ORIGINALLY WRITTEN SHELLEY PLETT
“…D.O.R.O.T.H.Y. she’s my favourite dinosaur, Romp-bomp-a-chomp, hey! When the music starts she dances on the floor. Yes, she’s a really groovy dinosaur…”
Parents, and by parents I mean moms. (Sorry dads, I’m going on a hunch that you managed to get in more sleep than the exhausted and overextended moms.)
So, moms, remember those early baby nights when the sweet little thing was still learning to distinguish night from day? Do you even remember the first three months of the kid’s life?
Those days are archived along with other things, such as giving birth and watching old episodes of “Dharma and Greg.” You remember that it wasn’t pleasant, but eventually the intensity of the experience fades to the point where you allow yourself to do it all again…and again…and in some cases…again.
I had all but buried the memories of that stretch of time when I was falling on my knees bargaining for two consecutive hours of sleep. Give me this rest and no more complaining about anything, ever. Yes, I know I’ve abused my excuse of eating for two, it’s no longer valid. I’ll stop doing that. And I’ll pay my bills right when I open them and I’ll exercise every single morning for the rest of my life….
I almost buried those memories. That was, until my daughter hit a new plateau, which was explained at my recent Parents as Teachers meeting as “hitting the height of her intellectual development.”
She’s nocturnal again. There’s a lot going on in her brain right now and she may be over stimulated, causing her sleep patterns to change. She may start to have dreams. She may refuse leave my side for hours or days (or nights) at a time.
And, as an eyewitness, I can attest that sometimes these things all happen on the same day at the same time. And the experts attest, this is all normal.
This normal stage leaves me hazy, frustrated and maybe a little emotional.
It must be the reason I’m dwelling on this whole yellow Wiggles situation that’s been in the news.
You know, The Wiggles. The four Australian men who dress in really bright shirts and sing about how yummy fruit salad is. Think of them as your toddler’s first boy band.
Greg, the front wiggler in yellow, has stepped down due to an illness. He has recently passed on his yellow shirt to the new guy, Sam.
Being the gender they are-men-and the age they are-over 21-I can’t help but keep one ear open for their fall from grace.
Honestly, this isn’t something you see everyday in the real world. Every parent I know would snatch up their kids up pretty quickly if they came upon four grown men dancing around with preschoolers on the street.
It comes from a combination of paranoia and paranoia. We have to raise our kids with suspicious eyes. The nightly news features the worst of the worst and, with that kind of information pouring in, it’s hard to accept genuine intentions at face value.
But in the case of the Wiggles, I haven’t found evidence that they actually hate fruit salad. So I wish them the best. Good luck Sam, I hope you fit into Greg’s shirt.
And I also hope this shake-up settles down quickly for the group. It would be a shame to see them on one of those 3 a.m. episodes of “Where Are They Now?”
Although it would give my daughter and me something to watch since we’ll probably be up anyway.