Marta as Pippi

For Halloween we had to assemble a costume quickly that would be favorable to our small yet very sensitive daughter. After some debate we decided against "princess" (thank god) and decided to go with Pippi Longstocking, known to Swedes as Pippi Laangstrump and to Estonians as Pippi Pikksukk.

There were some technical difficulties. For one the wig was a bit too short. Also we had to improvise with clothing. We decided to recycle Marta's pirate costume -- which Uncle Ian once said looks like a waitresses uniform from the restaurant chain TGI Fridays -- and rationalized its use by reminding ourselves that Pippi has in the past visited the South Seas and her father is allegedly a pirate. Then we added freckles and Marta's kitty boots. The results can be seen below.


What do you think?

Dog is thirsty, Dog wants juice

This photo was taken several weeks ago, but Marta's dog behavior has not abated. Instead it seems to be entering a continuing arc where Marta late at night will either pretend she's a cat or a dog.

Marta takes this very seriously. She demands things as a dog. She will yell at me "Dog is thirsty! Dog wants juice!" or "Dog is hungry! Bring Dog more pretzels!" all while lounging and watching BabyTV. I can be anywhere in the house when she yells these things. I could be upstairs making a phone call. I will sooner or later hear that Dog wants pretzels.

It's a bit spooky to have a child so into character and brings to mind spooky images from certain spooky 1970s horror films, specifically the one to your right.

But had the spirits of deceased pets entered into my daughter's body? Or is something more sinister at work? One day when I went to pick Marta up from school I saw that she and the other girls, Anna, Margaret, and Eva-Liisa, were all rolling around on the floor acting like dogs.

I began to wonder if Marta had passed on the dog act to them, or if one of them had given the dog mentality to Marta. No matter, they were all acting crazy, which I guess is comforting in its own way. But Marta is still acting like a dog. Maybe they've already passed through that phase.

Last night I told Dog that I was sad and I wanted my Marta back. I did this about three or four times until Dog decided to hug me and tell me that she was Marta again.

Daddy's Little Deadhead

We had to travel to Põlvamaa on Saturday evening to party down with some of Epp's hippie friends. Why are they hippies per se? Because if you replaced the cast of Scooby Doo with Taavi, Sirts, Kati, et al., it probably wouldn't look that different.

Before we embarked on our trip I decided to make a last minute mix tape for the car ride. First I put a few songs from Gilberto Gil at the front of the tape. These are exciting Brazilian pop songs from 1968 -- sort of like samba meets rock with full orchestra backing by Rogerio Duprat. But Anna did not like these.

So I searched for something more mellow, the most mellow thing I could find. I decided that Workingman's Dead by the Grateful Dead would be the optimal solution. And it was. Anna particularly liked "New Speedway Boogie". You should really open up the link to get a look at Anna's "people" there. I think the video is from about 1970. The comments section say its from the Festival Express tour in 1970.

Anna road the steady bluesy lines from Jerry Garcia's guitar almost all the way through the song, and looked displease when I had to turn off "Cumberland Blues" because Marta was whining for more girl dance music that she could "dance" to -- in reality jump around and shake her head back and forth.

Unknown to all but me, Marta is a huge Gal Costa fan. Gal Costa is a Brazilian singer who started out in the Tropicalia movement (see photo, right) but graduated to doing ballads and dance music by the late 1970s.

I only like the early stuff, but Marta I am sure would be willing to sit through all of Gal's catalog, including her most cheesy Brazilian disco tunes. You can see an early concert of Gal here.

Well, because Marta is a disco queen, we'll have to listen to Jerry with Anna in private next time around.

Musical Youth

So I want to turn this blog into something more than just recounting our lives for the folks back home. It's going to be about my thoughts and the kids and everything in between. My 'personal' blog, outside of politics and Europe and all that.

I have been trying to turn my children on to music. I do this when I have to work and am bored and the laptop is on. I go to YouTube, search for some of my favorite videos, and play them for Anna and Marta.

The only problem is that 20th century pop and rock music is really complicated and often too scary for little kids. I forget that their minds are so soft and malleable. So when I put on a video of Peter Tosh (above right) singing "Stepping Razor" in 1979, I forgot that to most people today, Peter Tosh looks absolutely crazy.

First of all, he's got dreadlocks. Then there's the big joint hanging out of his mouth. He's dancing crazy on stage backed by a whole band of dangerous looking dudes singing "I am like a stepping razor, better watch my side, I am dangerous, I'm dangerous."

So Tosh isn't family friendly. But who could be more family friendly and still enjoyable. You know? Perfect for the Disney channel on a Sunday morning? Bob Marley, Tosh's old band mate. So I put on "Kinky Reggae", and again it was just too complicated for their young minds to digest. I really think Anna was going to just pass out or something. Marley may have fathered 13 kids, but his music was still a bit too heavy for my daughties.

Finally, I decided that I needed something safe and normal. Something anybody would put on at a party. The kind of stuff I heard as a kid. And I grew up to be perfectly normal, right? (sound of crickets chirping). I decided to reach for The Rolling Stones singing "Harlem Shuffle" from 1985, definitely a song I heard when I was a kid, a song I was not afraid of.

Yet when Mick Jagger started singing "Move it to the right, yeah, yeah" I realized that I didn't want to let my offspring anywhere near Sir Mick and his gyrating hips, let alone his 80s mullet.
Am I just really conservative, or are Marley, Tosh, and Jagger just not children's entertainment material.

I'll tell you something interesting. Marta cannot watch Spongebob Squarepants. I love that show. It's filled with little hyperactive inside jokes. But she prefers Baby TV. It's just happy music and stories about lambs and butterflies and good, wholesome things of that nature. And definitely no Peter Tosh, and certainly no Sir Mick.

I am personally getting a little sick of Baby TV and Barbie. I am starting to really loathe Barbie. Marta keeps dressing up and coming up to me and saying, "Look, I am a beautiful princess." And I tell her she is always beautiful, that she doesn't need to dress up. But she doesn't get it. She's being brainwashed by idiotic Barbie.
Oh well. Better Barbie than Bratz. Right? Barbie is superficial but well-meaning. Bratz are just 'ho-models'.

I try to encourage better programming like Charlie and Lola or Fraggle Rock. But all else pales to Barbie. It's like crack for little girls. Shame on you Barbie. Shame. On. You.

Moved ...

I have decided to combine my Marta and Anna blogs at the following address:


http://martaplusanna.blogspot.com/

Sistahs

So I have decided that two individual blogs about our two daughters Marta and Anna have not been working. It's just too counterintuitive to divide up fatherhood by child.

I recently was asked for the purposes of an article some questions about our second child Anna who was born in July. What have I learned since her birth?

One answer was that I no longer fear that my heart is only big enough for one child. I know that this is not true. Anna has been in my heart since the moment she looked at me and her lower lip trembled with excitement.

The other answer was that I am happier. I am very happy to wake up every morning to the sounds of baby snorts and farts. I am very happy to have a little bald clown in front of me that wants to see me, that wants me to hold her, that wants me to be near to her.

Another question I get is how has Marta been handling Anna's coming. I would say that both of them like each other. Anna likes to watch Marta do things, even if it is just sitting on the couch, watching TV, and eating something way past her bedtime. Marta likes to see Anna and give her bone crunching hugs. She has never expressed any anger towards Anna. I hope it stays that way.

I recently read a book by Stephen King called Lisey's Story. It's a King novel and deals with some dark territory but it also deals with the relationships between five or so sisters from one family and how they all interact. King writes excellently from a woman's perspective. It's really amazing. I was comforted to know that he just isn't that talented and that his wife comes from one of these families where there are only girls.

Growing up I knew these families too. Sometimes there was only one boy who either grew up to be a womanizer or to be gay. The line was drawn in the sand. But often there were just girls. I speculated that the reason there was a fourth or fifth daughter was because somebody was attempting to create something with a bit more testosterone.

It seems amazing that biology is supposed to give you a 50-50 chance. But my Dad was one of four boys. However, his father came from a family of four boys and four girls, the first three of whom were males. So I guess the ratio is to be found in quantity. So if you are lucky enough to sire 100 children, its likely that around 50 of them will be boys. Take note of that, my Saudi Arabian readers.

But beyond pure biology and affinity for Barbie, sisters allegedly have psychic powers. They can read each other's minds. They are on the same cycle, if you will. I can read my brother's mind sometimes, but usually the only images that appear in my head are those of food or the Yankees game.

But do sisters really get that well along and read each other's minds? I'd say yes and no. Sisters also have a tendency to annoy one another (as is evidenced in King's book). They can also fall out over seemingly insignificant things -- the accidental use of certain words, failing to call at a certain time, making a certain face in response to a statement. One day they are best friends, the next day they are mortal enemies.

Oh well, better not read that much into it. Right now our little sisters are still little girls.