This is the song ... I Keep Hearing!
Traveling with Abbie used to be so easy. All I had to do was load the car, wake her, feed her, finish loading the car, feed her again after taking too long loading the car, buckle her into the car, throw a few more things in the car, and hit the road. She would stay awake for a little while, listening to music and playing with a toy, before drifting off to sleep. She’d usually scream herself to sleep, but after that she’d stay asleep for the entire 2+ hours remaining in the drive to her grandparents. I was free to listen to whatever I wanted for the rest of the drive, which was usually NPR’s quality weekend programming, or stone-cold silence in case “A Prairie Home Companion” was currently playing. I timed my departures to avoid that show when possible though.
This weekend, I discovered that traveling with Abbie is now as easy as sitting through an entire 18-inning ball game with no scoring between the 10th and 17th innings. Abbie’s nap duration continues to decline in the car, from 2+ hours a year ago to 45 minutes this weekend. 45 minutes isn’t even long enough to listen to a whole episode of “Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!” Even if you discount the time used for news at the beginning and theme music at the end, that’s still more than five minutes of missed show.
I could keep listening to the radio after she awakens, but that violates Rule #1 of riding with Abbie: The Sesame Street CD must be audible at all times. I’ve tried ignoring her when those eyes pop open and continue listening to whatever non-puppet related entertainment I was enjoying while she slept. She’ll stay silent for about one minute, or the duration of one “underwriter” break. After that, she realizes that she’s in the car and suffering the violation of Rule #1. The result is screaming, and not the good kind of screaming she does right before drifting to sleep for another blissful three-quarters of an hour. This is angry screaming that suggests we’re inflicting severe psychological damage, the kind of damage that will prevent her from attending a prestigious post-secondary institution upon turning 18, or even an out of town school so she’ll move out of the house. Turn on the Sesame Street CD, and she quickly calms down, content to watch the pastures fly by to the soothing accompaniment of Oscar the Grouch. When the CD ends, hit repeat because she wants to hear it again. When you tire of listening to goofy-voiced puppeteers, too bad. When your body convulses as a defense mechanism to the exuberant repetitions, at that point you should pull over.
Only the Sesame Street CD will suffice. Big person music inflicts the same psychological scars. This is doubtlessly the first of many judgments she will make about our choice of music and other forms of entertainment. After deciding I couldn’t stomach another round of Elmo and his damned song, I popped in a Muppet CD. I figured the Muppets are practically the same thing: They’re both puppets, they have many of the same voices, and both albums even have a version of “It’s Not Easy Bein’ Green.” Abbie cared naught for the similarities, reacting with the same disdain she’d show if I put something really boring on the radio, like a local talk show or “The Splendid Table.” I flipped it back to Sesame Street, and all was calm for the next many minutes.
In the interest of maintaining my sanity, I have a box set of generic children’s music that I’m trying to work into her traveling rotation. My secret is to burn the best tracks onto a disc with her Sesame Street favorites, then hit the “random” button. That way we hear music owned by Jim Henson’s heirs, the Children’s Television Workshop, and public domain mixed together, giving her a chance to process a new song between two favorites. That way she learns new music, and maybe it becomes acceptable entertainment on car trips instead of the same CD three or four times in one ride. This box set can be just as annoying as the Sesame Street CD, but at least it adds a little variety. Plus it’s still better than “A Prairie Home Companion.”
This weekend, I discovered that traveling with Abbie is now as easy as sitting through an entire 18-inning ball game with no scoring between the 10th and 17th innings. Abbie’s nap duration continues to decline in the car, from 2+ hours a year ago to 45 minutes this weekend. 45 minutes isn’t even long enough to listen to a whole episode of “Wait Wait… Don’t Tell Me!” Even if you discount the time used for news at the beginning and theme music at the end, that’s still more than five minutes of missed show.
I could keep listening to the radio after she awakens, but that violates Rule #1 of riding with Abbie: The Sesame Street CD must be audible at all times. I’ve tried ignoring her when those eyes pop open and continue listening to whatever non-puppet related entertainment I was enjoying while she slept. She’ll stay silent for about one minute, or the duration of one “underwriter” break. After that, she realizes that she’s in the car and suffering the violation of Rule #1. The result is screaming, and not the good kind of screaming she does right before drifting to sleep for another blissful three-quarters of an hour. This is angry screaming that suggests we’re inflicting severe psychological damage, the kind of damage that will prevent her from attending a prestigious post-secondary institution upon turning 18, or even an out of town school so she’ll move out of the house. Turn on the Sesame Street CD, and she quickly calms down, content to watch the pastures fly by to the soothing accompaniment of Oscar the Grouch. When the CD ends, hit repeat because she wants to hear it again. When you tire of listening to goofy-voiced puppeteers, too bad. When your body convulses as a defense mechanism to the exuberant repetitions, at that point you should pull over.
Only the Sesame Street CD will suffice. Big person music inflicts the same psychological scars. This is doubtlessly the first of many judgments she will make about our choice of music and other forms of entertainment. After deciding I couldn’t stomach another round of Elmo and his damned song, I popped in a Muppet CD. I figured the Muppets are practically the same thing: They’re both puppets, they have many of the same voices, and both albums even have a version of “It’s Not Easy Bein’ Green.” Abbie cared naught for the similarities, reacting with the same disdain she’d show if I put something really boring on the radio, like a local talk show or “The Splendid Table.” I flipped it back to Sesame Street, and all was calm for the next many minutes.
In the interest of maintaining my sanity, I have a box set of generic children’s music that I’m trying to work into her traveling rotation. My secret is to burn the best tracks onto a disc with her Sesame Street favorites, then hit the “random” button. That way we hear music owned by Jim Henson’s heirs, the Children’s Television Workshop, and public domain mixed together, giving her a chance to process a new song between two favorites. That way she learns new music, and maybe it becomes acceptable entertainment on car trips instead of the same CD three or four times in one ride. This box set can be just as annoying as the Sesame Street CD, but at least it adds a little variety. Plus it’s still better than “A Prairie Home Companion.”
posted by Matt at
9:52 PM
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