We Finally Saw the Wizard

"A heart is not measured by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others." -My favorite line from The Wizard of Oz 

"The Wizard of Oz" (1939/Rated G): You ever get something in your head, and you make a bigger deal of it than it actually is? In hindsight, that's probably what My Director and I did with The Wizard of Oz. We played up in our minds that it was way too scary to show to Peanut until she was "ready." (Whatever ready means.) Turns out, besides being a little freaked out by the witch every time she popped up, Peanut was fine. She had no problem sleeping that night, and we proceeded to watch it 27 more times the rest of the week.

To put our hesitation over showing Peanut this movie into perspective, the day after we watched it for the first time we were joking with friends of ours who took their five year-old boys to see The Dark Knight Rises. How's THAT for opposite ends of the spectrum? Not something I would do, but to each their own.

As for The Wizard of Oz itself, it had been at least ten years if not more since I had seen it. And let me tell you, I fell in love with it all over again. (What can I say? I'm a sucker for nostalgia.) It not only transports me to a different place, it transports me to a different time. To when I had to wait for the once-a-year event, when it would air on CBS on a Sunday night in March. My parents would let me stay up late to watch it with them. The cowardly lion is my favorite, by the way. He steals the show in my opinion. (Little-known DKL fact: I played the cowardly lion in a play once and killed it.)

"What do they got that I ain't got?"

Watching it again, I couldn't help but think of its place in movie history, in American pop culture history. Did you know The Wizard of Oz lives in Library of Congress? Think about how groundbreaking it was for its time. I am in awe even though I know Dorothy and her friends are clearly dancing to the end of a sound stage when they turn a corner on the yellow brick road and skip off screen. I am still awed even though you can clearly see the string that makes the cowardly lion's tail wag. And the "city" of Oz is really just a big room decorated green.

Still, the magic and the wonder take hold of me.

As a dog owner I do feel compelled to point out Toto's big naughty scene. As much as he is a hero who escapes Mrs. Gultch, leads the three friends to save Dorothy, and ultimately reveals the wizard's true identity, he decides to act up at the worst, most crucial time. Just when Dorothy is about to be sent home, he jumps out of her arms to go after a cat and the wizard takes off in his balloon without her. Bad dog. Otherwise, Toto saves the day most of this movie.

And while I'm pointing out some issues with the movie, the witch's guards are so inept they can't spear a runaway dog? And Glinda the Good Witch has the nerve to float in on her bubble in the penultimate scene and tell Dorothy she had the ability to go home all along? That information would have been very helpful back in Munchkinland, lady. Also:

Still, The Wizard of Oz is a timeless classic. I'm sure if you've read this far you have fond memories of watching it as a child, and/or with your child. Its initial viewing in your home with your child should be an event. But I would recommend waiting until at least the age of five because of the scary parts.

Our paranoia over this movie being too scary for Peanut came from the nightmares she had after watching another movie. You can read about that here. 

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Driving Me to Drink

"Wherever you may go. No matter where you are. I never will be far away." -Billy Joel, Goodnight, My Angel

I needed this

I don't do a lot of day drinking anymore. Between parenting and half-marathon training I simply can't drink as much I used to pre-Peanut. I still remember when three beers was breakfast. Now I'm such a lightweight that after three beers I can't function for the next two days. All of that went out the window Saturday afternoon. A car came inches from changing our lives forever. It frazzled me so much I popped open a Brooklyn Pennant Ale at 4:15, shortly after this disturbing incident that still gives me chills when I think about it. I was still on the clock by myself with Peanut. I didn't care. I had to take the edge off. This was my exception.

The encounter that literally drove me to drink took place as I was walking Peanut home from a play date. Her friend  lives down the street from us, on the other side of a busy two-lane road that separates our two blocks. We live on the corner of that busy road; so I see drivers speed by pedestrians all of the time. Drivers in our town are notoriously fast, obnoxious, dangerous, and impatient. You're supposed to stop for people in the crosswalk. Even when they do stop, I see the drivers behind them try to pass on the shoulder with the pedestrians (and their children and dogs) still on the shoulder waiting for the drivers in the opposite direction to stop.

Knowing this, I am always vigilant when crossing this street with Peanut and Luna. Peanut, however, was in one of her moods all of a sudden. She didn't want to hold my hand or walk on my right side away from the traffic.This had me on even heightened alert because when she's difficult she's almost impossible to corral. What five year-old is?

The crosswalk of peril

I saw that the driver in the lane closest to us had stopped, and that it was one of our neighbors. We weren't in the crosswalk yet and I like to show Peanut the rules of the road. I saw the traffic in the other lane stop for us as well. So with her in her current state and cars waiting, I didn't have time to explain proper daddy-daughter street-crossing safety procedures to her. Big mistake.

Out of nowhere, a car came speeding past the stopped traffic on the shoulder. I had no idea. Peanut was still on my left-hand side, closest to the traffic. I pulled her towards me not to protect her, but because I was angry at her. Turns out, my impatience probably saved her life. I am not exaggerating. I didn't even see or hear the car coming. It happened so fast, I couldn't even register the make and model. I looked up to see it buzz by on the shoulder, recklessly enter the lane of traffic, and never look back.

Frazzled and scared out of my mind, I bent down to find Peanut crying. She was as clueless about the car as I initially was. Instead, she was upset that I had yanked her, hurt her, and scared her. I squatted, hugged her tightly, and apologized. Even though I knew how close we had just come to a potential tragedy, that didn't matter in Peanut's world. Internally, I'm freaking out. My stomach is in knots, my nerves are frayed and I am doing all I can not to tremble so out of control that I collapse to the ground in a crying heap. After all, had I done that, another jerk passing on the shoulder would have run me over and never looked back.

All of this happened in about 15 seconds

I looked up to find my neighbor still sitting there in his car waiting for us. He waved us across. Once outside of our house, I knelt down to Peanut again and spoke to her about what really just happened. How we could have been hurt, or worse. I wanted her to know how serious this was, without scaring the living sh1t out of her.

"When you're crossing the street with mommy or daddy, you need to listen. No more arguing. No more saying you don't want to hold hands. You don't get to choose where you walk. We're in charge. It's very dangerous. Cars are going fast and the people driving can't see you because you're little. If they hit you, you can get really hurt. Or worse. They could... take you away." I couldn't bring myself to say the word 'die.' My emotions were still so raw from what had just happened. Minutes later, I cracked open that beer. For the rest of the day, the close call was all I could think about. It consumed me. I kept a brave face for Peanut. Every time I looked at her, though, I was just so relieved.

That night, before I went to bed I made my usual stop in Peanut's room to kiss her goodnight. She was lying there, off in dreamland, not a care in the world. I knelt next to her bed, kissed her cheek, put my arm around her and snuggled with her. I laid there for a good minute or two. Just looking at how perfect she is, amazed that we made her, and thankful that she's ok. You do all you can to protect them, to make sure they're safe and happy. Then you turn your head for a split second and everything could change. Somehow, some way, by some unknown miracle, it didn't change for us. And I am so thankful. So blessed.

As I got up, I whispered in Peanut's ear. "I love you so much. I'm always going to be here to protect you."

Suddenly, she stirred. She twitched. She thrashed her left foot hard and landed a kick square in my chest, sending me reeling backwards. Stunned and woozy, I checked to see if I had woken her up. No. She's a sound sleeper and was still out like a light. That's my girl. My little independent fighter. She's going to be just fine. A kick in the chest never felt so good.

This happened the same day as the unsolicited advice from the two d-bags. Yeah, it was THAT kind of day. 

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Shelter From the Storm

"If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds and that old north wind should begin to blow." -James Taylor

My daughter will only know how terrified I was of Hurricane Irene if she reads this post one day.

Terri. Fied.

Why? Because I just didn't know. I didn't know if I took all of the necessary precautions and stocked up on all of the necessary supplies. I didn't know if I was making the right decisions.

I didn't know if I could do it without my wife.

She had to work this weekend. This was move-in weekend at the college where she works and it's her event. She had to make sure everything went smoothly. Make sure everyone was safe.

But what about us?

I protested. I guilt-tripped her. I told her she was putting herself in harm's way by staying in the city, which was expecting a direct hit from the storm. I said her bosses were being stubborn. I laid it on thick.

She told me, "I have two words for you: nine eleven."

She was right. When 9/11 happened I was gone for nearly a week. I stayed in the city. I put myself in harm's way. We were on high alert. My station was a block from the United Nations, a potential target.

So I relented. I knew where she wanted to be. The same place where I wanted her to be.

Still terrified at the thought of enduring a hurricane alone with the Peanut, I thought about driving her west to my in-laws, dropping her off, then turning around to stay with the house. I thought they might not get it as bad. (Turns out they lost power and we didn't).

I imagined hugging her goodbye, knowing what was ahead of us, and I nearly broke down. The thought of abandoning her like that just broke my heart. Even though she would not have seen it that way. She would have loved staying at her grandparents' house.

No... we'd ride it out together. I'd put on my brave face. I'd pray. A lot. I'd think about my parents. How the hell did they seem so calm during Hurricane Gloria in 1985? Or were they filled with the same anxiety I was feeling now? Did I just not know it because they had put on a brave face?

Peanut hungry for pasta & chicken cutlets

Luckily, some friends were coming over to wait out the storm with us. So I told the Peanut it was going to be a party. We kept busy. We played games. We watched movies. I cooked two meals because apparently I cook when I'm nervous. We drank beer. (Not the Peanut.) Lots of beer.

As the storm picked up, whipping rain and wind against the house, we went through our normal bedtime routine. Potty. Brush teeth. Wash hands and face. Book. Silly shadows. Race down the hall. Kiss and hug goodnight. Brave face.

My biggest fear was something happening to the house, and Peanut freaking out. A power outage. Or worse... One of the many trees around our property crashing down. I woke up a few times during the night to check on everything. I looked out the windows, scanned the trees in the yard, checked on the Peanut, and inspected for possible Luna bombs on the living room carpet downstairs.

The little pump that could

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