Cheeser Wobbin

I didn't grow up with Winnie The Pooh. Sure, I probably could have identified the character if shown a picture of him, but the movies and books weren't a part of my childhood lexicon. But boy-oh-boy was the Pooh family a large part of my children's lives, starting with Birdie. 

For her first or second birthday (maybe Christmas?) I went online and found super cheap VHS copies of both The Many Adventures of Pooh, and Pooh's Grand Adventure. The songs became our songs, and to this day many of the quotes are still heard in the Halls of Chaos.

You never can tell about bees!

I don't suppose you have a balloon about you?

Tut-tut! It looks like rain!

I think the bee's S-U-S-P-E-C-T something!

Heave Ho! Heave Ho! Heave, Heave, Heave, POP! Hooooooooooo!

The gentle theme song was sung nightly as part of the bedtime routine, and I can still remember how the Bird mispronounced some of the names when she was very, VERY young.

Mee dah Pooh, Cheeser Wobbin, and Pliddit for Piglet, while both LaLa and Pearl both called the little pink guy "Piggit." They all called Tigger "Tidder."

Even Henry, who has eschewed all thing cute and "little kiddish" from the age of five, will still sit and chortle through nearly any Pooh movie. Mind you, not the insipid little TV programs that have been bastardized from the originals...but they will all watch the movies with a grin of expectation and joy on their faces. Springtime With Too, A Very Merry Pooh Year, The Tigger Movie, Piglet's BIG Movie, the Heffalump Movie... there is just something so gentle and funny about them. 

Enter the new live action film Christopher Robin.

Life has been moving on in the House of Chaos. Everyone has been growing and growing up at a prodigious pace. Birdie is 16 now, old enough to drive and date. LaLa is 14 and Pearl is 12... they are all three in the Young Women's program of our church. Only Henry is still in Primary... but even he will turn double digits at the end of this year. 

Honestly, I'm not terribly sentimental about their young childhoods... not often in any case.  It was in some ways a rough time for me.... going through having four babies within seven years as an older mother. Trying to get everything figured out and to be honest, I lost whole sections of myself in the process. I'm still not clear whether the parts I lost will ever be found and whether it's a good or bad thing.

But oh. That movie hit me in a spot I didn't know existed. 

So, this summer Birdie got her first real-and-for-actual "Jobby-job" at the nearby movie theater. It's been hard on her. The shifts are longer than anticipated, the place isn't big on actually training their employees, and it's a little overly "big corp" for my tastes, but it has been a growing experience. One of the perks of the job is that she can go see movies for free, and get one other person in for free as well. So far she's taken her siblings to see shows, but when Christopher Robin came out, we both knew that show was mine. 

A no-brainer, Mama and Birdie event!

No spoilers... But the film kept true to the original Pooh gentleness and managed to keep the sweetness while never stepping over the line into saccharine. But it was also a little heart-breaking and just a little dark in places. Growing up is one thing... but being a parent, a good parent who provides the important things for little humans, things like a home, and food, and boundaries, and regular bedtimes... that changes us all, doesn't it? Sometimes I kinda wonder, does it kind of dim us as humans? I don't know. I'm not really one to romanticize childhood much. My own was in no way terrible, but I for sure don't miss it. 

At all.

But, erm.... well, I may miss my own children's childhoods. Maybe a little. Perhaps I will miss it bitterly.

I sat in the darkened theater, courtesy of my employed oldest, and thought of how she had just gotten her drivers license the day before. Thinking about how I pushed her into it, that last bit. 

Pushed hard.

How she really didn't want to grow-up and drive herself places. I recalled the relief on her face when earlier, as we were leaving to see the movie I offhandedly said, "Oh, I'll drive us to the theater."

The growing up does have to happen. The driving pretty much does too. Eventually everyone really is potty trained and apparently, for the Mama, the ugly crying is gonna be happening right along with some of these events, once the reality hits. And holy crap, the weeping may continue off and on for days.

Hello, uglycry headache, what a pleasant surprise. How 'bout lunch?  And, help yourself, Pooh.