Baby Spartan's Mom

Talk about living in the twilight zone…after a month of pristine snow-covered countryside and nights so quiet and so black you need a flashlight to make your way to the bathroom, here we are back in sunny California, where the street lights never fade, the neighbor bangs his frustration away on his piano keys at midnight, and the ocean eternally beckons (causing “Adult ADD-Momma” to forever procrastinate).

Ahhhhhhhhh, Home Sweet Home.

I took more time off than I imagined after reaching my deadline (no surprise there); which, btw, was a small piece I had written about my Dad’s life that was part of a larger documentary project in conjunction with the UCLA Extension Writers' Program called Old Friends Writing Club. The final event was March 13th and after I unloaded that 5,000 pound monstrosity off my back I crashed for a few days before we began our jaunt around LA -- me as Pied Piper leading the parental units from Ohio around La La Land. I love having visitors. Otherwise, I would never choose to go to Griffith Park, Hollywood Blvd, Ojai, the La Brea Tar Pits, Skirball Museum, etc etc…all in one week. Hosting visitors gives me an excuse to play ‘Annette la turista’.

One day, I convinced Baby-daddy to watch Lia and whisked my parents off to see a taping of Dr. Phil (not my first choice but Miss Procrastination waited until last minute to get tickets). After the show, we explored the heart of Hollywood just weeks after the Oscars. While standing in front of the Kodak Theatre marveling at the stars names embedded in the sidewalk under our feet, Superman (aka out-of-work, middle-aged actor with a bad toupee and a pot belly, wearing blue tights, a red cape and the look of desperation)…ahem… SUPERMAN correctly pegged my mom as a tourist. He seized the opportunity and enthusiastically explained how the red carpet blankets the street every year where the limos pull up bestowing sparkling celebrities upon us mere mortals for the Academy Awards. Right where we were standing. My mother was mesmerized.



My dad snapped this with his cell phone when he wasn't looking. Apparently, Superman does not have x-ray vision nor eyes in the back of his head. The poor guy kept checking over his shoulder for my approval. I was glaring at him like a panther, telepathically communicating to him…“Be careful dude. That’s my mom you got there. I’ll cut you if you so much as sneeze on her.”

I'm being too harsh ~ the man of steel was actually very sweet to my mom.

There is a certain odd charm about Hollywood Boulevard. It’s very cliché but true. Hollywood is like no other…it’s the place that teeters between heaven and hell, where one heart is broken and another’s wildest dreams come true.



I took this next photo of the sign from the Observatory at Griffith Park, which is why it’s angled. From Hollywood, it’s a straight shot but farther away.



And have you heard? Someone is trying to buy up the property to make a hotel out of the sign! Crazy people. Leave it be. We love our sign the way it is.

http://www.dailynews.com/news/ci_14871356

This line at the end of the article is pretty funny though:

But when tourists from other countries come to see the sign, they imagine a majestic structure. Instead, they see "plywood and white paint".

Hollywood Boulevard is like a caricature of itself in a sense. If you’ve ever been here, you know what I mean. Darth Vader, Superman, Michael Jackson and Marilyn Monroe all compete for tips on the Walk of Fame. Sadly, you can’t really tell what they look like until you get up close…the Marilyn I saw a few weeks ago looked more like Bette Davis in “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane,” than the beautiful young starlet she was impersonating.

On to more important babies…MINE.

Lia has learned how to climb up AND OVER the loveseat. In fact, after vowing to myself that I would sit down and finish this post and get on with my life TODAY, I ended up spending half an hour calming her down after she fell, and then another hour planning a new safety strategy with the Baby-daddy. We are going to strip down our furniture to the minimum. Our toddler now has full control of the living room. Soon she’ll be navigating her way through the entire house and it won't be long before she rolls her eyes at us when we tell her we love her as she walks out the door on her way to her first prom!

{sniff sniff}

But that’s 15 years down the road…I’ve gotten ahead of myself again.

Anyone want to buy a loveseat?

So much for the baby barricade. With our furniture and a baby play yard that looks like a giant dog pen, we were able to contain the little Spartan for the last few months…but no more. She’s standing on top of the coffee table now like a little warrior about to charge the valley below.



Gosh, so much since I last wrote…too much to catch up on today. Baby-daddy is waiting for me to move heavy furniture and purge all unnecessary tchochkes in order to create a safe haven for our little tornado.

At the end of this day we’ll all be sleeping like a baby…