Bring on the Batteries

For my final installment of all things crow, I insist upon holding on to some speck of dignity. I proudly declare our home a MBFT (Mostly Battery Free Toy) zone. Stella doesn't play with any of those annoying battery-operated I'm-going-to-kill-Elmo-the-next-time-he-giggles-and-shakes-his-tush toys. Of course, that's not to say she hasn't seen them. She delights over them at friends' houses, and I love that she can have her fill there and then come home to toys that help Mama stay sane. She owns one techno gadget - a ridiculously cute toy cell phone - and that's it. (This is particularly amusing to everyone in our lives because I don't even own a cell phone. My toddler has already surpassed me in her technological prowess.)

It's not that I think talking (signing, dancing, burping.... ) toys are dangerous. They're not. I just think our lives are a lot simpler and quiet right now without them. I have to live with all this stuff too, and I prefer the good old fashioned wood and cloth stuff.

They feel better.

They sound better.

They look better.

Stella will have plenty of time to obsess over whatever her generation comes up with to replace Ipods and cell phones. Right now, I'd like her to revel in playing with natural materials. I don't feel preachy about this at all, and I have absolutely no judgment about these toys in other people's homes. This is just what works for us.

But rather than present myself as an annoyingly die hard crunchy Mama, I must admit that I recently bought a whole bag of toys I never thought I'd let in my house. In anticipation for an upcoming international plane ride with Stella, there are two Target bags sitting in my office, full of ridiculously plasticy battery operated toys. Stella doesn't know they're there, and I'm keeping it that way. I plan on stuffing a backpack full of this crud for the plane. If she starts to lose it and crayons don't do the trick, we're busting out the plastic. I figure I'd rather have a toddler comatose from playing with some stupid singing laptop than have her lose her mind because she's played with her hand-crafted stacking blocks five thousand times. She'll most likely love these toys since they're the forbidden fruit, and I hope to feel smugly satisfied as we "enjoy" an eight hour international plane ride with a sixteen month old.

I took a look at the toys last night and was totally amused by the graphics. What exactly are these kids expressing here?

Will Stella really learn a bit of Spanish with this ridiculous talking whatchamacallit?

I really never thought I'd buy any of these toys. It actually pained me a bit to walk through those aisles and see so much stuff. But I did. And while they will quickly disappear once we are done traveling, they will live quietly, tucked in a closet and ready for the next plane ride.

So there. I've eaten my crow. I know there will be more helpings. It seems like life offers a wild array of crow buffets if you're willing to pull up a chair and own up to your own blunders. The feedback I've received from folks, both friends and strangers, is that all of these experiences are more than common. They're normal and healthy, just part of life with children. Everyone's comments have been immensely comforting and slightly hilarious. So thank you, thank you, thank you. It's made my own Mama journey that much easier.