So I’m driving the kid home from the babysitter today – I drive about 20 minutes to pick him up and another 45 or so from there to get home. He always sleeps on this 45 minute drive, both to and from, and it totally jacks up his very preciously guarded routine of naps, but short of tossing things at his little bald head (all I can see of him in the backseat) there isn’t much I can do, so I let him sleep. Today I pulled into the long gravel drive, tapped politely on the glass storm door, and grabbed him up in a hug while I got the daily poop report (Miss Kim is very careful to track his bowel movements and give me a good description. Sometimes she asks me for a report on what happened when he was home. BMs are big news.) He wiggled and squealed and smiled, as he does when he sees me come in, and then he cried and whined when I plugged him into his carseat, as he normally does. Instead of falling asleep, today he kept up the low grade whine all the way home. My carpool mate and I conversed over the background music of a very mournful ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-da-da-da-da-da-jhjhjhjhjhjh-pblgthbltgh wafting up at us from the back. I knew it would be one of those nights.
Jack doesn’t have a lot of "those" nights, so they usually mean something is wrong. Teeth, tum, bum, it’s usually one of the big three. Screaming or insistent fussing would merit investigation, but listless whining punctuated by manic laughter is probably a mood that only sleep can cure, so once he was fed and freshly diapered we all settled in for a night of Entertaining the Grouch. He pitched and wiggled and fussed and hollered, he arched his back with frustration at my inability to understand the angst of an 8 month old’s psyche, he groused and wrinkled his nose at me, buried his face in my chest, grabbed and wrenched and manhandled my boobs, which he has come to understand are his. Finally, a whole hour early, I stripped him down and plopped him in the bath. He became angel baby – nose wrinkle smiles, splashing enthusiastically, patiently following each swirl and curve and bubble in the soapy bath water, trying to catch the suds in his hands. I let him sit in there longer than usual.
Getting him into a diaper and pjs (ahem, 18 months is his current size, I have a mammoth baby) was, as my sister-in-law calls it, a contact sport. He rolled and clawed and flipped and kicked and I needed about 47 hands to keep all limbs contained and directed into their various sleeves. I hooked him under one arm football style and lobbed him into his crib, where he rocked and rolled and threw toys and pulled down his bumpers and just wreaked baby havoc. Somebody fed him some CRAZY for dinner, I guess. I shouted a couple of stories over the din, and then turned up the volume on a soothing music CD (put on his brand new Christmas boom box!) He fell asleep in about two minutes.
So now I sit with a Beamish Stout – one of Patrick’s birthday presents – and search through home listings in Chapel Hill, Johnson City, Abilene, Charleston. I flip through my email inbox, which has lots of offers of law school scholarships. I make lists of possible future careers, what I want in a house, in a life. I wonder if Jack will have a brother or a sister next, and whether we’ll welcome a new one as early as 2010. I am everywhere but right here right now, even though I had hoped to be better at living in the moment this year (one of my squidgy new years resolutions that did not make the official list.) But tonight right here right now is a grumpy whiny exhausting baby and difficult job and long days and short sleeps and tiny freaking house with no room to stretch my damn legs, and so I’m indulging in a little frothy dreaming. A fireplace. A master suite with sitting room, double vanities in the bath, garden tub with whirlpool jets. A sun room. Screened in porch. A room over the garage for the television/sewing room. A garage.
It’s neither bad nor good, this being on the brink of something new – but it is never easy to live this way, in this infernal anticipation, especially when I do not know what is coming, and it could come fast or slow. It could be a new state in six months, or the same old same old for two more years. It could be stay at home mom, or law school, or theatre management or teaching or a zillion other things.
At this point, I have lived here longer than I have lived anywhere in my whole life. And I love it.
Happiness is a healthy baby. Happiness is 2 good degrees, and maybe a third if I decide I want it, and options. Happiness is five minutes of quiet at the end of a long Monday. Happiness is here and now, which will be there and then in the blink of an eye. I will miss this, when I no longer have it. My life is potential energy about to turn kinetic – I merely have to choose the roller coaster track down which I want to direct it. This hanging weightless at the top, it makes my stomach churn, sends me pawing through the fridge for solace in a chocolate stomach ache.
My state of mind right now is a wriggling whining 8 month old, just on the brink of crawling but not quite able to get where he wants to go yet. Excited by the world in all its possibility, and frustrated by his limitations. Release will come, for both of us, and then we’ll be off and rolling.
this is so beautifully written. i wish i had had these words to put a description on what i was feeling a few years ago. i\’ve been in your position with a tiny baby in tow. i remember the anxiety and the dreams. hang on to the dreams – drop the anxiety. wherever you are in the world today is where you need to be. and the dreams that you have will carry you through. i truly feel as though 2009 holds some wonderful things for you and your new family.
"It\’s neither bad nor good, this being on the brink of something new – but it is never easy to live this way, in this infernal anticipation, especially when I do not know what is coming, and it could come fast or slow. It could be a new state in six months, or the same old same old for two more years." Oh, sister. I totally get you here as this is how I have been feeling for the past three years. In the second half of 2008, I came to realize that I needed to embrace the possibilities and excitement and that I needed to let go of the constant questioning, worrying, and anxiousness. It is hard and I am sure it is just that much more difficult with a little one around. But I am here for you if you want to talk about this because I am living this every single day. Amanda 🙂