I've been savoring this post for a little while ... thinking about it, making notes, humming some familiar tunes. It's put a smile of my face a number of times and helped me to look at my little Lydia in a different light. A more musical light. An enlightening 80's light.
What if my Lydia had a soundtrack to her day?
Seeing as her vocabulary is still a bit limited (although she does share new words with us everyday) ... maybe she would enjoy having some famous folks sing what she's trying to communicate with her garbly-gook words and emphatic hand-waving. Maybe if she had Cyndi Lauper speak for her, there wouldn't be so much desperate crying and more smiley interactions with her Mommy. 'Cause maybe she really does "just want to have fu-un!"
Instead of yelling, "No! Down! No!" when she is frustrated by the fact Mommy wants her to have one measly bite of lunch, Tears for Fears could jump in with "Shout, shout, let it all out! These are the things I could do with out! Come on, I'm talking to you, come on!" That would make it so much more fun ... and cleaner, too.
Poor Liddy is the brunt of a lot of tattle-taling. On a regular basis, Ashley comes running to me with the latest update about what Lydia has touched, broken or eaten. Poor girl. I'm sure that she and Bobby Brown could sing a little duet about how, "Everybody's talking all this stuff about me now, Why don't they just let me live ... Make my own decisions, That's my prerogative." I can just see her strutting her stuff.
There are times, however, when I'm glad that Ashley has alerted me to Lydia's current location and potential trouble. Having extra eyes has saved us from serious destruction around the house. That little girl was nicknamed, "Godzilla" for a reason. But perhaps Peter Gabriel describes her better, "I'm your sledgehammer, Let there be no doubt about it." Nope ... I don't doubt her ability to clear a bookshelf in 1.2 seconds. And she can gouge out a chapstick faster that you can say, "Sledge, Sledge, Sledgehammer."
When Lydia is feeling like Ashley is bossing her around a bit too much, instead of slugging it out, I would love for the song "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" to fill the air instead. Wouldn't it be a treat to hear that in place of the of crying? Not everyone can be the boss ... even if we want to be.
But I have my own songs about that little girl ... songs that go on inside my head when I'm face to face with my little sweetie. On a regular basis (almost moment by moment), I'm joining Pure Energy in singing, "I want to know what you're thinking, There are somethings you can't hide, I want to know what you're thinking, Tell me what's on your mind." Really. Just tell me. With words.
Because sometimes words are helpful. I get plenty of non-verbal communication: pouty lips, scrunchy face, flailing arms, kicking legs, grabbing hands, even a little spitting at times. You know, "She's got the look." The look of someone who wants to say something, but doesn't know how yet. The look of someone who's desperate to communicate it's her turn for the iPad. The look of someone who just really needs a hug.
It's those moments when I can't figure out just what would put a smile on her face - because, "Ma ... po ... bobo," doesn't mean much to me - that I join The Fine Young Cannibals in singing, "She drives me crazy, Like no one else, She drives me crazy, And I can't help myself." Because even though I sometimes feel exasperated by her urgent, "Dee, Dee, Dee's," she is still super cute.
And I can't help but love her!