Photo A Day, Day 5: I Collect...

A lot of people I know have collections of things. Some friends of mine collect unusual and funny salt and pepper shakers. Several have collections of antique teacups. Another collects Bakelite jewelry. My aunt has a gorgeous collection of carnival glass. Others have collections of shoes, or purses, or wine glasses, or theater programs. Somehow, I’ve never managed to develop a love for one single thing that was deep enough to want a whole bunch of them. I have a few coffee mugs, but not really a collection. I have several blown glass vases, but not enough to consider them a collection. As a child, though, I did have one beloved – and extensive – collection: My stuffed animals. My collection was so extensive, in fact, that my dad built a circus wagon toy box to keep them in. (Which my sister occasionally used to keep ME in.)

My own collection is long gone, sold in yard sales, donated to the Salvation Army, or given to friends, with one single remaining prized member still residing in my bedroom (Lady from “Lady in the Tramp,” in case you’re wondering). But there is a new collection of stuffed animals in my home, belonging to my daughter. My son passed on a few of his old “stuffies,” my grown stepdaughter even handed down her much-loved “Chow-Chow the Cow,” and the collection continued to grow with every gift-giving occasion (and many non-gift-giving occasions), until her bed is so full of stuffies that there’s hardly room for her.

This photo shows literally only about a third of her collection. The pink sock monkey has a brown twin and a big brother; the giraffe has a big-eyed baby and a larger mother; the bears have a family the size of the Duggar clan (including in-laws) in every color of the rainbow; the elephant is joined in the jungle by tigers and hippos; and although the cheery pink monster dubbed “Goo” is unique, she has many friends of similarly unidentifiable or questionable species. This collection is a menagerie of epic proportion.

As is the case with many collectors and their collections, my daughter has a few special favorites among the bunch. As I’ve mentioned in the past, Pink and her sock monkey brother, E.E., are her constant companions. Goo is a favorite naptime cuddler, as are the various assorted giraffes. But there are no beasties in her collection whom she doesn’t love dearly, none who are never bestowed with great affection, not one who is not missed should he/she/it fall under the bed or behind the couch.

And, as is also the case with many collectors and their collections, my daughter is not in the slightest bit averse to constantly adding to her collection. She has more than enough love to go around. Just maybe not quite enough bed. 

June 17 Photo: In Your Bag

I’m always carrying a bag. I’m a woman, so I’m usually carrying some kind of handbag or purse. I’m also a mother of two children in diapers, so I’m usually also carrying a diaper bag. (And if I’m not, you can be sure the handbag or purse that I AM carrying is doubling as a diaper bag.) And since today I’m also a vacationer, you can bet there are plenty of bags around me right now.

Now that I stop and think about it, I’m not sure how many bags I do actually have at the moment. I’m in the process of moving my family from staying at a hotel to pitching a tent at a campground, so my minivan is impressively full of bags. As well as the previously-mentioned handbag and diaper bag, I have a bag with a full-size, three-room tent in it, complete with stakes and a rainfly. I have three sleeping bags. I have a pack-and-play crib in a bag. I have a suitcase full of clothes. I have a bag of baby food, a bag of kid snack food, and a bag of adult snack food. I have a bag of trucks and bubble stuff. I have a bag of extra diapers, wipes, diaper rash cream, formula, and bottles. I have a bag of pillows and blankets. But perhaps the most important bag of all is my bag of snugglies.

The blue-jammied bear with the saucy red curl (aka “Bear”) is my son’s current bedmate of choice. The dog on the right with the jingle bells and the wiggly bone (aka “Jingle Dog”) keeps my daughter entertained in her crib when she’s on the brink between sleeping and waking (in either direction). The owl with the built-in teething ring (aka “Owl”) keeps her entertained in the car (at least, it does until she catapults it behind her car seat where I can’t reach it). And the plastic cup with cheery Jessie the Cowgirl on it (you can see we do better with toys that come pre-named) keeps my son occupied in the car.

Without these four dear friends, long trips with two small children would be much more difficult and tear-filled. You could say there’s a little bit of travel magic in my bag.

Mr. Whipple Had It Right

I'm probably showing my age by referencing this, but hopefully at least some of you remember those wonderful Charmin toilet paper commercials with Mr. Whipple begging his customers, "Please, don't squeeze the Charmin!", all the while hugging a package himself.

Mr. Whipple couldn't resist the squeezable softness - who could? The package even has a cute baby on the label, since babies are always associated with soft squeezableness.

Well, pretty much everything about Ryan is soft and squeezeable. We had friends over for dinner last weekend who happen to be anticipating the arrival of their first grandchild in a few months, and when the grandma-to-be met Ryan, she immediately called to her husband, "Oooh, come feel how soft his skin is!" His arms and legs and face are so perfectly smooth. I often laugh that he doesn't have a single pore anywhere on his body - his skin is just a perfect, soft, supple sheet. Whenever I change his diaper, I kiss his belly because it's so soft and warm and, well, kissable. I rub his nose with mine all the time because it's so perfectly soft and smooth. And when he's getting ready for his bath, his naked, dimply little bottom perched on my arm feels like silky satin, it's so soft.

And then there's his hair - it's softer than a puppy's fur, softer than a baby chick, softer than the down on a duckling. I can't even think of anything soft enough to compare it to. It feels as soft as a muppet's fluffy ostrich hair looks.

(the resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?)

Even aside from Ryan himself, all of his stuff is soft. His stuffed animals are the softest plush, just begging to be cuddled and squeezed. His blankets are fleece or fur, and his clothes are all soft, nappy, touchable fabric. Everything around him is an invitation to pat and caress and snuggle.

(for those of you who have seen the "Sandy at the Dentist" video, this is NOT Ryan in the infamous "unicorn reindeer" outfit - but it's the closest approximation I could find)

So I'm with Mr. Whipple - I won't be saying not to squeeze anything, but I'll certainly be walking around giving the soft bundle in my arms all the squeezes and snuggles I can.