Barbie for the generations

What happens when the 2011 version of Barbie and Ken meets the fashions and furnishings of their 1970s counterparts?

Hours of fun for a certain four-year-old who now thinks "disco" is the perfect date destination, (despite having no clue what the word means), an overwhelming smell of bleach permeating my house, and a flood of memories of my own childhood adventures with Barbie.

Oh wait, that's right. I never had a Barbie of my own. I had PJ. My sister got to have Barbie. I think it had something to do with avoiding getting our toys mixed up. Nevermind that we had identical Ken dolls and two Skippers each, and never had trouble confusing those toys. I'm sure if another Barbie had been thrown in the mix, it would have been nothing but trouble.

No lingering bitterness here. No, that'd be so childish. I'm fine. Really. This is about Sydney's fun with Barbie.

Wait, even she gets a Barbie? I never had one!

It all started Saturday. Sydney was playing outside with a dish pan full of water. A more doting parent would interpret that as a sign their child needs a swimming pool. I, on the other hand, chose a cheaper route. The next day, I bought her a basic Barbie and Ken doll (Hey - at least I bought her Barbie!) and suggested Sydney take them for a dip in the "swimming pool".

That was great fun for Barbie and Ken... until they were interrupted by an unruly bunch of ghost pirates, sailors and soldiers who had to go and start a war in the middle of their pool party.

Despite the fun, something was missing for Sydney. Ken came with his own beach towel, but poor Barbie had only a swimsuit. Mommy the pack rat to the rescue!

With flashbacks of playing Barbies with my sister in the front yard of our old house in Brooklyn Center, I headed for the basement. (Lisa, if you're reading this, whatever happened to the orange and white Barbie pool? Remember filling it with the garden hose, washing our dolls' clothes in the water and then draping them all over the hood of Dad's truck to dry?)

Digging through a box of childhood mementos, I found my old PJ and Skipper dolls. They've aged quite well. The last 25 years in a box have definitely been easier on them than the first few years of loving from a young me.

But that's about all I found. And that's when I called my mom, who was coming to see us the next day. Grandma Elouise to the rescue! My mom graciously dug through their boat house, pulling out and delivering to me the Barbie PJ toys of my youth. Mold-covered and birdseed-infested - something other than Barbie seems to have been camping in the van - the majority of what she found is now deposited here:

Still, I managed to salvage enough to delight the next generation of Barbie lover in my family. 

My old Ken doll - who looked like he'd been doing battle in the trenches with GI Joe, his face was so blackened - got to take a swim of his own. In a sink filled with bleach. The rest of the dolls soon followed. Skipper still has sunglasses sewn to her head. That's some impressive thread! I know I used to try and pull the glasses off when I was little, and I caught Sydney trying to do the same. But still it's held strong.

The inflatable furniture got the bleach treatment next. Meanwhile, a bunch of clothes got thrown in a garment bag and sent through the washing machine.

Tah dah! PJ, meet Barbie and Ken and Mommy's Ken and Skipper and Skipper.

I have to ask, when did Ken get real hair? Seriously, check out the doll in the red shirt. Okay, I know it's not "real" hair, but when did he get anything other than the plastic 'do he'd sported for all those years?

A lot of the clothes had to be tossed due to rotten elastic or holes caused by wildlife. Maybe if the styles hadn't been so hideous (bell bottom fashions and wild fabric prints - lots of big flower patterns), I would have tried harder to salvage more. And I have to give my sister credit. She definitely did a better job taking care of her doll's clothes than I did with mine. 

Maybe that's why she got Barbie!

Of the clothes I saved, the gold pant suit, which I believe belonged to my sister's Barbie, has become Sydney's favorite. And so, Ken and Barbie now dress in some pretty groovy styles while hanging out on lime green, orange and yellow-striped furniture. They've spent a day at daycare for show-and-tell. And they've gone to a lot of discos, whatever those might be. (I'd casually mentioned, once we'd gotten them dressed, that they looked ready to disco. Sydney must have liked the word because she's latched on to it.)

I can only hope Sydney learns some valuable lessons from my old toys. For instance:

• Don't use a curling iron on a doll with plastic hair. It melts and doesn't grow back.
• Don't cut your doll's hair. It doesn't grow back. (It's a battle, but I'm fighting the urge to give the shaggy new Ken a trim.)
• Don't let your brother get a hold of your dolls. Heads tend to break off and need a dowel rod to be reattached.
• Do take care of your dolls. You just never know how many childhood memories they might revive 35 years later.

Nailed it!

Ever wonder why it's called a manicure, when the process is the epitome of girl time?

Sydney's friend Crystal is the one adult Sydney calls by name (as opposed to referring to her as Carver and Ethan's Mom.) I suspect Crystal has earned this special distinction thanks to a certain tradition she inadvertently started with Sydney.  

Crystal is the one who watched the kids for us when we went to the vet with Maggie that horrible night last May. While AJ played with Crystal's sons, Sydney played with Crystal. By the time we returned, Sydney was sporting painted nails and "ear rings" (small stickers on the bottom of her ear lobes.)

This clearly made an impression on my little diva. When it came time to make a guest list for her party, Sydney insisted on inviting Crystal. No mention of Carver and Ethan, but she wanted Crystal to come.

Last Friday, we got together for a playdate. Sydney started out playing with the boys, but after a short time she joined Crystal and me in the kitchen. As casually as she could, she asked, "can we do fingernails again?"

As the photo at the top shows, Crystal was more than happy to oblige. When it comes to relating to little girls, Crystal has the technique nailed!

Fireworks

With fireworks exploding o'er the land of the free, the kids surprised me, proving this is the home of the brave.

Conquering their fear of fireworks, the kids actually seemed to enjoy the light show this year. The initial boom made me a bit nervous. More accurately, their cowering reaction to the initial boom made me fear it would be a long night.

AJ relaxed soon enough and began calling out the stereotypical, "Oooh... aaahhhh... that's my favorite!"

Sydney took a little longer to appreciate the colorful night lights, sitting in my lap and covering her ears. But eventually the sparkles in the sky (Mommy's a spin doctor, don't forget.) won her over and she joined her brother, proclaiming, "That one's my favorite. That one's my favorite, too."

The purple ones were prettiest, she decided, with the pink and yellow ones a close second. "Look at the sparkles!"

AJ liked all but the ones that made a hissing sound as lights zig-zagged across the sky. He decided they sounded too much like what soldiers would hear in battle, so therefore they were bad.

But the simple fact that they watched the fireworks with eyes open and ears uncovered is an improvement of last yeat. God bless America!

Happy 4th!

God bless America.

Land that I love.

Stand beside curbs, and wave hard.

For the treats that will rain from above.

What would Independence Day be without a parade? And as the kids' buckets show, parade participants brought lots of candy to toss. And we were near the starting point when throwing arms are fresh and candy supplies are full.

As has become our tradition, my parents drove up from the Cities to join us for this red, white and blue moment of Americana.

This year, the kids moved passed their pickiness about what kind of candy they picked up. Certainly they were more motivated to chase down Skittles and Laffy Taffy than... say... the tiny Tootsie Rolls. And when a mini Twix bar came flying... whoa... whatever you do, don't get in AJ's way.

Of course, along with the tradition of parades and candy is the tradition of catching Grandpa in the act. He claims he's helping the kids, but the empty candy wrappers in his car tell a different story.

The kids had their technique down to a science. Wave and look cute. Worked almost every time.

For AJ, even more exciting than the candy was the chance to see some Bulldog Hockey players along with their championship trophy. His first question for them, "Did you get to see the President yet?"

One of the players hollered back, "Not yet."

AJ then tried to tell them he was their biggest fan, but by then, the truck had passed. AJ sat with a silly, starstruck grin on his face. It didn't even matter that they hadn't thrown candy.

(Pretend) beach day

Our bodies don't know how to handle this sudden shift in temperatures! Thursday, while the rest of the state sweltered under heat advisories, our 31,700-square-mile air conditioner (i.e. Lake Superior) kept us at just 58 degrees. By Friday, however, the wind speed dropped, so while it was still cool by the Lake, we saw 92 degrees at our house. A 34-degree difference! The hot weather continued Saturday, though not quite as extreme, so we took the kids to "The Beach," a man-made pond in Cloquet.

Jeff and I took turns wading with Sydney. She's not quite as scared of the water as AJ was at that age, but still appreciates the comfort of Mom or Dad holding her hand and catching her before she goes under water. During my shift with her, she gave me quite the upper body workout, catching her as she jumped from a small wall into the water, over and over again.

When it was Daddy's turn with her, she expected he'd do the same.

Recognizing how shallow the water was, Jeff tried to convince her to jump without him. No, she wasn't ready for that. Maybe we'll just try easing into the water.

And where was AJ all this time? Paddling around, happy as can be.

I asked him when he's going to try it without the life jacket. He answered, "um, maybe when I'm a little braver."

The kids did a much better job this year staying in the same general area of each other, making it much easier to watch them. If their cooperation, and this heat wave continues, I suspect we'll be heading back to "The Beach" often in the coming days.

Furry fun

They certainly have been busy. Our future pup and her siblings turn four weeks old today. And since our last visit nine days ago, they've grown a lot - in size and curiosity!

If the kids had their way, we'd be adopting them all. Right now. "I love this one most. Let's get this one," AJ would proclaim.

For each and every puppy he held. "Awww... hi, little sweetie," was Sydney's favorite line.

And really, you can't blame them. Who could resist a face like this?

Or a puppy that snuggles like this?

We spent over an hour with the puppies Friday afternoon. They'd been moved to a shaded porch outside. Half of them alternated between napping and playing with us. The rest just napped. Until it was time to eat. Then they all got quite lively. We watched as they were fed their first meal of ground up dog food mixed with baby cereal. It was a messy, though not particularly well-received meal. I'm sure they'll adjust.

We had to always be careful where we stepped or sat. At last one furry little bundle was constantly on the move. Which meant at least one furry little bundle was constantly squatting and making a mess. But they sure are cute. 

I think I'm the only one who remembers this weekend would have been Maggie's 11th birthday. Perhaps it's because I remember taking a picture of Jeff and Maggie in almost this exact same pose.

Still, playing with the puppies cheered us up like nothing else could. The trip also helped us figure out a likely middle name for our puppy. We've been planning on calling her Molly. During our visit, a woman who's adopted two dogs (now ages 10 and two) from this breeder was there helping. One of her dogs is named Molly Rose. You should have seen Sydney's eyes light up. Sleeping Beauty was nicknamed Briar Rose by the fairies, and Belle from Beauty and the Beast loves roses.

I suspect Molly Rose it will be.

Wildlife in our midst

If you read yesterday's blog post, you know my children showed a relative lack of interest in the animals at the zoo. Perhaps their casualness is partly because seeing wildlife up close just isn't that much of a novelty for them. Here's a sampling of what we've seen in our yard in just the last 48 hours.

Remember that tiny snapping turtle we saw crossing the street a couple weeks ago? Wednesday morning, his big brother showed up on our driveway.

I've determined the turtle is of the male gender simply because I don't want to imagine the possibility - as some friends have speculated - that its purpose in my yard is to dig a nest and lay eggs. (If that was the case, I don't think it accomplished its mission. The camera and very interested six-year-old boy who I wouldn't let get any closer than this... was enough to convince the turtle to change its direction and head back to the river.)

On the smaller, cuter and furry end of the spectrum, Chip and Dale seem to have taken up residence beneath a big bush near our garage. The chipmunks have startled us a couple times when they've show up on the porch, but overall they've actually done a pretty good job cleaning up the bird seed that's dropped from the feeder before it grows into weeds. And then one of them decided the dropped seeds weren't enough.

Busted! It was pretty entertaining, I must admit, watching it scale the shepherd's hook from which the birdfeeder hangs.

Last night, we arrived home from AJ's baseball practice and, as I parked the car, I again noticed what looked suspiciously like a turtle shell. Thankfully, this time it was a painted turtle. Look in the lower left corner and you can see it, plus what I think might have been the start of a nest just behind it.

Are we being invaded by turtles? It was seven years ago this summer that we were building the house, and in all that time I've never seen a turtle on our property. And now, two different kinds in two days.

As we all stood and gawked at the reptile, Jeff happened to look up. And that's when we saw, just beyond our backyard fence...

Who needs the zoo when we can see all this right outside our door? Minus the snapping turtle, I love our wild neighbors.