Tag Archives: Sesame Street

“I may not know how to walk, but I RUN this house.”

3 Dec

I am constantly bemoaning the fact that I can’t get my son to watch any TV. He refuses.

I am not looking for him to be television obsessed, but it would be nice if he could sit for 15 minutes and watch Elmo.

At this age, my daughter would have spent 3 hours watching DJ Lance if I would have let her.

But my son? Not at all.

The only thing he will sit for, up until this point, has been the three minute music video for “All About That Bass”.

I have tried Baby Einstein, Sesame Street, Cartoons, Live Action…and, inevitably, he sits for a minute and then wriggles off of my lap and eats a candle or something.

UNTIL this morning! This morning, as we played with one of his music toys, I had last night’s Real Housewives of Beverly Hills episode on the living room TV, and all of a sudden, he was mesmerized. During the scene when Portia went shopping he even got on his stomach and propped his face up onto his elbows, as he watched the little girl on the screen.

So there you have it. I had been trying desperately for Elmo,

when all I really needed

was Bravo.



“I’ll be getting stronger.”

14 Nov

I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, and I certainly am NOT looking for pity, when I just say, honestly, that this past year I have been kicked when I have already been ever so down. I have been laid pretty low.

And I have nightmares. That is a very personal thing to admit, but it’s true. (I erased that sentence four times before deciding to leave it.) I have bad dreams about the things and people who have hurt me. It is hard, and it makes me clench my teeth at night, so I have developed TMJ. Which in the scheme of things, is nothing; but a physically painful reminder of things I would like to forget.

I wrote a friend this morning when I woke up at 5am. “Why won’t they stop??” I asked.

I spoke to my husband over lunch and talked with him about it, too. “What do you think this is really about? Will they go away?”

But the main sentiment is that this past year has been traumatic, and trauma leads to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is something that i have. And it takes awhile to get over. So I am working every single minute of every single day to get stronger.

And just now I decided to play some Sesame Street videos for my baby who never slows down enough to watch any kind of TV whatsoever (how did this person come out of ME?!?!?!?!) and I came across an old favorite that my daughter used to love;

Will.i.am. singing “What I am”

and as silly and as lame as it may sound, this song touched me. It gave me warm memories of my big girl being a baby; it stopped my son for 15 second intervals, as he watched and listened; I felt empowered by it’s message and I felt so glad that children would be taught the same.

And what I am is thoughtful
and what I am is musical
and what I am is smart
and what I am is brave
and what I am is helpful
and what I am is special
There’s nothing I can’t achieve.
Because in myself I believe in…

Gonna hold my head up high
Keep on reaching high

Never gonna stop
I’ll be getting stronger.

I hope you enjoy. Have a very happy, peaceful weekend. And be good to yourself. I insist.

Is it just me,

15 Jan

or did Jake Gyllenhal just get 18 times hotter with his appearance on Shalom Sesame’s “It’s Passover, Grover!

Come on! The dimples! The Afikomen sticking out of his breast pocket!

Who’s with me?!

I thought so.

Um, excuse me, but…

6 Jan

One of these things is not like the other,

15 Nov

one of these things just doesn’t belong.

Ahhhhh, motherhood.

(And p.s. is this DVR not an embarrassment of riches? Now, if only I had the time to watch all of my Bravo….again I say, ahhhhh motherhood.)

Putting on the finishing touches…

31 Oct


did you guess right?

More to come.

In the meantime,

can you tell me how to get….

“Oh, what is the letter we love?”

14 Nov



See this guy right up there? That would be my daughter’s main squeeze.

Apparently, he’s also known as Elmo.

Apparently, he’s kind of cute.

Apparently, we have a long history, as I had an original Tickle Me Elmo doll;

you know, the one that people camped out at Toys R Us to buy, in the days before Ebay and Amazon, and caused quite the sensation? Yeah, I needed to have a personal security escort when I brought him to my school’s pajama day. But, that is neither here nor there.

My baby loves her some Elmo.

She loves to play with her Elmo phone.

She loves to hear Elmo sing his song and dance with his quacking ducks.

She loves when I impersonate him and when we make her Elmo toy pop up and shout.

Apparently, babies go crazy for Elmo.


So, I was happy to see my husband put on Sesame Street the other day, as he watched her from afar (he was sick, remember?)

as I made, yet another, huge pot of soup.

I grew up on Sesame Street. In fact, I just called my parents to ask them a Sesame-related-question, and they both broke out into the “National Association of W Lovers” song, still remembering every word by heart. My sister and I spent our early childhoods Following That Bird, singing “Who are the People in your Neighborhood” and having Cookie Monster serenade us from his perch on a crescent moon. My dad and sister spent every single night listening to the Sesame Street lullaby tape, as they sang along, in Yiddish, as she fell asleep.

And so, it really thrills me that my daughter seems to love the Sesame characters as I did. As much as I do.

I felt very content as I chopped up some turnips to the sound of Prairie Dawn’s high voice in the other room, when I heard my husband shout, “Oh my goodness!”

Now, I’m sure you can imagine what my first thought was:

What’s wrong? What happened? Is the baby OK? Did you infect her with your snottyness?

My husband came charging into the kitchen, with a giant smile on his face, as he spoke about 3 times faster than usual.

“We’re watching Sesame Street and the letter of the day is K I was like ‘Oh my goodness, do you know that your daddy’s name begins with the letter K?’ and then I realized; the baby doesn’t know my first name!!!! Can you believe it?? She doesn’t even know my first name!!!!!”

I couldn’t help but to lose it, in that moment,

doubling over in laughter,

as my soup bubbled in the pot next to me.

C is for cookie

C is for cuteness

K is for my husband, who, sometimes, reminds me of just how cute he really is.

I know.

That was bad.

But, I had to.

And if anyone asks,

the big yellow bird made me do it.