The Reluctant Godmother

Just about anyone who has crossed paths with me over the last 6 years knows that I have a hate/love relationship with Los Angeles. Most days leaned to the hate side for reasons common to any Right Coast transplant. No seasons or street life. No delis. Little culture. Microwaved egg sandwiches (ick). Horrendous traffic and worse drivers. Crappy pizza and bagels. Oppressive Valley heat, unending strips of strip malls. Ubiquitous fake boobs on blondes and the pathetic men who chase them. The fact that The Biz pretty much is the single business in town.

Slowly I have grown to appreciate - and on good days, love - this place. There really are lots of interesting places and things to explore. Some of them I’m writing about here. And so what if it takes a bit of research and time behind the wheel to suss them out?

Case in point: the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. Hundreds of acres of scenic views and hiking trails in honest-to-goodness wild right smack in the middle of the “city”. There’s (in)famous Runyon Canyon, where many a starlet can be seen with her designer dog. Too much dog poop for me, but you can’t beat the proximity! Or there’s Wilacre off Fryman and Coldwater with its cute doggie fountain, eucalyptus in the breeze, Tree People eco-hikes, and the adorable amphitheater.

Or my newest find, Franklin Canyon, where you can walk around the reservoir, or sit on benches and watch the mallards paddle in the duck pond. Up the fire-road Hastrain trail, I passed bamboo patches, with fragant fennel patches in the shade of the bamboo. I crushed leaves of what I think was California bay laurel, and its refreshing scent stayed with me for about 1/2 mile. Huge dragonflies. Flocks of something like guinea hens disturbed from their rushes. Lizards galore. Amazing views, though it’s too smoggy today to see the Pacific.

Who knew? And miles more trail to discover before I leave…

I do a stocking for Mom at Christmas, and will typically shop for it all year collecting little do-dads here and there. Come December I get to wrap each little item and position them in the stocking and it is probably more fun for me than for her. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving!

I admit there is an element of competition coming out in carefully selecting, wrapping and presenting these pressies. And it seems like we are presented with so many more gift obligations as the years pass and we celebrate our friends’ milestone events. Much has been written on the ridiculous stream of obligatory events that surround today’s weddings, but for now I’ll lay off the topic and focus on the gift giving.

When it comes to engagement and wedding gifts are fairly easy: buy off the registry. There’s not much opportunity for creativity. Fast forward to baby and baby shower and you will also have a registry at Babies R’ Us, Pottery Barn, Target or even La Leche League to work from. If you can jump on that registry early, I’ll clue you in to a showstopper gift. I guarantee it will impress everyone when you casually position it on the gift table. And it will do wonders to smooth over the fact (if anyone notices) that you ditched out of the shower early in search of a medicating grande margarita.

I know you will be tempted by the miniature smocked and appliqued onesies and rompers. Avoid! Grandmas and sisters tend to throw down for the layette. Oblivious singles will buy the adorable smocked dress with 16 buttons in size 0-3, and it will be oohed and aahed but never worn. Or, the little angel will inevitably puke and poop all over it and by the time Mom can get it out of the wash she will have grown and it will just about fit the teddy bear. You run the same risk with buying larger sizes, because you have no idea how big the baby will be at birth. Plus, add the possibility that the season will be off by the time he grows into the outfit.

You want to show your superior gift-giving skills and be remembered as the top, insightful and helpful Auntie. Books are a fantastic gift. From old to new classics, you will be building a library for your little one that can be enjoyed for years, unlike yesterday’s favorite toys. I give the little ones in my life books on almost every occasion. But for a show-stopper, here’s what you do.

Nearly every mom-to-be will register for a baby bathtub for the sink. Buy it. Quick. Then nab all the bath-related items on the list and feel free to add-on as inspiration strikes.

Hooded towels are great for covering baby’s head and preventing chills, and help you get a grip on a slippery squirmy infant. The ones that look like animals are especially cute. Bonus points if you can find one that ties into the designated nursery scheme! Robes are adorable but not very practical for a little one who will not want you fussing to push hands into the sleeves. Get a generous bunch of baby-sized terry washcloths. Make sure you get 100% cotton, which will be harder than you’d think. Don’t blow your budget on these items: you can pick them up in Babies R’Us, KMart, Target, or any other discount store. As for colors, smart designers are doing these in colors other than the traditional soft pinks, blues and yellows. If you know the sex of the baby, your choice can be more obvious but remember that some moms abhor all pink for their babies. Safer to go with anything BUT pink, unless you know for sure.

This is yet another advantage to avoiding outfits: you’d be amazed how many moms - and dads - have strong opinions about what kind of clothes will make it into the precious one’s wardrobe. Some dads may ban “traditional” babyish bubbles and collars, and insist on primary colors in little man styles. But you’ll be buying cozy bath products that will be used in the home, and you have a lot more flexibility!

Back to the contents of our tub. Add the ever practical syringe and nail clippers kit. And a temperature gauge, which comes as a floaty toy like a rubber ducky or sailboat. Mom will put it in the bathwater to make sure it’s not too hot for baby’s more sensitive skin. You can usually find a matching rubber faucet cover, for later when baby graduates to the real tub. Bath products made just for baby are a nice touch, and ranges from Aveeno to Mustela to Organic Baby. To me, nothing in the world smells better than Mustela, but unscrew the tops and take your own sniff test! Diaper rash creme and/or wipes are all useful and will help fill out your tub: look for baby-specific labels like Butt Paste, Desitin, Gold Bond, Johnson & Johnson or any of the million other options. Note: Some say to avoid talc/powders, especially for girls, as it’s hard to clean it all out from the delicate and chubby folds of skin, and unnecessary with today’s super-efficient diapers, but do your own research. A brush/comb set is nice, and you can select from a myriad of pricepoints and designs to suit you, from melamine to silverplate heirloom.

Digital baby thermometers are pricey. Go for it if your budget allows, but don’t feel obligated. At around $100, someone else will spring for it as the main gift! You’re going for basics here.

Fun factors in with bath toys. The options are endless from floaty animals, boats and pirate ships to foam letters and shapes, books, and waterproof plush.

All of these are suggestions. Use your imagination and what you know about your girlfriend’s style! Work in the nursery theme or colors in the wrapping (see below) or a few key items - or go with something that will go with mom and dad’s style be it mod, traditional, punk. If you’re at all artistic, grab some paint pens (non-toxic!) and a plain bottle or sippy cup and personalize with polka dots, the baby’s monogram (if you know it), designs, nicknames, funny inscriptions, Pucci designs, whatever strikes you. If you’re into self-promotion a nice “Auntie Joan loves me” surrounded by hearts should do the trick. These handcrafted goodies can go in the tub with the rest, or tied to the outside with the final bow for an extra flourish.

Once you’ve gathered all the goodies, it’s time to assemble. Channel your inner Martha and make everything look beautiful. Roll, stack or fan the washcloths and towls, whatever you think looks best. Bigger items can go in the center or the back. Fiddle with the items and see what works. If you splurged on a fancy item or want to highlight some super-cute find, make it prominent. Use colored tissue paper to prop items up at different levels and make the tub look full. Or you can plump up with any plain white washcloths or even throw in a pack of diapers. It doesn’t matter what size, really, Mom will use them eventually! A sidenote: stay away from pacifiers and bottles, except your crafty masterpiece should you attempt one. Babies and moms are really particular about what kind of brand and nipple shape they want to use, and unless you know for sure (from the registry or somewhere else) steer clear.

Now for the icing. You can find swathes of inexpensive tulle (the frothy fabric used to make ballerina tutus) in pastels and brights at fabric stores like Louise’s, or even your local WalMart if they have a sewing/fabric section. Get 6 or 7 yards, or more depending on how big your tub is. Lay out a few layers on a flat surface (as if it were wrapping paper) and put the tub in the center. Gather up the fabric at the top and adjust it until you like the way it looks. Tie it all together with another generous piece of tulle in the same or contrasting color and make a giant floppy bow. Or you can use conventional ribbon/s, twine, raffia, whatever you like. If you can’t find tulle, cellophane can be found in any craft store (Michael’s and the like), stationary store, discount department place - and it works just as well! Top with contrasting color cello or any of the other ribbon options. At this point, you really need nothing more, but as said before you can tie on a plush lion (for a safari theme) or your personalized bottle.

What you have now is a gorgeous, impressive and inherently practical gift that will sit prominently amongst all of the other boxes and giftbags! I wish I had a picture but unfortunately even though I put together over a dozen of these (buying contents in bulk!) during the height of my girlfriends’ Baby Shower Wave, I never took a snap. Trust me - it is luscious.

And that’s Step 1: The Stunning Gift. Actual baby shower survival tips to come later…

Bridget Jones famously popularized Singletons, that neurotic tribe of women obsessed with sex (or lack thereof), the scale, career and a glass of chardonay at the end of a V.G. (or not) day. Bound by their exclusion from the world of Smug Marrieds, their hearts’ desire is for Mr. Darcy to sweep them across that threshold. I’ve wish Helen Fielding would write a sequel in which Bridget observes Smug Marrieds turn into Disaster Divorcees with the same wit. If wishes were horses. . .

Well, I’m now looking for a cute moniker to describe those of us who are surrounded by Oblivious Mommies and Daddies. These are our dear dear friends who don’t even realize that their interests and conversation have morphed into stocking the diaper bag, navigating PTA politics, and retelling playground prattle. Not that there’s anything WRONG with that - in fact, I find it hilarious on most days!

However, walk into any bookstore and head over to the Baby/Family section (just look for the pastel pink and blue spines). Tons of authors devoted to helping Mom (and very rarely, Dad) make the transition into mommyhood. I think it is a testament to the myopia of the parenting behemoth that there’s virtually no thought about what this transition does to the rest of us left in its wake. Uncle Sara wants to do something about it. I’m going to devote some time here to helping the rest of us navigate the transition to Auntie (or Uncle!) and help understand how to live in that new world our friends have made for them - and us. Stay tuned.

A postscript thought on semantics. Come to think of it, the language that we commonly use says a lot about the way our culture weighs women’s status. Consider the boxes on virtually every application form. Married or UNmarried. How many children? vs. No children. Just check one. The married or mommy as the positive, the unmarried is the negative. Hmmm…

The last time I played with chalk I was drawing a lopsided hopscotch board in the driveway, intending to teach little A. the old schoolyard game. Muscle memory must have kicked in because it turned out the perfect size for a 9 year old girl’s saddle shoe, and not nearly sufficient for a clod-hopping women’s size 9 sandal. Needless to say, A. was unimpressed. He was more interested in pegging my bahookie with a nerf ball anyway…

Before today I really had no idea that chalk was such an expressive medium, and undertaken by serious artists who have income streams outside an upturned hat. Then today, I zipped out to Pasadena for their 2007 Chalk Festival which apparently is the largest of its kind in the country. I don’t think it was just the blistering heat that had me in a daze. With what seemed like thousands of other gapers smooshed into the courtyard, we stepped cautiously around all the transient masterpieces trying not to step into the “canvas”. We all dipped and dodged, taking in vibrant colors and glimpsing designs scattered every which way from every which perspective.

As for subject, there was a definite turnout from the fantasy and comic/cartoon fans, and quite a few pinups represented. Artists drew inspiration from Jack Sparrow running down a beach, a candidate for “Funniest”), Mexican history, aliens, Shrek babies, landscapes, snapshots of cherubic children clutching sheep or flowers, Abe Lincoln, even a vintage champagne ad. Aside from a handful of heartfelt dedicatio signs, I do not recall many “father” themed pieces, so I was surprised to learn later from the website that this warranted its own award category.

Many artists - working alone or in teams - were still tweaking their art in early afternoon on the second day. One guy working on a Blue Boy replica said that he deliberately uses the full two days, because the black chalk can blow away and taint the other details. The intricacy of these sidewalk pieces is unbelievable! Can’t wait to check back on the website and see the winners! Here’s the link: http://www.pasadenachalkfestival.com

Check for results and other fascinating Cardone-a-rific tidbits like blue is the most used color, orange among the least.

These are from my personal tribute to Easter - but still just as cute now as then. Despite the fact that I don’t celebrate the day as a religious holiday, I am a sucker for the pagan Rites of Spring imagery: baby chickies and bunnies, all the delicious pastel pinks and yellows, and greens, and intricately molded and decorated sweets. As close to girlie girl as I get!

As for the cupcakes, duty requires that I nod to Martha (who else?!) for the original concept. Mine were low-fat cake, with full-fat absolutely scrumptious butter cream frosting (my own recipe).

And apparently, toasted coconut is an acquired taste, meaning the under-10 set felt the need to scrape it all off. Lesson learned. All frosting should be sickeningly sweet, brightly colored and any “enhancements” should involve fake sprinkles with tons of hydrogenated crap!

This weekend I convinced my overworked and overtired BF to take a little drive to the Inland Empire. Way out, after navigating several highway numbers I’ve never even heard of before, we found little Chino Airport, home of Planes of Fame Museum. There are at least 4 hangars full of decommissioned airplanes in various states of restoration from flyable to scrap metal. Most interesting were walls of display cases of model planes showing the evolution of aircraft, including experimental planes of all kinds. There’s a lot to see: the planes are crowded in, and there are also pieces of noses, tails and engines displayed. Highlights included Nazi and Japanese warplanes from WWII, including a mocked plane crash complete with jungle backdrop. Sitting outside is a jet that had clearly been hit (a passing visitor mentioned it had been downed by a Sidewinder though I don’t know if that is true) with twisted tortured tail and visible holes. Off to the side was scrap vehicle heaven: planes in disrepair, ambulances, cargo trucks, jeeps, even a Sherman tank. A volunteer mechanic pointedly explained his restoration work on an old truck as slowgoing because “as the sign says” it’s a plane museum, not a vehicle museum. Inside, a former B-17 pilot had his memorabilia laid out, a photo album including shots of his Flight Training, his crew of the “Bad Penny” goofing around, and shots from the air presumably during some of his 35 missions flown out of England, mostly to Germany. Roy was signing autographed photos of the “Bad Penny” crew and recounting his stories. Our veterans are a national treasure - I love that they continue to come out and talk to us youngsters to keep the past alive.

Onward and out to Glen Ivy Hot Springs Day Spa. I knew the BF was reticent because I have heard him profess too too many times that he isn’t good at relaxing but I think he had a good time!

On the way, we stumbled onto this curious little destination: Tom’s Farm. Farmer Tom has his own farmer’s market, plus a burger joint, Senior [sic] Tom’s Mexican food, a furniture mart, a gourmet wine/cheese market that was cranking out pizzas, plus an olde tyme gazebo with live band playing covers of oldies. Meandering around the family area are attractions like mini John Deere tractor track for the kiddies, a carousel, a train that choo choos across the lot. Tons of Little Leaguers seemed to be having season-end parties. And as it turns out, this is a huge biker place! Definitely a little piece of kitschy Americana, reminiscent of places I used to stumble across in the South, but something I never expected to find in SoCal!

Links:

Truth: I did not hesitate for a moment to assume the mantle of Godmother when my dear friend asked. I already think of them all as family and have known and loved both boys since they were practically conceived.

But what does being a Godmother really mean? Looking for cultural icons or role models leaves you a little short. There’s the fairy godmother, popping up most famously perhaps in Cinderella to transform our princess-in-the-rough into belle of the ball. For a few hours at least. Not very good on the follow-through. And of course The Godfather. And there are a few dozen jokes you can twist out of the Cardone-Corleone matchup - trust me, I’ve heard them! At least Godparents are not uniformly evil like stepmothers, stepfathers and stepsisters. By the way, a Godmother is also a cocktail with Amaretto and vodka - yum. But I get the feeling introducing the GS to liquor is not high on the approved list of Godmother responsibilities!

According to tradition, the Godmother (or father) would become the guardian of the child in the event the parents died of the plague, or the Inquisition or some other malady. That’s why the traditional gift to a godchild was a silver spoon or cup: the idea being that if the parents died they could use the silver as a means of support. In practical terms I don’t know whether that would support a child, or just pay for your departure to a nunnery or an upgrade to 2 bowls of gruel at the orphanage. In modern days, the silver tradition carries on. The same meaning underlies that other classic godchild gift: the US Savings Bond. Would I take care of those boys if, God forbid, something should happen to my friends? Without a moment’s hesitation. But that’s not the point. Today of course, the role legal guardian is a separate and distinct honor.

So is it just about the religious support? The other traditional responsibility - which makes sense since you are named as part of the baptism or christening - is to guide the child and help save its soul from eternal damnation. Raised Catholic, I remember many a baptism where the parents affirmed that they reject Satan and all his works. But what would that mean for me, a non-practicing anything, lapsed Catholic being asked to stand up for the GS in a Presbyterian church?

As it turns out, my role in the actual ceremony turned out to be nothing more than witness, formally. I stood up there at the font with the whole family — in this church, it’s really a stage and not an altar — and watched as the squirmy guy in the silk suit had his forehead doused with water. I didn’t actually agree to DO anything. But then again…I did. As Godmother I know I have a special responsibility. But what? How is that different from being the Auntie Sara I already am?

First off, let’s make a distinction between the Aunt or Uncle by blood title and the Auntie or Uncle becomes an active and loving presence in a little one’s life. Being Auntie is the coolest job on earth. You get to teach them naughty, rebellious things that will annoy mom and dad and prepare them for surviving the playground. Great stuff like “The Song That Doesn’t End”. You serve as confidante in all matters and give solace and advice in a way that mom and dad cannot. With any luck, you can help keep them out of real horrible lifechoices when they inevitably hit their teens and rebel against mom and dad. You get to play and inspire - but avoid the harsh disciplining. You’re an adult who doesn’t have to be untouchable like a parent, and that is a fantastic honor to have. You get to buy them wildly age-inappropriate gifts, feed them tons of sugary-snacks on the sly, get the sugar-high good and running to hilarious heights - and then leave before the crash!

But Godmother? To me, it’s formally assuming a role as part of the family. It’s being assured invites to graduation, inclusion on the snapshot updates. I’ve made a promise to be there, and support him, and love him…and his brother. In this day and age, the families we create are sometimes closer than the ones we share a name with, and we tend to be closer in sharing values and lifestyles since we choose them. I happen to love my own wacky family like mad. But being Godmother - to me - is agreeing to be part of another one. Saying yes was the easiest thing in the world.

Remember: “you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose”. Unless you’re hanging out with your little nephews, in which case you can gain serious street cred by attempting it.

Lately I’ve been on a baking binge. A muffin baking binge to be precise. To date, I’ve tinkered with banana-nut, carrot-nut, carrot-nut-with-Meyers-rum-soaked-Thompson-raisins, strawberry-oatmeal, strawberry-lemon, peanut-butter-banana, PB&J, and blueberry-lemon. I say tinker because I’ve tried to play with the balance and make them low fat (classic substitution of applesauce for part of the fat), using whole-wheat flour, flaxseed meal, cutting back on the sugar. So, why the obsession with muffins? I couldn’t get anyone to sign up to be the guinea-pig taster of cookies, brownies or cake. Everyone is watching their intake. But a muffin? Made with healthy ingredients and some fruit and veg and fiber? Well - that’s as guiltfree as anything that will ever come out of my oven! And not to toot my horn but they are dee-lish! No pics…I wasn’t that coordinated.