Sunday mornings are made for updates

I think there's a trend-- Elle is going down for her nap just when I should be leaving for pre-church choir rehearsal. And she really needs to go down for her nap; there's no cheering her up or hoping she'll fall asleep once we get to church.

Next Sunday is her christening. I think I'll have to get her up earlier (yuck) in order for her to nap a bit before we have to get her out of the house... It should be interesting. At least there will be other people there to babywrangle, what with my parents in town, and the various godparents and friends present.

So today, I've already finished ironing clothes for the week, written a thank-you note, washed the only dirty bottle, and decided not to dust. Thus, I'm messing around on the intarwebs, and hoping Elle wakes up in time to make at least part of the church service. We also have a baptism informational meeting afterwards, which (if nothing else) we should be able to make.

I've worked out how to make choir rehearsals on a semi-regular basis. But getting to actually sing... that's going to be a challenge.

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Elle made her first trip to Ikea yesterday. She was angelic, which I am taking to mean that she's a fan of Swedish design. Also of Swedish food, because she was perfectly behaved while a friend and I grabbed a cheap lunch in their cafeteria.

They've redesigned the traffic flow/interior of my favorite Ikea, and made it much less open and much more difficult to maneuver. Bleah. You used to be able to wander around in fairly open aisles, and now you feel herded like a sheep. I understand that they want you to have less freedom to roam because theoretically then you'll buy more-- but for me, I'll buy less when I feel claustrophobic. And I'll be grumpy.

Of course, I still managed to buy. I got a small bookcase for Elle's room, as well as some more fabric collapsible storage boxes that are perfect for toys. They have a cute toy box, but the little fabric boxes are more portable and flexible.

Did I get anything for me, you might ask? Yes. A soap dish. We all know who rates in the Plus One household.

One note-- I needed the bookcase for a good reason. A friend who works at a library in the area got me a stack of children's books from when her library was reorganizing its children's collection. Literally, we're talking about a stack of books at least a foot high-- probably higher than that! They are fabulous-- I'm going to wipe off the covers, just because, but it's a wonderful stash of books that hopefully Elle will love.

You can never, ever have too many books.

Rambling thoughts on books and television and babies

I’ve always liked television. I’m a definite child of the boob tube, although when I was growing up the selection of programs for kids was far more limited than it is now. We never had cable, and even if we had, I doubt I’d have been allowed to sit in front of Nick Jr or Nickel.odeon or the Dis.ney Channel for more than a little while. Back in the day (as I smack my dentures), Saturday morning cartoons were the big show, and really all that was available. I didn’t know otherwise, so I enjoyed my TV when I could get it.

Books were my main source of information and entertainment, however, and I read everything I could get my hands on. Literally. I remember sneaking into the adult section of my hometown library. What was I sneaking up there to find? Books on English history. I'm pretty sure this is why the librarians never stopped me. If I'd been going up there for the bodice rippers, I might have been gently guided back to the kids' section. Heh.

I'm still a reader, but my love of TV has also continued into my adult life. If I have time, I’ll watch almost anything—from home decorating shows, to documentaries (I love documentaries, even about obscure subjects), to cooking shows, to cop shows, to dramas. I like shows that make me think, or make me laugh, or teach me things. So, basically, what I’m saying is that I like TV. It’s fun.

Of course, nationally, TV viewership has exploded since I was a wee sproglet. Circa 2009, the average American now watches more than 151 hours of TV a month—that’s about five hours a day. That number blows my mind. I have to say even in my sluggiest winter couch-lazing, I’m not sure I ever made it up to that number. And that number isn't even counting online viewing.

A slightly older survey found that the average child watches 1,680 minutes of TV a week—versus 3.5 minutes per week that parents spend in meaningful conversation with their children. And by the time an average child finishes elementary school, they’ll have seen 8,000 murders on TV. 8,000!! You can’t tell me that doesn’t have some kind of impact.

Elle hasn’t even rolled over yet (she’s trying, and it’s hilarious), but if I have the TV on in my bedroom while we’re getting ready, I can see her little eyes gravitate towards it. Even though I just have on the news, it’s shiny and bright, with colors and lights—tailor-made for baby eyes, and waaay more interesting than Mom’s face. But passive interaction with the tube doesn’t give her anything that helps her learn or grow. I read somewhere that they did some kind of analysis between a baby looking at a real dog, and a baby looking at a dog on TV, and the difference in how the baby’s brain was engaged was astronomical.

I’m not a saint. I’ll be using TV as a babysitter occasionally, and I’m not going to worry about it too much. I’ll try to limit it to PBS fare for as long as I can; I’m more comfortable with programs that at least pretend to be educational and aren’t peppered with commercials. But I know that can’t last forever.

I hope it lasts long enough, though, to plant in her a love of reading over TV. I’ve seen in my goddaughter that if you don’t learn to love books when you’re young, you’re never going to love them. You may end up liking them a lot, but you won’t love them. I want Elle to feel that books are magical, and that libraries are places of wonder. That finding a new book by a favorite author is like finding a gift meant just for you. That being deep in a good book means you hardly hear anything going on around you, because you’re off in some far-away (or make-believe) land, miles from your chair. That sometimes the way a book smells stays in your memory—I know, that sounds weird. But if you love books, you understand.

At this point, I’m just thrilled when she focuses on an object and smiles. But I know how quickly this roller coaster goes, and I don’t want to miss the window. I’m sure she’ll like TV, just like her mommy. But I also hope she loves books just as much as I do, because that’s the kind of love that leads somewhere.

My deep love for cop shows hasn’t really benefited me in any measurable way, as fun as they are. But reading? That’s paid off a thousand times over, and always will.