Cultural Enlightenment

What the hulla ballu flying monkey be-gummies descrepen mung cho HO!!!! UMPH!!!!That's about how I feel right now with my little two old daughter! (Before you read any further, you should understand that I love my daughter with all my heart and soul, and I have no intention of doing anything drastic. Just a note to the reader.)

My daughter, bless her sweet little heart, is an Aztec. Or a Mayan, or Buddist or one of those naturalist-earthy sorts. I can't quite figure it out, and it's about to drive me bazerik. I honestly wish I could post a video of my daughter for you to witness the absolute phenomenon for yourself, to let your own eyes behold what I endure night after night after night. (Or maybe in her mind it's moon after moon after moon.) Anyhow...I will try my best to paint a very real picture for the reader.

My daughter, (whom I love...footnote to reader), holds a nightime ritual of sorts. It begins with a begging of food, normally something that shouldn't be ingested right before bed, like chocolate or ice cream or skittles. After a LONG fight of "No, you can't have that before bed," she finally settles for something like bread, or cheese, or a cracker. Grasping her rations tightly, we normally gallop to the bed chambers. Here, she settles in to bed, and begins to nibble so delicatley, and slowly on her provisions provided. After the small feast, "The Dance "begins.
Although not exactly the same every night, "The Dance" proceeds in a somewhat similar manner moon after moon.

We begin with a fanning of the sheets. The sheets are tossed ever so gently up and down from the body, and then violently shaken. Sometimes, they are thrown over the head while the body flings around underneath. This is often times accompanied by chanting, which is barely audible nor understandable. An ancient tongue no doubt.

We then proceed to the war paint. This consists of lotion, chapstick and sometimes oils. (Yes, oils! My mother-in-law has so graciously given me many natural oils, which I really do enjoy and use.) The lotion must be applied to the legs and feet, and chapstick must be put on, and remain on. If sheets or pillow touch the lips, a reapplication is necessary.

Next comes the longest, (as well as my favorite) part of the ceremony; audience participation. My hands are placed somewhere, typically on her chest or head, and then she proceeds to continue chanting/singing while she makes salutations to the sky. (YOU LAUGH....BUT IT'S TRUE!!!) Take tonight for instance. My daughter put my arm across her chest and then uses her hands to sweep across my arm and then throw her hands up toward the ceiling. She then rolls her arms as they slowly come back down to my arm, and the process begins again. Weird???? ABSOLUTELY DRIVE YOU CRAZY!!!

The practice ends by her slowing her chants, and slowing her movements, but they are ever still present. She just slowly slows down until it's over. Again, tonight she had place my hands on her ears and then mumbled to sleep, as if my hands were headphones and she was singing along to her favorite album. I had to laugh, to keep from crying, as I tried to pull my hands ever so slowly away from her ears, and she would quickly "re-adjust" her headphones for better clarity. This took about seven minutes before the soundtrack ran out and she was snoozing.

I ask you, my fellow bloggins, WHAT IS THAT?????!!!! All I can figure out is that she is from some different culture.