April 2012


My 18-month-old daughter loves “Bubble Guppies,” which is a show on Nick Jr. about fish who do stuff and sing about it.  The division of singing labor among the guppies makes it seem a lot like “Glee” (there are two who sing the most, and they compartmentalize the other four), but overall the show is more realistic than “Glee.”  The Guppies cover topics from hailing taxis to the sun being hot.  I don’t have to teach her anything because some merkids have it covered.  Win win!

Jupiter is gassy, Venus is bright

She started to watch this at her sitter’s house, and for a couple of months has been saying “Gubble buppies,” (she says it correctly now), and we thought it was so cute to see how excited she got about it.  It’s still cute, but when one of us is at a computer, she thinks that this means it’s time to watch “Bubble Guppies,” and will demand to watch it, but mostly just demands this from me.  When we’re not on our computers she likes to try prying mine open while saying  “gup, guppies.”  One morning last week I let her watch “Sun, Beautiful Sun,” and I stepped away from the table (we kept our computers on the dining room table, don’t judge me).  I heard the song rewind, and saw her reach over and hit the keypad perfectly to restart the song.  She did it more than once.  This means that my baby is an AV genius, and also, that my computer is covered in peanut butter.

And, dammit, if I don’t have a dozen of their songs stuck in my head most of the time.   They’re so catchy, and I hope that the pop harmonies guarantee that she will love Fountains of Wayne.  This one is my favorite (and that’s why I let her watch it the most):

But on a serious parenting note (and also to explain why the tenses are weird in this post — I wrote most of this last week when I was still pro “LET’S WATCH IT ALL THE TIME” along with her), in order from causing her to associate watching videos with eating, and to cut down on the Bubble Guppy-denial fussiness, I have moved my computer and don’t check it when she’s around.   Unless I want to watch this:

If I could change one thing about myself — and I’m near perfect — I would be a motivated homeowner.  There are dozens of small and big house projects that can be done, but I lack resources (specifically time, skill, interest, probably funds).  I guess I could be the sort of person who has a vision of how the house should be and then sees it through, but I’m not.  As long as our house is still standing it seems more important to ignore it (I call this style “Don’t Tell Me What to DIY”).

I threw a baby shower for my sister last month (side note — I’m going to be an aunt, !!!).  I had a list of house tasks, and the shower was a perfect kick in the pants to get some things done.  While I did a lot of small things, the biggest item was a complete re-haul of our utility room, and possibly kitchen, floor.  It’s just a mess back in the mud room.  It would actually be a better place if it had a mud floor and not cat-business-covered loose vinyl tiles and random storage.  I did make an effort to find fresher tiles but the obvious places didn’t carry them, and it was getting too close to the shower date to finish a project that size.

Just to spruce things up I bought a new trash can for the kitchen.  We had a dingy white plastic one from our apartment, and it was kept shut by placing a toolbox on it because Bunk would root through it otherwise.  We will have had the dog for three years this summer and the baby was starting to walk off with the toolbox, and it just occurred to us that a new trash can was a better solution.  I bought a plastic black trash can.  It really makes the kitchen look better.

So, I am such a bad house-upkeeper than my grand plans for home renovations were satiated by getting a new trash can.

Also, I feel like I should apologize to my constant chum, who dropped serious (for then, and then not serious, and now serious again) money on a stainless steel trash can when we lived together and I didn’t understand the appeal until now.  I GET IT.  I will get one some day.

Anyway, babies.