Zoe vs. the Book Review: But Did You Die? Setting the Parenting Bar Low

Mommy's in another book. I know this because I overheard her begging a friend to give it a "review." So when she was alone and defenseless, i.e., in the shower, I asked her two questions.

1. Why hadn't she asked me for a review?

and

2. What's a review?

Gamely wiping shampoo from her eye, she told me a review is when you tell people what you thought of a book you'd read, good or bad.

So, I said, you asked that lady to give you a good review or a bad review?

She hesitated then said, "I told her to be honest," adding, in her pod-person voice, "Everyone should always be honest." 

Then we played who'll-blink-first and I won.

Available now! See the sidebar. It's right there!

"I'd like to review your book," I said.

"No," she said, flat-out, just like that. "First of all, you fall down on the floor and have a break down when I ask you to read Hop on Pop so there's no way you're getting through an anthology"---she rushed on when she realized she'd used a ten-dollar word I'd surely ask about---"and second, it has . . . adult words in it."

"You mean bad words. Curse words. Like---"

"Yep. Now scram so Mommy can get soap out of her eyes," and with that she wrested the shower curtain from my hands and snapped it closed. 

So I found a copy on my own, and yes, it was too long, but I skimmed it which means not really reading it, like Mommy does with letters sent home from school. (Ed. note: this is not true! Besides, I am a very good skimmer.) 

Then I wrote my review, in one sentence, using a lot of "ands" because I'm learning about joining words in school.

The overall theme of the book is parenting advice, taken, not taken, and the shenanigans that ensue.

(Ed. note: click the hot-linked phrases to find out who wrote each essay--it's a fun surprise AND you'll find a new hilarious person to follow!)

Ahem! If Mommy will stop interrupting then we can get on with:

The Best Book Review Ever 

by Zoe

The first story is about these three little girls whose pet dies, and in my opinion, the Mommy writing it lacked appropriate solemnity, but Mommy said it was "laugh-out-loud" funny, and that story is followed by a different kind of horrifying-but-supposedly-natural thing, which is breastfeeding, and I learned breast is best, or maybe it isn't, or at least not all the time, the conclusion kind of left it up to you, followed by a Daddy who hates baby talk and I concur vehemently, after which we have some plane poop, which is better than the gross body stuff in the next story about that thing Mommys and Daddys have to do to make babies but sometimes do when they don't want to make babies, why I don't know, followed by a Mommy who makes her kids work for her, which seems criminal and I will be reporting her to the proper authorities, then a story about hipsters who like to eat green babies and so the Mommy who has one escapes to Greece, which is where green comes from, maybe, or at least they both start with the same four letters, followed by a Mommy obsessed with putting her kids in the oven, which is just sick, and after that I was ready for unsolicited advice from a lady without kids who sounds fun to hang out with and like she hasn't been beaten by life yet and I refuse to see any correlation with her being childless, followed by scary toys that come to life in the night, then the story I call "good catch, Daddy," and I bet you want to know what he catches, don't you, then a Mommy who doesn't lie but thinks she should have, about the toilet, but it's never good to lie and I'm surprised that this Mommy entertains the idea, then comes Mommy's essay, which was not cleared with my people, then a story about a Mommy obsessed with socks, which I find is a pretty common parental obsession---they're just socks, people---then a story about a Mommy who tries to be a Daddy and be fun and almost dies, which is what happens when Mommys try to be fun, just sayin', then this Mommy who's unheathily obsessed with becoming a cheerleader---let it go, lady, to paraphrase Elsa---followed by a Daddy who's got some issues about his teen daughter driving, which I hope she ignored, cause girls can do anything better than boys, and sometimes Daddys too, circle of life, etc., then this little kid whose style I like is just keepin' it real but the Mommy gets embarrassed---this is a good one cause the kid in it curses---then this other Mommy talks about how she was left alone as a newborn, and I thought, big deal, it wasn't till I had a few months under my belt that I could cause some real trouble, followed by this pottymouth Mommy talking about her teenage son, and she uses so many bad words I was kind of impressed so had to slow my skim so I could write them down, and after that I learned that though I should try not to vomit in a tube park, I will never have to clean it up cause that's a Mommy's job, and next up was a soccer dad, and he is an actual coach of his daughter's team, which I think Daddy didn't know he could do this and I will have to tell him, followed by another forgetful, neglectful Mommy who doesn't read instructions carefully (are all Mommies like this?), and then a Daddy who says if your own Mommy is very careful, you'll be less careful when you get older and I'm not sure if this was supposed to be good or bad, and then the next Mommy had a question: "Urine is sterile, right?" and I wondered why she didn't just google it, unless she was afraid of getting pee on the keyboard, followed by pee's friend, poo, and a story about this kid I really like because she really likes poo, then a story about those stick things Mommy has in the cabinet that she gets annoyed when I take them out and play with them because they're fascinating but I'm glad I don't have to use them and don't get how they even fit in your front butt, and this one was followed by the one that made the most sense because it was about a Mommy who was told don't fall with your hands in your pockets, and when I read that, I slowed my skim again because that really resonated with me and made me so happy, but then I got to the lying Mommy who only pretends to stay nearby---and I won't even tell you how she does this because it's so devious and disgusting---while her poor kid goes to sleep unaware he lives in a world of lies, but then I got over it when I read about this magical place called Port Authority where I've never been to the bathroom, and next time I will drag Mommy there because it's now on my bathroom bucket list, and this was followed by a story about an anthropomorphic candy bar with bad timing, but is there ever a good time for a giant candy bar to be anthropomorphic because then it's not a real giant candy bar, and that's just the worst sort of disappointment, then a funny story I liked about a baby vomiting on a stranger on a plane, which is the height of comedy, get it?, because it's on a plane, then about this lady who keeps having kids and the births never go according to plan and I'm not sure if she keeps doing it till it comes out right or what, then an interesting story about a Mommy telling her child to ignore bullies but it seems there are exceptions, which is good to know because someday I'm going to learn how to kill a man with one finger, then this Daddy who thinks parenthood needs a cure and I wasn't sure what he was getting at and if I should be happy about it because he kept zigging when I expected him to zag, and another story with my favorite subject, a little kid like me cursing and getting away with it, sort of, I mean, the Daddy didn't like it but the Mommy I think was coaching the kid and teaching her all the best curse words so I like this Mommy, and finally we end with a story by the lady who put the whole thing together for her Aunt Ology---whoever she is, and I'm not sure what she's going to do with all this advice---and hers is about how boys stink when they become teenagers, but I think they already do, at least the ones in my class do, and aren't I lucky that I'm a girl and so I'll never stink? The end. 

Oh, and I liked the book fine, I guess. Maybe even the story about me.

But Did You Die? Setting the Parenting Bar Low, hilarious stories of parenting advice gone wrong, but occasionally right. Available now. In fact, if you just glance over to your right, you'll see it right there in the sidebar. See it? Reward yourself for your smartitudes: click it!

Zoe: 166; Universe: 0

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Zoe vs. David Lynch

Scenes filled with a nameless dread. Encounters with the surreal. Disturbing violence and psychological terror. Unnerving silences. Parenting involves all those things. Which is why it has a lot in common with the oeuvre of David Lynch.

I was a big Twin Peaks fan, so when I heard David Lynch and Mark Frost were going to bring it back, well, it felt like all the gum I'd ever liked was going to come back in style. 

Twin Peaks was one of the early touchstones in my relationship with The Husband. Soon after we met, we bonded over our love for Agent Dale Cooper and his love for coffee---"black as midnight on a moonless night"---not to mention pie. We loved the Log Lady and eye-patch Nadine's quest for perfectly silent drape runners. Like so many others, we wanted to know "who killed Laura Palmer?"

Everyone was obsessed with this blond beauty. We wanted to believe she was an angel; we suspected she might be the devil. Am I being too subtle? 

It's not just Twin Peaks that reminds me of Zoe. It's a lot of David Lynch's movies. I mean, have you seen Eraserhead? The whole movie was a reenactment of my brain the first year of Zoe's life, filled as it was with never-ending diaper changes and never-beginning sleep. Hallucinations. A tiny creature completely dependent on you filling you with equal parts dread, responsibility, love, and not a little repulsion. That and the main character sports the most spectacular bed head.

A) Shower B) eat or C) take a nap? Whaddaya mean "D"?

Or how about Lost Highway? If you've seen it, you probably remember the Mystery Man who approaches Bill Pullman's character at a party and tells him that he (the weird little man standing right in front of him) is currently at his house and says if you don't believe him, call him. Bill Pullman calls his own house and guess who answers. Freaks me out every time.

A little shorter and a cuter haircut and this could be Zoe appearing at my bedside at five in the morning to ask who's going to put her to bed that night. 

Did I mention how midway through Lost Highway one character switches heads with another? If that's not a metaphor for parenting, then I don't know what is.

"Hello, me? It's you."

And then there's Blue Velvet, featuring villain Frank Booth, who is, shall we say, disrespectful to a character he addresses as "Mommy." Luckily I still have both my ears, though I've been tempted to rip them off myself after Zoe's been telling me the same disjointed story three days straight about how she may or may not have a little bit but doesn't remember put up her middle finger but not on purpose and is that bad?

Mulholland Drive, and I can't believe I'm saying this, I think I understood. It's about the corruption of Hollywood and broken dreams. There's role-playing, a possible parallel universe, non-sequiturs, and nightmare visions.

Just last night Zoe was telling me a story about a monster who lived under a bed. I wasn't sure if it was supposed to be her bed or someone else's, but either way, with Lynchian nonchalance, she said, "Then the monster comes out and puts his head in your mouth." She paused, then said, "Or maybe it's your head in his mouth. Anyway, that's what I call a nightmare."

"It fits the bill," I tell her, giving her a thumbs-up, a la Agent Cooper.

Sorry if I woke you from the nightmare you were having about me.

Speaking of dreams, I can't help but think the giant and the dwarf who appear to Cooper are metaphors for how the things parents say to children and vice versa are often mysterious and perhaps can only be understood twenty-five years later, and on an alternate plane of existence.

It's been twenty-five years since Twin Peaks originally aired and now it's back. Since I'm in a different place in life, I'm more willing to suspend disbelief this time around. Or maybe it's because I'm too tired to try to make sense of David Lynch and that's why his solipsistic narrative logic doesn't trouble my literal brain as much. In any case, I'm just sitting back and trying to enjoy the ride. Just like parenting Zoe. Who I'm pretty sure doesn't have, or need, an evil doppelganger.

When you've just cleaned the sink and your kid spits toothpaste in it.

Zoe: 165; Universe: 0

If you enjoyed this post, you may like Zoe vs. Karl Lagerfeld.

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Zoe vs. Lord of the Flies. Or, Who Said It: A Six-Year-Old or William Golding?

I read Lord of the Flies when I was in seventh grade. I'm not sure if my teacher thought it was a good book to read because it was short or because the characters were kids. But if it was because we were supposed to learn something about man's inhumanity to man, I wanted to say, Lady, all we really need to know we learned that time you stepped out to take a phone call and left us unsupervised for two minutes.

But today, almost four years into writing a humorous parenting blog, I wonder how it is I've referenced Lord of the Flies exactly once? Maybe it just seemed a little too on the nose. The whole children-descending-into-savagery thing. I have a kid. I've been to a playground.

Zoe, like all children, is a walking Id, so imagining her running free and unsupervised on an island with a lot of branches to fashion into weapons gives me pause.

Plus, when you wear glasses like I do, and poor Piggy from Lord of the Flies did (RIP, Piggy), you live in fear of them being broken by a mischievous child. And it's really only a short jump from there to imagining your entire body being crushed under a rock when mischief makes that right turn into murder.

So today we're going to play "Who Said It?" Is it Zoe or is it one of the British boys from William Golding's Lord of the Flies?

After all, the line between human and savage is a fine one, especially when the latter is digging her elbow into your sternum and you're both cranky.

Answers at the end.

No peeking now!

Who Said It: Zoe or William Golding?

1. "Which is better, to have rules and agree, or hunt and kill?"

2. "I thought I might kill."

3. "I'm going to make everyone dead."

4. "Everyone has to listen to me."

5. "I was chief, and you were going to do what I said."

6. "Everyone's happy when I'm happy."

7. "Kill the pig! Cut his throat. Kill the pig! Bash him in!"

8. "I can explode you two times and you'd be dead."

9. "We've got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages."

     9a. "Who cares?"

     9b. "What matters?"

10. "I'm not going to play any longer. Not with you."

11. “The mask was a thing on its own, to hide behind, liberated from shame and self-consciousness.”

12. "Where's my mask?"

13. "When is the Earth going to be destroyed?"

14. “He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one's waking life was spent watching one's feet.”

15. “Maybe there is a beast… maybe it's only us.”

16. "I'm your worst nightmare."

Answer key: 1. Ralph from LOTF. 2. Jack from LOTF. 3. Zoe. 4. Zoe. 5. Ralph. 6. Zoe. 7.  Boys from LOTF. 8. Zoe. 9. Jack. 9a. Ralph. 9b. Zoe (her version of "Who cares?") 10. Jack. 11. William Golding. 12. Zoe. 13. Zoe. 14. William Golding, but this is what the expression on Zoe's face said the other night when she threw herself on the ground and refused to walk another step carrying her backpack because she was just "so exhausted." 15. Simon from LOTF. 16. Trick question. This is an oft-repeated trope from movies and TV, and I imagine it will also be the tattoo Zoe gets when she's fifteen and about which I'll write "Zoe vs. My Worst Nightmare Tattoo."

Zoe: 164: Universe: 0

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Zoe vs. the Fidget Spinner

When I first heard the words "fidget spinner" I assumed it was just another term for a six-year-old human. Like the one who lives with me and often appears as a blur of motion that makes a lot of noise.

My Darling One is unable to sit still. And she particularly enjoys spinning around in circles. Ipso facto: Zoe's a fidget spinner.

But it turns out a Fidget Spinner is a toy slash tool of therapy for kids who have trouble sitting still in class, in church, at their older sister's accordion recital, or in other places where one is required to sit unmoving through some, shall we say, unexciting material (with apologies to children taking Beginner's Accordion).

The fidgety label can be applied to many children, ranging from the redundant ("I am child, see me fidget") to a formal diagnosis from a psychologist. So these little devices "may" be a good solution for "some." But because this is America, it's quickly spun out of control. (See what I did!)

It feels like last week I'd never heard of Fidget Spinners and now they're everywhere, helping kids focus while distracting those sitting next to them. Adults are using them too, while on the phone with their moms, at work during PowerPoint presentations, and during their oldest daughter's accordion recital.

So could a Fidget Spinner work for my twitchy tot?

I can't see it. I just don't get how what is essentially a toy would help my particular child concentrate. I think she'd just concentrate on the spinner to the exclusion of all else.

I envision Zoe at home, sitting on the floor and spinning away, ignoring my repeated calls to dinner while she inadvertently torments the cat. And he's already stressed out about the shower curtain, not to mention the living room window, which I'm pretty sure has never moved but I can't be sure given the way he stalks and then jumps at it, banging his head, probably thinking it served that other cat who looks exactly like him right.

And if Zoe brought the Fidget Spinner to school, I imagine she'd only tear her eyes away from it when the teacher called her name, telling her to pay attention, at which point Zoe would suddenly let go of the toy, and it would go spinning over her desk and across the room, taking someone's eye out, and then Zoe would have to chase it, the spinner, not the eyeball, though who can say, she likes to be helpful. And then she'd get kicked out of school. And I'd get sued, and then we'd probably have to move to Australia like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

(My ability to spin countless worst-case scenarios in my brain is a Mental Fidget Spinner. [Patent pending.])

With these nightmare visions turning over and over in my brain, I was still curious, so on our walk home the other night, I asked Zoe if any kids in her class had a Fidget Spinner.

Naturally, she wasn't listening. Because we were about to pass a woman with a Dachshund puppy who was straining at its leash, entranced by Zoe, seeing in her a playmate or plaything, and the feeling was mutual.

"Zoe, I asked you a question," I repeated, and she glanced at me for a millisecond before turning back to the dog. "Do any of your classmates have Fidget Spinners?"

"All of them," she said.

Now, Zoe is not the best witness, and is given to exaggerating---I have no idea where she gets it from---so I didn't think ALL the kids in her class had one.

"Seriously? All of them?" I said, picturing a little wind farm in her class fluttering all the artwork.

But again, Zoe wasn't listening, for just then a squirrel ran across our path, and I had to grab Zoe back from chasing it as the dog owner did the same for his tiny charge. But Zoe wasn't on a leash, so eventually she broke free and ran after the squirrel a few feet before stopping to examine an apparently alluring stick.

When I caught up with her, she handed me the stick. Which I threw away as soon as her back was turned. We continued walking.

Zoe then said, "Melvin has a Fidget Spinner."

"Ah, Melvin. Anyone else?"

"Melvin plays with it all the time," she continued. "Until the teacher took it away. And now she says no one can have one. They're distracting."

"That's what I wondered."

"Yes. No one can concentrate when they're around. . . . Can I have one?"

I took my time responding, praying another squirrel might intervene.

Zoe: 163; Universe: 0

If you enjoyed this post, you may like Zoe vs. Boredom: In Which a Child's Ennui Becomes Tedious.

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Zoe vs. Happy Days; Or, "Aaaaayy"-t Ways My 6-Year-Old Out-Cools the Fonz

You've probably heard by now that Erin Moran, TV's "Joanie Cunningham," died this past weekend. If you're my age, Happy Days was a TV staple of your childhood. It remains one of the longest-running TV sit-coms of all time, and aired from 1974 to 1984.

Basically, from the time I could walk until I got rid of my retainer, Happy Days was on ABC on Tuesday nights at 8 p.m. 

Joanie, like me, was the pestering younger sister and, also like me, had freckles, so naturally I felt a spiritual connection. Also, Fonzie called her "shortcake." (Erin Moran was the same height as me too.)

The irony that I experience nostalgia looking back at Happy Days, which was itself about nostalgia for an earlier time, is not lost on me. I suppose it's just the human condition to look back on our youth and see it through this rosy glow of innocence.

Of course, it's really that a) we hadn't yet become jaded and b) we hadn't reached an age where we could injure ourselves sleeping.

But were we really "happier" or just thinner and strangers to lower back pain? What made those Happy Days happy exactly?

First of all, they weren't happier for everyone. If you were part of a certain demographic you were happy enough, and in the seventies, Happy Days probably appealed to a lot of folks, those who maybe carried wistful feelings about the years before the Vietnam War and dinner-conversation awkwardness about Free Love and the Civil Rights Movement.

But let me stop myself before I become pedantic. (Too late! you're thinking. Only pedantic people use the word pedantic. And I've used it three times now!) Besides, others have covered this ground better than I could. I'm referring of course to South Park's member berries. Member when MTV played videos? Member the View-Master? Member the Happy Days board game? I had this!

Member?! Sit on it! Member?!

If you really remember childhood though, you remember it wasn't a constant laugh track. There were lots of tears, and though you were free from the responsibilities that define adulthood, you also weren't always free when it came to making your own choices, and mistakes. 

It's no coincidence that the two "theme" songs associated with Happy Days relate to time. The "Happy Days" song lists the days of the week, spending each one with your sweetheart---referring to young love but it could also be the marital contentment of Mr. and Mrs. C. And the other theme song, "Rock Around the Clock," ticks off the wee hours and is about staying up all night dancing (let's keep it clean, folks!).

Do you have happy memories of dancing all night when you were young? Are you glad they're memories and that you don't have to do it anymore? I am. What would make me happiest now is a good night's sleep. Sleep around the clock. Or how about just halfway? Sleep has been hard to come by since Zoe arrived on the scene.

But does that mean I was happier before Zoe came along, when I could sleep in on weekends? And go out to dinner without paying for a babysitter? And see a movie while it was still in the theater? . . . Hmmm. I'm thinking.

I joke. Sort of. Of course some of the happiest moments of my life have been since Zoe was born. Usually just after she falls asleep. (Cymbal crash!) But seriously, love and joy, and discontent and happiness, they aren't numbers that keep to their own side of an equation. Happiness eludes you when you try to grasp it. In fact, don't even look directly at it. It doesn't like that. That's why people meditate. If you remain completely still, maybe happiness will lower its guard and you can catch a glimpse of it.

What if happiness looks like Potsie? 

Recently I've been able to get Zoe to sleep later on weekends because as she's getting older she can be reasoned with bribed. With age, she's also becoming a pretty cool little person too.

Dare I say, cooler even than the Fonz? . . .

"Aaaaayy"-t* Ways My 6-Year-Old Out-Cools the Fonz

1. Arthur Fonzarelli was a mechanic with a magic touch. All he had to do was hit the jukebox at Arnold's and it would turn on. Zoe's magic has the opposite effect. Her touch destroys. And after, she looks at you like, We cool, right? (Fonzie also snapped his fingers and the girls flock to his side. Zoe can't snap her fingers yet so I don't know what the effect will be.)

2. Fonzie wore the same outfit every day---jeans, white T-shirt, and black leather jacket. Zoe can pull off any fashion, including wearing her pajamas all day.

3. Fonzie's office was the bathroom at a drive-in. Zoe's office is the world.

4. In the episode where Fonzie goes blind after being hit on the head, Richie has Potsie and Ralph take apart Fonzie's motorcycle to show him he can repair it even without his sight. Zoe can put together a Lego dragon blindfolded with her hands tied behind her back. Because she has me do it for her.

5. At the Demolition Derby, Fonzie saved Pinky Tuscadero from the Malachi Crunch. Zoe is somehow able to effect a destructive pincer move though only one person.

6. There's no social critique implied by an ever-cool but also personally-stagnant greaser. Beneath the laughter, life with Zoe delivers hard-hitting truths about childhood, interpersonal power struggles, and identity politics.

7. In the episode where the Cunninghams et al go to a dude ranch, Fonzie has to ride a killer bull named Diablo. Zoe wouldn't even need to ride that bull to scare it into submission. He'd be so scared he'd legally change his name to Ferdinand T. Bull and then retire to a meadow to contemplate flowers and read poetry.

8. Fonzie famously "jumped the shark." But Zoe's charm never gets old, with or without a leather jacket.

Zoe: 162; Universe: 0

* "Eight" in Fonzie.

If you enjoyed this post, you may like Zoe vs. 1980's video games. Member Frogger?

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