My Baby Didn't Get Eaten Today

No thanks to me! This post is for all the moms out there who feel like they're not Mom Enough or whatever Time magazine thinks will guilt-trip you into buying their latest issue. If your child has survived infancy without getting eaten, I salute you. I'm having a hard time with it this month.

Nux Gallica is almost 16 months old now, and she is growing ever more delectable each day. It's starting to frighten me. Let me explain.

It all started a couple weeks ago, when my local Barnes and Noble advertised a Fancy Nancy Tea Party for little girls and moms. I grabbed a flyer and wrote it down in my calendar, because I often take Nux out to brunch at Barnes and Noble anyway (it's close enough to walk on a pleasant morning), and I am constantly on the lookout for activities that will exhaust the child before naptime. Especially free ones.

A very wise mom-friend of mine gently warned me about the danger of bringing my child to such an event. It is well-known that the spirit of Cinderella haunts these corporate infantmercials and feeds upon the souls of young girls. And yet I couldn't resist the temptation of cookies, cute children, and adults willing to entertain my wild child for free.

So I dressed my baby up like a delicious cupcake and strolled her right into Cinderella's laser-whitened maw.

At first, Nux had a ball. She nibbled on a sugar cookie and oohed and aahed at all the little princesses and fairies arriving in their glitteriest, ruflliest, pinkest finery. She flounced her own gown and said "hi" to everyone and gently stroked the older girls' ribbons and bows. We sat on a bench for Fancy Nancy storytime. And through it all, the other children around us appeared sluggish, unresponsive, and glum beneath their shimmering tiaras. They reminded me of sad little clowns, or Paris Hilton's poor dogs.

OH NO, I thought. Cinderella has eaten these daughters already! Luckily, Nux caught on. After the first story and a half-dozen kicked-puppy pouts in exchange for her enthusiastic "hi" greetings, she turned to me and stated loudly, "All done!" I lifted her from the bench, and she flounced merrily to the choo choo train set on the other side of the children's area. FIRST CHILD CONSUMPTION THREAT AVERTED.

In the second incident, I ALMOST ATE MY OWN BABY. We had this lovely box of Godiva chocolates on the counter for Mother's Day, and my intrepid daughter pushed a chair up the counter, climbed up, opened the box, and took one out. I thought this was adorably clever for a child her age, but I didn't want her to shove a whole gooey and choke-hazardous caramel in her face, so I ran up to her and opened my mouth. She loves to feed people, so she put the chocolate in my mouth. In one of those terrible split-second decisions, I reasoned that she should at least get a taste of the chocolate as a reward for feeding Mama, so I started to bite off a piece. Almost at the exact moment the thought popped into my head, "I didn't think there was a nut in this chocolate!" my eyes met my daughter's in a mutual expression of horror. As you could have guessed, it wasn't a nut but a tender little Nux finger clenched between my teeth.

A complete maternal freakout ensued, with hugs and kisses and frantic apologies and a frozen lima bean compress. To be fair, I didn't bite hard enough to do any significant damage. There were just little tooth marks in her skin like she leaves on various parts of my body all the time (see how YOU like it, kid!), but I was absolutely traumatized. For the rest of the day, I couldn't eat anything without feeling a tiny little finger in my mouth and the words NOM NOM BABIES floating through my head. I fear that from now on, Godiva is going to taste like infanticide to me.

Later that day, the Daddy Man took our precious progeny on a bike ride to the zoo, where she had the time of her life meowing at tigers, knocking on a tortoise shell, and barking at donkeys. (Why not?) Daddy Man brought back to me a chilling photo of the snow leopard staring at my chubby, buttery little baby with ravenous murder in its eyes. He said that other children were making a ruckus on the other side of the enclosure trying to get the leopard's attention, but it was firmly locked onto my little Nux.

SHE IS SO DELICIOUS! And now I am completely paranoid. But my baby didn't get eaten today. Hooray!

So... has anyone else ever accidentally tried to eat their baby? Got any other entertaining stories of child endangerment to make me feel better?

Bonded by Michelle Davidson Argyle

Are you excited? I'm excited! This trio of fairy tale novellas will be released soon.

There are lots of fun fairy tale-themed novels out on bookstore shelves right now, but very few of them are of the literary sort. Most are YA or genre fantasy books, which are lovely, but literary fiction is closest to my heart.

Michelle Davidson Argyle is the mother of an energetic little princess, which makes me in awe of her, because I am too, and I am finding it nearly impossible just to write this blog post. Someday soon, my daughter will probably share my appreciation for literature (without pictures or fluffy bunnies to pat). For now, I have to sneak my grownup reading into naptimes.

And Michelle's books are about to find a place in that precious time slot! Hooray!

Coming Out as a Geek

I had an epiphany last night. During my religious pilgrimage to the Rammstein show, I realized something about myself. I need to come out of the closet as a geek.

When Mr. G and I arrived at the Palace of Auburn Hills, we were puzzled to find ourselves surrounded by more Dream Theater t-shirts, ill-fitting corsets, and Hot Topic accessories than we had ever seen in any one place, including comic book conventions and Ren Faires. (Yeah, we were 13 once, shut up.) "Scheise," we whispered to each other. "These people are NERDS!"

It should have occurred to us that an extremely theatrical act performed in a European language would attract theater kids and, you know, people who like to talk in European accents. Gamers, historical reenactors, RPG players.

And Mr. G and I were freaks among the geeks. While just about everyone in the entire arena wore black, we went for a "Mein Land" look riffing off of the latest single's retro beach themed video.

Lead singer Till Lindemann wrote the song "Mein Land" after getting harassed on a California beach for being a foreigner. Even before that incident, Rammstein had been reluctant to perform in the United States after some arrests in the '90s for the lewdness of their performance art. Mr. G and I were most appreciative that Rammstein not only came back but brought with them 25 18-wheelers full of explosives to set off on our fifth wedding anniversary weekend, so we thought we'd go all happy technicolor.

We were surprised that nobody else did this, although some bro dudes in the hotel elevator were dressed up in homage to the end portion of the "Mein Land" video, which involves Jokeresque evil clown makeup. That was pretty excellent. Did I just mention the bro dudes? Yes, there were also bro dudes at the show, and whole families with children, and grandma geeks with coral lipstick and grandpa geeks with septum piercings. And as we stood in line to buy t-shirts and rode the shuttle buses and climbed into our seats, we also found ourselves talking excitedly to all of these people about our shared obsession. Despite sticking out like beach balls on an oil spill, Mr. G and I came to understand that WE ARE THOSE PEOPLE. We are Rammstein geeks.

The Mary Sue defines geekdom thusly:

"The thing that all geeks have in common... is not what we are interested in, but how we go about consuming our interests. 'Consuming' is the perfect word for it, because geeks are rarely a passive audience. We devour our interests... It isn’t enough for us just to enjoy something. When something piques our interest or elicits an emotional response from us, we have to know why. We have to dissect it, put it under a microscope, and come to understand it on a molecular level. This mental process is the same, regardless of whether we are talking about breaking down narrative structure or sequencing a genome or designing a costume... The more details there are, the happier we become. This is why we love things like DVD commentaries... We are, perhaps, the most enthusiastic people on the planet."

DAS IST MEIN TEIL. For the past week, Mr. G and I have been watching Rammstein DVD commentaries every night after the baby goes to sleep. We are super enthusiastic about our favorite band.

From the moment the set began with "Sonne" and columns of fire blasted heat into our faces from full across the mosh pit, we were in ecstasy. The show was everything we dreamed it would be--a masterpiece of pyromaniacal opera buffa mixed with skull-crushing heavy metal, sprinkled with glitter, and topped with penis cannon foam spray. Till was as charming as Hannibal Lecter. Flake was frenetic. Richard was adorable and flirtatious. Ollie's torso was mesmerizing. Paul was goofy. Schneider was a cross-dressing, masochistic doll.

When Till said "We love you" in English at the end of the set, I melted like combat boot soles under a magnesium flare.

Because I am a geek.

And I'm okay with that. I'm not the same kind of geek, exactly, as the man in the utility kilt or the woman in the purple furry boots and fishnet arm warmers. But we all geek out for Rammstein. If The Mary Sue is right that being a geek means being fully engaged with an interest, devoted to details, and liking "something so much that a casual mention of it makes your whole being light up like a halogen lamp," then I'll wear the label with pride.

After all, if I ever wrote a book that got readers this geeked, I would consider that the greatest accomplishment possible as a writer.

What do YOU geek out about? Does it inspire you? How does it influence what you write or create? Come out and be proud!