I mean... wait. Are we there yet?
Chaya's a bit starved for the clamor of kidosity. If we're anywhere with children she will follow them around like a lost puppy dog until they run away and she plaintively says "I don't want to be alone." My heart. My ears. Because then she starts wanting ot have a screaming contest. If it's just her and mommy (perish the thought), mommy is either a mountain to be scaled or a peskily moronic minion who CANNOT understand the very detailed (and muttered) instructions of her superior.
The first week leaned heavily on our family trip.
The second is leaning about as heavily on Gramma Pam and the grace of god. Also earplugs.
The middle break weekend was a blessing and a half: a birthday party for one of Chaya's preschool besties as thrown by her mom, one of Chaya's all time favorite teachers. Um, hells to the yes.
She actually went into a kiddie pool.Peer pressure is amazing!
By the end, we carted a sobbing Chaya home as she wailed with more lachrymosity than a million teeny tiny violins playing all at once in a dark abandoned cave. Subsequent conversation revealed she was sad because she wanted a present too (particularly, a doll) and when she realized she was not getting a gift, it all just fell apart. I also learned that on her birthday she will get a doll with stars on it. But she won't like it. So she will break it. And that will make her sad. I don't know, but sounds plausible.
We also escaped to a beer garden.
By Monday morning, I finally gave in and bought myself a bottle of bourbon during a second-shopping milk run. Let's just say, Chaya got a a bag of organic oreo knock-offs (but only one a day and not the CANDY she NEEEDS and that mommy HAS TO BUY for her, alas) and I got a big ass bottle of something fancy and grownup that I will probably own for the rest of my life given my slow consumption rate. My current means of indulging involves dabbing a drowsy drop on my lips. After some time savoring the sweet sting, I'll then slowly lick my lips and let the flavor roll around my mouth over the course of some minutes.A heady flicker of past indulgence coursing through my body, I'll then go back to my mounds of animal-shaped-junk-food and block-strewn floor acreage.
To keep herself occupied when mommy's pooped out, Chaya's discovered she has a twin sister, Zoey. Zooey and Chaya both mean life in Greek and Hebrew respectively, so that's kind of cool. I feel super bad about not even knowing she existed until this fourth of her life, but alas we do tend to favor one child or other. Blessedly, "Zoey" is the chillest, most inconspicuous magical twin. Zoey never causes trouble. Zoey doesn't need tickets to tag along on trips or rides. Zoey doesn't even need a carseat - she's got her own car and/or plane. She doesn't even really need much food from what I can tell. But when she does dine, it's plain water and all her veggies first. Mostly, Zoey just sort of materializes at various times and quietly supports Chaya's need for parallel play before dissipating back into the ether. Best of all worlds.
Chaya's newfound sisterhood makes a fair bit of sense. I think she's one of a rapidly dwindling cohort of only children. I guess kids are like cats: if you're gonna have one, you should have at least two, so they can entertain each other. Also, sometimes they poop in your shoes.
And no, Zoey's not getting replaced with a tangible sibling, so we're hoping she suffices until we're ready for that cat and/or pair of cats.
It's quite possible that after a few years at a "healthy weight," this has become a choice I could actually make. It's weird to even contemplate. And I'm gonna go with... I think we got it right on the first try.
I love my daughter to bits. Every shot I took in the belly. Every blood test and invasive ultrasound. Every bout of nausea and uncertainty. Every lost bit of freedom. Every physical misalignment and resulting weakness from that birth and early childhood. Every extra year of wear and tear added to my chronological age. Every ounce of beauty and vitality sloughed down a drain somewhere. All of it has been worth it.
Same time, I'm just starting to taste that sense of freedom and possibility of self and coupledom again; the crush of sleepless full body investment that comes with a newborn is a little vertiginous. Not to mention, Chaya's still here and her brilliant attention and presence already can crowd out a room before we add grown up relationships and self-time.
 |
| Just call us three and wheeee! |
I know I know, they all say you have a second or third and the love just keeps growing. You learn from your first. It's easier. You make do. It multiplies the... the... whatever... This is what the people say....
...Yeah and where are those people when you're saying "I think I'd like three husbands ultimately. That way when I'm out with one husband the other two can entertain each other." Are these people ever at weddings asking "are you one and done or do you think you'll want another?" Where are you then, my "love will multiply and life will expand" folks? Oh yeah. OkCupid.
I mean, sure it's different but is it that different? Love, attention, connection, affection,
responsibility, commitment... Rivalries and jealousies. The impact of one person on your treatment of another. I used to think I'd coined the phrase Second Child Syndrome, but of course it's a thing. It might all expand and make room to fit and enrich. Might. Might not. I dunno. I sometimes crowd myself out with my plethora of facets before we even get to others, but it's always possible.
Besides, I keep seeing all kinds of articles about how hard it is for adults to form lasting friendships and how lonely we all are. If only-children are kind of weird and demanding, maybe only-spouses are too? I dunno. I'm just speculating here. Maybe the best way to find that bestie I've been missing is to get myself a sister wife?
I'm not really saying with any conviction that we should all be bonobos pushing the conventional notions of committed monogamy to the far corners of the galaxy. Introvert, here. I haven't even actually read Sex at Dawn as much as know people who maybe have or at least read some articles riffing on it. If there's any remaining energy in my peoplemeter after soaking up our happy little threesome family, I'd rather use it on building up friendships that are slipping by the wayside in the child-crush.
But at this point if I had to chose between putting on a pretty - or at least pretty acceptable - dress after forty minutes of trying on my entire wardrobe in order to look pretty ok for a middling outing with an average guy and his menagerie of "interesting" baggage that I'm sure to discover mid-appetizer OR going through another 9 months of unpredictable bodily changes and another year or four of EVEN MORE bizarre changes on no sleep and a prayer... well I'm sure I can dust off that old OkCupid account.
We're a good number at three. Though man I love Zooey. Best kid I never actually remembered giving birth to.
And I still digress.
A lot.
Where were we?
Squirrel!!
Children.
 |
| I was wondering if this random friend was in fact Zooey But then she had parents so prolly not |
They're darling. And a good reason to dip your pilfered animal shaped junk-bombs in whiskey when naptime finally comes.
Also, little tip. If they're having a massive meltdown because they forgot to tell you they NEEEEED orange juice until after you've checked out at Costco and you figure you need a coffee anyways so why not stop at Starbucks, just know that they will be head-over-heels excited about the fancy-ess (child friendly fancy-ass) "Orange Juice" all the way until it's been sitting untouched in a shark cup for several hours and you finally just both order daddy to go ahead and have it while she sips from a cup of lemonade, a cup of apple juice and some seltzer water.
 |
| Remember when she was gonna just drink water or seltzer? Yeah. |
And, uh, preschool. I'm excited that it's opening again.
No comments:
Post a Comment