Tammy Etheridge on Johnnie Rose's favorite doll: Oprah

Tammy Etheridge, mom to twins Johnnie Rose and Miller Steven, 14 months, with rocker wife Melissa Etheridge, 46, occasionally writes about motherhood on her blog. In a recent entry, the 33-year-old actress discusses her daughter and the special moniker of her favorite doll, which tends to cause confusion.

Children get attached to things, like stuffed animals and blankets. I have no problem with that. As a therapist once said to me, "He’s not going to walk down the aisle with a pacifier in his mouth." So. I encourage loving stuffed animals.

Well. Johnnie Rose has a doll, knit of beautiful, soft yarns in rich, delicious colors. Her skirt is brightly striped, and her hands and feet and smile are pink. The rest of her yarn skin is the most intoxicating chocolate color. Creamy milk chocolate. She and Johnnie Rose are pretty good friends. If I try to tuck another doll in bed with Johnnie Rose at bedtime, she shakes her head no and tosses the doll out of the crib.

At first, I thought, "What would make a great name? An appropriate name?" for this new doll? I felt a little silly calling a brown-yarned doll "Ginnie Mae" or "Heather", right? so I thought I’d give her a socially conscious name, a name belonging to a person that might inspire Johnnie Rose to be a change-maker, help this world be a better place.

There was only one name that fit: Oprah. That’s right. Oprah. Oprah and Johnnie Rose are
closerthanthis. At first it felt strange and slightly schizophrenic, saying, "Johnnie Rose, do you want to hold Oprah? Do you want Oprah in the stroller with you? Do you want to share your pretzel with Oprah?" and Johnnie Rose would grab her tight, feed her a pretzel, or just mash her slobber into Oprah’s face.

Well, of course, the name stuck, and I didn’t think about how other people might hear us refer to Oprah now and again. The looks we get when Oprah goes shopping at Target with us and we’re all yakking about "Johnnie Rose and Oprah" this and "Johnnie Rose and Oprah" that…. oh, my. I’m constantly whispering "Oprah’s her doll" to the mystified and hopeful passersby in the aisles.

Click below to read about Miller and the way he’s ‘all-boy.’

Miller. Boy. My boy. A mom’s boy. Needs to be kissed and hugged, butthen let him go because he has things to do. The first to whimper at anoise, the first to bang his wiffle bat into the window. Boy.

I cangive the exact same toy to each of them, and their reactions to it aretotally different: Miller tries to pound it, make it change shape, seehow hard he has to push it certain ways before it breaks…he beatsthe crap out of it, and doesn’t think twice before dropping it/smashingit into the ground.

Johnnie Rose, on the other hand, she will take theitem, and hold it gently in her hand. Then she will look at me, as ifto ask, "What is this?" I explain it to her, and she tries to mimicwhat I say: "This is to pound in the pegs!" I’ll say. And she’ll gentlystart tapping at the colored pegs.

When it’s Miller’s turn, heimmediately starts hitting the floor, the kitchen seats, the family roomfurniture… but once he’s discovered all there is to discover aboutthe now-broken toy, he will run to me for love and affection. He can’tget enough kisses for his manliness and strength. He’s like a candystore that overflows with sweets and chocolate rivers — he is a boywhose joy and enthusiasm runs over me like a sugar waterfall. so sweetI can barely eat it all.

I watch my son and daughter, both natural, and sharing every toy in thehouse — both use the toy vacuum, both use the toddlers poundingmallet/pegs, both like to wear hats of any kind…

Source: Tammy’s blog

Thanks to CBB reader Lisa.

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