The Survival Guide for Rookie Moms

I’d been warned Toy Story 3 was a tear jerker. We saw it this weekend and sure enough 10 minutes before the end I was battling with a golfball-sized lump in my throat. It’s fine to have a silent weep in the movie theater, but as I got more choked up I was a little worried that my pent up tears were about to explode in an all-too-audible sob. I looked over at Pickle and she was fine, and hubs wants to stress that of course he was fine too (man grunt), but my mom was doing some discreet dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and we had a little mom-to-mom giggle about it when the lights went up.

I’ve always been a weeper in films, in fact having a good cry watching a movie at home is part of the enjoyment (think the full box of tissues flicks: Beaches, ET, Steel Magnolias, Kramer vs Kramer, Forest Gump, Titanic, Schindler’s List, The Color Purple, The Green Mile) but I think it’s worse now I’m a mom – my emotional dial seems to have been turned up a couple of notches. I sniveled through Carl & Ellie’s little silent love-story in Up and even had watery eyes at the death of the firefly in ‘The Princess and the Frog.

One thing that struck me as unrealistic in Toy Story 3 (what? aside from the main characters being walking, talking toys?) was that those playthings were in remarkably good condition considering their age and what Andy put them through in his highly imaginative games. Anyway, it got me to thinking about my childhood toys. I didn’t have a whole gang of play pals like Andy did, but I did have a Woody equivalent. Sitting here at the computer in my mum & dad’s house where we’re holidaying for a couple of weeks I can look over and see my Woody squashed a little unceremoniously under a couple of other less important bears. She needs rescuing and treating with a little more respect!

Meet Linda bear.

Now here is what a well-loved toy looks like in real life – she’s stained, has threadbare paws and seems to have suffered some kind of multiple internal organ collapse. I have to admit Linda wasn’t my first love. That was a white bear called Snowy. But one day when I was about 18 months old, 3 of us went on a shopping trip and tragically only 2 returned. I was inconsolable until a kind auntie bought me Linda as a replacement. Linda was my bedtime pal, my plaything and my friend. She wasn’t a toy; she was real. I had a vanity case full of doll’s clothes, mostly knitted by relatives, to dress her in (I’m a little concerned that she’s now sitting on the shelf naked). When my mum was pregnant with my brother my parents let me choose the middle names. Had he been a girl he would have been named ‘Claire Linda’. Linda had to be left behind when we moved to Canada in 1999 because we were traveling light and she now lives in peaceful semi-retirement here at my parents’.

It’s wise to keep a couple of things in mind when offering up potential Woodys to a little one. Firstly try to dissuade them from falling in love with a ‘surface wash only’ pal. Inevitably Baby’s lovvie will be barfed on, dropped down the toilet, dragged around the playground, and used as a tissue. After any such ordeal a washable pal can be wrestled from Baby’s clutches, given a quick joy-ride in the washing machine and be back on duty before morning. Secondly, it’s good to have an identical understudy buddy waiting in the wings. The back-up can step in while #1 takes that trip to the laundry and can take over permanently to save heartbreak if #1 suffers the same fate as my Snowy.

Pickle’s Woody is Bedtime Bunny. (S)he must be the only toy to have had a sex change. He was most definitely a boy when Pickle first became attached to him, despite being pink. To me he looked like a guy bunny comfortable with his feminine side. But then about 2 years ago Pickle became gender conscious and everything in her inner circle had to be feminine and (luckily for BB) pink. BB was suddenly a ‘She’. BB is thankfully washable but sadly has no understudy. I wanted to buy a bunny backup and I knew the shop that stocked them, but by the time I realized the hold he she had on Pickle’s heart it was too late – pink bunnies were no longer in stock. BB is therefore only allowed to accompany us out of the house if we are staying away from home over night. If I had my way BB wouldn’t be allowed to stray out of Pickle’s bed. All too often there is a panic at bedtime when the ‘stupid rabbit’ (my words, not hers) can’t be located. After 20 minutes of frantic searching we’ll find him her stuffed in the wine rack, a backpack, a dressing gown pocket – all depending on the last game BB was involved in. Bedtime Bunny simply has to be found otherwise Pickle will ‘never sleep again’ (her words, not mine).

Filed under: Parenting Tagged: | Family, Parenting, Teddy bear, Toy Story 3, Woody