1987 vs. 2009

Friday, August 21, 2009

It was 1987, I was nine, and shoulder pads were big. Reagan was in the White House. Oliver North was in trouble but I had no idea why. My parents always said it was time for bed when “thirtysomething” was on TV. It only peaked my curiosity for a moment since I wasn’t allowed to watch it. Truthfully, the guy with the red beard seemed whiney to me.
A big shoulder pad clad Diane Keaton was in a movie called “Baby Boom.” This was on TV last night and I came upon it right as it started. A flood of memories poured into my now thirty-year old mind. I don’t remember where my parents were always going, but I do remember many a babysitter and many a movie rented to watch while they did whatever they were doing. Given that the movie came out in October of 1987, I can’t say for sure when it was on video, but I remember watching it as a kid. That’s right, I said video, good old VHS.
At the time it was just a fun grown-up movie I got to watch that my parents deemed harmless. I thought the fashion was, no wait, I could have cared less about the fashion back then. Now I see the wardrobe of women in New York in 1987 and I laugh hysterically. It’s quite amusing to see Diane Keaton wearing a robe in bed that has shoulder pads. Sorry, I’ll stop talking about the shoulder pads, they’re just hard to ignore.
When I was a kid I knew Diane Keaton’s character, JC, shouldn’t give up baby Elizabeth to the boring people from Duluth. I thought it was funny when Elizabeth threw spaghetti at JC. To watch JC attempt putting a diaper on Elizabeth was hysterical since I had never done it before.
When I watched the movie last night I realized I had been to Duluth and the people are not boring. I prayed I’d never have to give my baby up for any reason. It is so not funny when a kid throws food at you. I was grateful disposable diapers no longer had tape on them but a Velcro-like material for easy fastening and adjusting.
Back then I was amazed at JC’s genius when she became a gazillionaire by making homemade baby applesauce. She realizes she doesn’t have to sacrifice a home life and love in order to have a career. She is woman, hear her roar, see her sit in a rocking chair while her baby rests her head on those giant shoulder pads.
Now I feel guilty sometimes when I am happy to drop Rylee off at daycare because she’s being a beast. Better they deal with her all day than me. I can’t afford to lose anymore sanity, my jar is almost empty and I can’t find any extra on eBay! My sanity and patience have never been more tested than in the last eight months. Rylee has been potty-training. (Insert scary “Psycho” music here.) Here is a little glimpse of what that’s been like.



Saturday at Home…

Well that was fun playing outside in the little blow-up pool. Did you have fun Rylee?

Yea! I plashed around and dumped up in da air and dumped in the pool! There was gas in da water and a ladybug.

Whoa! That’s amazing! Okay let’s get rinsed off and put on some fresh clothes.

I wanna be a pincess.

Oh you want to wear a dress?

Yea!

Okay, we can do that. (Thirty minutes later after a shower and getting dressed.)

Rylee-bug, do you need to go potty?

No.

Are you sure?

Yea.

Okay, are you going to play in the living room?

Yea.

Are you sure you don’t need to go potty?

Yea.

(Thirty seconds later the sound of a small waterfall is heard in the living room.)

Mommy! I went potty.

Oh good grief! I just asked you if you needed to go and you said no!

Okay, I’m gonna go potty. (Rylee marches to the bathroom.)

You already went baby. There’s no point in going now. Come on, let’s get you changed. John, can you come here?


Wednesday at Target…

(Family restroom by the pharmacy.)

Rylee, do you need to go potty?

Yea.

Okay, c’mon.

Don’t fush it Mommy.

I won’t until you’re outside. (The commercial grade toilets are loud and scary.)

You hold me Mom.

Okay, I gotcha. Good job!

Don’t fush it Mommy!

I won’t until you’re outside. Now it’s my turn. Wait right there, don’t touch anything!

YAY MOMMY! YOU DID IT! (This echoes in the small restroom and I’m convinced the entire store just heard what a great job I did using the toilet. I try to hold back laughter.)

Shhh…thanks Rylee! Now let’s wash our hands.

I want soap! No I wanna do it!

Okay then you do it.

I need help.

Yea, that’s what I thought stinker.


This is a drop in the bucket of the stories I could tell about Rylee’s potty training adventures. The good news is John and I have made it out of the damp cave of torture and we are breathing in fresh air finally. Rylee can still drive me crazy but I can’t remember the last time she had an accident. Little did I know when I was a kid watching “Baby Boom” that I’d be a mom one day watching “Baby Boom” saying, “Yea, it’s a good thing they don’t show the potty training part of Elizabeth’s life after she’s eaten all that homemade baby applesauce. It probably wouldn’t have been such a feel-good kind of movie. And what mom has time to make homemade baby applesauce?”