping to head on out to Babies R Us.  I have never enjoyed walking into a Babies R Us store because usually I am bombarded with sales people trying to convince me to get the swing that lights up and orbits around your living room to give your baby that out of this world experience. That is a story for another post.

However, walking into the toy aisle at Babies R Us is like walking into a psychedelic carnival with scary figures, strange bright lights, and music that is on a fine line between being extremely annoying or horribly terrifying.  My goal was to buy Cecilia something BASIC like a rattle, or a set of baby keys, or maybe even some blocks.  Unfortunately all I found were toys that could make any child run back to the womb. Some of my “favorites” were:

Counting Glow worm lady- She sings songs and her face lights up as she counts one two three. Let me repeat, she is a worm, whose face lights up…

Crazy Rainbow Noise Toy-  I don’t know what the purpose of this toy was but it had all sorts of bells and whistles… literally.  I had visions of accidentally kicking this toy in the middle of the night and cursing its existence for eternity.

Crib Activity Center- This toy had more colors on it than a pantone catalogue.  It had mirrors and lights and yet again played music.  It had parts that spun, twist, shook, hummed, and rolled. If Cecilia moved, the toy would move back, If Cecilia shrieked the toy would shriek. I think you get the point.

Here I was trying to find some simple stimulating toys for Cecilia and I was stuck in the land of overstimulation.  So what was I to do?  I ended up leaving the store empty handed and went home and played with my baby. After all the greatest “toy” a child can have is her Mama.