On Parenthood (and other movies)

At the risk of dating myself, one of my favorite movies in college was Parenthood, an unremarkable comedy starring Steve Martin, Rick Moranis, Mary Steenburgen, and Dianne Wiest (interesting bit of trivia -- it also featured a post-Bill and Ted, pre-Speed Keanu Reeves). I don't know why I liked it so much; it wasn't as though I was a parent myself, or knew anyone facing parenthood. But for some reason, the movie has stuck with me all these years. I keep coming back to some of the visuals in the movie -- the kid who kept running into a wall with a bucket over his head, the daughter barfing all over Steve Martin. I was reminded of the movie recently while watching Steve Martin receive the Mark Twain prize. I'm sure that 20-30 years from now, I'll be recalling Father of the Bride.

What is interesting to me is the power that movies (and to some extent, television) have over our lives. I know that I'm particularly media- and pop culture-obsessed, but movies form the backdrop -- the narrative, if you will -- to many moments in our lives. So, readers, now that you are a parent, what movies do you identify with?

Curious

I was at my post-Harry's-bedtime book club meeting tonight when asked if I had baby pictures. Nope. But I had my phone! Lots on there. I started wondering, is it weird that this is the only place I carry photos? I don't really carry a wallet. The phone is always with me. It makes sense to me...am I the only one that shares photos this way?
Also, what's the deal with the new Wal-Mart ads? They seem to be targeting a new audience, namely: me! I'm a Target shopper, but Wal-Mart's new ads show a thirtiesh woman at home with a baby and another on a treadmill with an "Ipod." I suddenly feel the need to start buying things at Wal-Mart. Am I just a sucker for savvy marketing?
Also, I think my husband has picked up a pseudonym: Kristopher Kaiyala. Or do all men have issues with allowing toddlers to self-feed yogurt?

thinking about resolutions (at the end of January)

I read The Washington Post Magazine Year in Review issue. Well, I was reading it a few weeks ago. But even then, I was reading Sunday’s paper on, oh, the following Thursday. It usually takes me all week to read the Sunday papers. (And then it takes me weeks more to write about something that strikes me. The magazine has been sitting on my desk next to my computer since that Thursday, January 5.)

I do not remember the last time I made a New Year’s resolution. New Year’s celebrations have always been anti-climactic. Except the time I ran the Midnight Run in Central Park, but that was seven years ago! What fun: 15-degree temperature, fireworks, champagne at the halfway point in little thimble cups, ice on the Central Park roads.... Anyway…

I was reading The Significant Others column by Jeanne Marie Laskas, “The Journey of a Thousand Miles… begins with a trash bag.” She writes about New Year’s resolutions (fitting, right, for a January 1 column?), trying to pick just one small thing instead of rolling over the last year’s resolutions that never got done. Her thing was to be a neat(er) person. After considering where to get started, she focuses on her desk:

“I see there are many items that can be pitched. Here, for instance, is a pair of reading glasses I got at Target with lenses that turned out to be way too strong for me. Looking through these glasses gave me actual motion sickness. Now, someday, my eyes may need correction this strong, so should I save them? Or perhaps should I donate them to charity? One of the two rubber nosepieces is missing, but I suppose there are nosepiece replacements you can buy. Um. What the heck am I supposed to do with these things?”

I look at my desk… Who cares if it is a new year? I should always keep it neat, throw things out. But I don’t. I see s*hit tossed everywhere:

• A hammer that I used a week ago that should be returned to the toolbox (and I have gone from office to basement enough times to just grab it and take it down with me).
• A list of dentist names and numbers that I should file (let alone that huge pile of “To Be Filed” crap).
• The cord for charging my iPod and another one for downloading photos from my camera spilling across the desk top.
• A licked-clean spoon, probably left here from when I ate breakfast over an editing job a few mornings ago. The dish made it to the kitchen, the spoon was left behind
  

I have no reading glasses from Target. But what If I threw out something? Or put something where it belongs? Ah, that would feel good. But whenever I am not working or caring for Iz, I don’t get around to cleaning my office. Well, I do actually clean my office now and again. And then it is so much more pleasant to sit and work here.

But it is so hard to get started. So instead, I wrote this blog entry.

Role Reversal

I am a petite blond former cheerleader. My husband is a 200 pound hairy hockey goalie. I am rather girlie to the untrained eye. Kevin isn't close to girlie...until you start talking about shoe shopping.

Harry calls Kevin "MaMA." It is very accurate. Kevin IS Mama. It is not just because he cooks and does midnight wakeups and is Harry's "consistent" parent (I travel for work, Kevin is home every night). Here is my most recent example of why Kevin is the mommy and I am the daddy:

• I came back from CVS last night (another earache) and found Harry in the tub with roughly an inch and a half of water. When I give him a bath, the water overflows and everything is soaked. I suppose Kevin is worried about drowning and all of that. Harry like s to swim in the tub though!
• Harry's dinner plate last night that Kevin prepared had fruits and vegetables in the shape of a happy face (so cute!). For lunch I handed Harry a knife, a block of port wine cheese and some crackers.
• Kevin helps Harry up the slide steps, I stand behind the rock wall like a drill sergeant making him do each hold himself (okay, maybe not a drill sergeant but certainly a climbing instructor).

There are still certain areas that are traditional, but some of our daily activities are funny even to me. As for Harry, he might be described as "all boy" (he walks like a tough guy), but he will spend hours pushing his "baby" in a stroller or feeding him (Graco makes a doll and stroller set in dark blue), preparing dinner at his little kitchen, or walking around with beads and a "purse" (it is actually a mini sports bag). Harry will run around the yard with a hockey stick and puck making growling sounds, all the while making sure his chocolate box headband stays in place!
Harry wants to be big so badly! he doesn't differentiate between gender activities at this point. I guess Kevin and I don't really do that either- except fro the headbands! But he'll figure that one out at some point!