1. the turns our lives have taken
My last post was so melancholy. I mean, that was the space I was in, but sometimes I think I only know how to write in Sad Voice anymore, even when I’m happy. I’m like the most emo 39-year-old you’ll ever meet.
But I’m healthy—those quarterly appointments are a new lease on life, no matter how much I try not to let my world revolve around them. And I just got back from vacation.* So it seems like a good time to try my hand at writing about a good time.
|That's Amy on the left. This is 2008, which in my mind was two years ago.|
Amy met a new love and moved to Atlanta. Carrie had a then-three-year-old son, and when Amy left, she said, “It’s like we were both members of the Childless Woman Club, and now I’m not, but I hope you’ll keep my picture on the wall of the clubhouse.” She meant it kindly, but I hated her for a minute.
It was tough being a stepmom, although Amy was and is resilient. The pangs of not having a baby to raise from scratch resurfaced. We commiserated.
And then one day Amy sent me an email with the subject line: The dreaded email: I’m pregnant. I was grateful to her for tearing the band-aid off, even though I cried when we talked on the phone and yelled something classy like “You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid you’re going to die before becoming a mom!”
But life is weird and unpredictable, and AK and I became moms three months before Amy’s twins were born. Meeting her kids—and re-meeting each other a year into our parenting journey—felt like a thing coming full circle.
2. baby reality show
When we all arrived at the house, a little two-bedroom blocks from the beach in Morro Bay, one thing became clear: Dash is tall. We’d all seen lots of pictures of each other’s kids, but Facebook doesn’t really convey personality or proportion. Dash was slender and teetery, a new walker at 15 months, what with his high center of gravity. Callan and Bennett were busy little munchkins, bustling about at 12 months.
But with four parents and three kids, life is the best kind of chaos. The parents in question were AK, me, Amy and Amy’s mom Lisa, because Carrie had just started a new job and couldn’t get time off.
|Callan and Dash, partners in crime.|
Dash grabbed Bennett’s clothes and she screamed bloody murder. Amy said, “Well, Bennett, now you’ve met a bigger kid who is actually mobile. What does it feel like?” Bennett, apparently, liked to take charge at daycare and at home. She smiled easily, showing her dimples, but she also yelled and cried when things weren’t going her way.
Callan was chill personified, with big brown eyes and a sort of professorial look that sometimes gave way to huge dimples of his own. He loved filling paper bags, eating seaweed and rolling smooth stones around in his mouth.
|Callan (right) indulges his inner freegan.|
|Chill and chilly.|
We picnicked on the beach below the bluffs with Holly, Joel and their son Wendell, who were in town visiting Joel’s parents. The babies shared sandy, slobbery bottles and I surrendered to the messy and sticky. They dipped their toes in the cold surf. Holly and Amy talked about cloth diapers.
Dash pouted when he saw AK cuddling Callan. It was the first time we’d seen him get jealous.
I kind of understood it. Seeing AK hold Callan sent a quick ripple of emotion through me too. They were so sweet together—I couldn’t help but wonder whether it might be nice to have a second baby. But another part of me wanted to step in and reclaim AK. For myself or for Dash? I wasn’t even sure. Freud probably would be.
3. the future as seductress
The Second Kid Question has pros and cons that march through my head more loudly than I’d like. I know for sure that I could be very happy (and probably a more prolific writer and less poor) with just Dash. “Just” Dash, ha. Dash is everything! I also know that I would love any younger sibling who might come along. Then I remind myself that we literally could not pay double our daycare bill right now, and the answer gets easier.
|Party of three.|
4. we met a goat at avila valley barn
The weekend took a small turn for the sucky when Amy got sick. She’s a doer by nature and kept apologizing for not helping, but AK, Lisa and I did alright with our one-to-one adult/child ratio. Moms always joke about wanting sister-wives—a thing that vaguely annoys me as a gay woman, as if living with another woman is all about harmony and everyone proactively doing the dishes. But I also totally get it. Cooking, cleaning and childcare are so much more fun when there are other adults around.
Damn you, twentieth century America, for isolating the nuclear family. Then again, I really wouldn’t want to live with my parents or AK’s, and I’m too antisocial for roommates and too disorganized for a commune, so it looks like I’m a product of contemporary American family life despite my critique of it.
We took the kids to the pier in Avila Beach, which was a bit of a bust. The sea lions were farther away than I’d remembered, and I got jelly-kneed every time one of the kids got within three feet of the wooden railing.
|This goat is all, I'm a private dancer, a dancer for lettuce.|
*I started this post on Tuesday. Now it’s Sunday. Aaaaaarrrrgh, time.