Friday, July 10, 2009

R. I. P. POPEYE

Our little Grand who stays with us a lot will be two in a few days, and her Mama has been wanting to retire her pacifier from use. And for some time now, Our Girl has been calling it “Popeye.”

We’ve gone through quite a few in her two years---pink ones and Purdue ones and those emblazoned with the blue “COLTS” shoe; a Santa one and a diamond ring one, and even one with her own pair of Bubba Teeth showing---quite fitting, as her parents are sporting a set in one of their formal wedding photos.

As am I, sorry to say---I just lost all reason. I’d been working on the reception food for 200 for days, had had the kitchen co-opted by the tile crew the week before, THEN I painted the kitchen while all the appliances were out of it (more convenient?---what was I THINKING?). Plus we had houseguests for that week, and I was just plumb slap-dab wore out when I got into that dress and those pantyhose.

They made a lot of pictures beforehand, and I was just sagging, with all the supervising of the kitchen left to do. So, when they called me up for pictures, they stood one on each side of me, DS whipped a pair of the teeth out of his pocket and handed them to me, I popped them in, and for all eternity, we smiled into the lens. I can only plead the insanity of being plumb tuckered out and perhaps had just slap lost my mind.

(My Sis took pictures home with her, and passed them around to her friends as the Bride, the Groom, and their Mother).

Today as BabyGirl went down for her one o’clock nap, I could hear her talking to herself and it, and then a bit of consternation as she lost it. I have rescued countless Popeyes from beneath beds, carseats, and various furniture. I’ve rambled in purses and bags and stroller-seats and the floors of cars, touching who-knows-what detritus and crumbs for the sake of that Popeye (Passy) (Nonny) (Foi-foi). So I went up, retrieved it from beneath the bed, handed it over, and she sagged into sleep.

As she came downstairs from her nap, we set out the potty seat atop the toilet and she took her perch. A moment later, waving the Popeye was her undoing. PLOP! It went, right down the chute into the water. We looked big-eyed at each other, and bemoaned the tragedy. We got her dressed, looked mournfully at Popeye one last time, then I lured her out to watch “Ernie” for a moment while I donned a rubber glove and wadded Popeye to his final resting place into a paper towel, thence into the kitchen garbage.

We went back, peered down into the paper-filled water (anybody ever get a little one to sit there a minute without five handfuls of paper going into the bowl?), flushed, and lamented the passing of an old friend.

Smart salute (woebegone “bye-bye” and forlorn wave) as we flushed Popeye away, with the wavery soprano (me) notes of “Taps” in the background. (Actually, I sport a pretty formidable baritone---weird, huh?---but soprano seemed more apt. And wavery because it’s hard to hit the high notes in such a moment).


We did everything but fold a flag, but after many a farewell and a last wave, we came bravely out to rejoin “Ernie” for a little bit of comfort. She and her Ganner are out blowing bubbles now, and I suppose that’s apropos, as well, that symbol of lifting in flight and winking out from human view.

And so Popeye is gone forever. Seems fitting somehow---Burial at Sea.

8 comments:

  1. Oh, I loved this story! And, the Bubba Teeth, too! We have have those moments of temporary insanity...and forever wonder why? :)

    My Adam had a paci for several years, and as he was looking out the car window...it flew out of his mouth. We continued to drive...as he bemoaned the fate of that dear 'stopper'. But, it was gone...too bad...so sad!

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  2. I don't remember my pacifier but do remember Superman came and took my bottles, that was pretty sad. Don't think I got taps though....

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  3. Hah!!! Don't pretend YOU weren't the one who started me on the Pacifier-is-Perdition route. I fished under OUR double bed many a night for the darned thing, and you'd usually just roll over and get my warm spot under the covers while I was down on all fours fishing with the broom and a flashlight for the *&^%*$ thing!

    Thanks, Tonja---just setting my Little Sis straight on how things REALLY were. :)

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  4. Loved this! A great ending...burial at sea. LOL

    Hugs!
    Kat

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  5. Great story ..... but would love to see the Bubba Teeth photo...lol

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  6. Oh, Rachel, I loved this story. Avery never had a pacifier, but she has a crocheted purple blanket that is literally in threads now. I've been taking pictures of it every time she comes to see us, and it breaks my heart to see it getting smaller and smaller. I started writing a post about it a couple of months ago, but everytime I try to finish it, I get all teary-eyed and have to get away from it a while. Because you see, I, too, love that purple blanket and think of it as a symbol of Avery's baby- and toddler-hoods. She's four now and I just want her to hold on to her beloved purple blanket as long as she can ... just like I want to hold on to her sweet "babyhood" ... just a little while longer.

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  7. I loved this story and also the comments about fishing around for Nail's pacifier. I remember Rhonda always sneaking up and stealing Steve's because mama had taken hers away by the time Steve was born. You'd hear Steve wailing in his baby bed and know Rhonda had been there (ha).

    None of my grand babies have had a pacifier but baby Caleb sucks his little thumb all the time. He's just so precious with that baby thumb in his little mouth when he's tired or ready for bed. And sometimes when Ashlea is correcting him for some mishap, he puts that little thumb in the mouth. She says it's difficult not to smile.

    Love ocean deep
    Maggie

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  8. I loved this story. My baby twins are now 19 months old I am sooo ready to get rid of the "paci". We have bought literally 50 over the last year and a half, but baby boy is so stubborn, and has stamina for days. Each time I decide to make the disappear I end up giving it back just to keep my sanity. I will try cutting off the tips next.

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