Sunday, September 17, 2006

easy like sunday morning

The last time J-Dog and I flew on an airplane I happened to notice him eating his meal. I saw my beautiful J-Dog hunched over a plastic tray of really bad food and as I watched him pick through it looking for something edible the futility of the world came crashing around me -we are all just trying to get through life and do the best we can, and we take what we are given and we try and make it work. And we are so precious in the process.

I felt the same on the playground today. The Bay Area is a weird mix of the super rich, super smart, super tech, and everyone else (whatever, yes, I am the latter). The playground today was filled with mostly the former, and I again felt a similar futility - highly intelligent men and women trying their damn best to engage with their children over sharing a sand toy for the two hundredth time, about leaving your SHOES ON, PLEASE, and tailgating their kids through slides so no one came to any major bodily harm. But what I noticed was their faces - the occasionally forlorn and far off looks, the sometimes forced joy and cheerfulness, and maybe even the desperate attempts to not stab themselves in the eyes out of boredom.

And this does not mean they don't love their children. We all do - in fact, we are mad for them. But we also remember those Sundays in the not too distant past where we slept in late, had delicious morning sex, and then walked to a sidewalk cafe with friends and drank bloody marys in the sun.


crazymumma said...

We all have times like this....

lildb said...

I miss that stuff so very much.

Artemis Rich said...

It's hard. I haven't really slept in since early in my pregnancy. The days of sleeping in late, the Sunday paper in bed...or even getting up early and driving out to Bolinas to surf a sunrise session, seem long gone. Now I wake up with a diapered butt in my face and little fingers tangled in my hair.

But that's pretty cool, too.

It's a strange dichotomy, the missing and yet not. Because if I had those things, I wouldn't have my daughter.

Though more sleep would be really nice too!

acumamakiki said...

I'm very happy to have found you when you found me. I like your take on parenting, it's refreshingly honest.

valiens said...

What's that old saying? The days are long but the years are short.

We have a 10 yo, a 6 yo, and a 3 mo. Nutty having another 10 yrs after the first, lemme tell you.

Having been through the baby years a couple of times, I have to say that the same way pregnancy is unimportant once you've had the baby, the lost sleep is unimportant once you've had some for a few months. And that time does come. So do dates, and brunch, and sex, but a little more secretly.

Then you start to freak about them getting older, and hitting puberty, and leaving. Boobies and periods. Mustaches. Leaving. With a huge chunk of your heart. Into the wild world.

Mary P. said...

My first marriage didn't have many lounging, lazy moments. We were too young and busy, and then too miserable.

My second marriage has never had lazy, lounging moments because we had kids before we met. Well, yes, it has, but as valiens says, more secretly. I'm looking forward when we don't have to be secretive!

Oh, and by the time your kids are teens? If you've done your job right, you'll be happy to see them leave. Not because you can't stand to have them around (though some days, that is the case!), but because you can take satisfaction in a job well done as they launch themselves into the wider world. They take a chunk of your heart with them, yes, but they take it on an exhilarating journey, and you are enriched thereby.

(In our blended family we have 8 kids: almost-21, 18, 17, 16, 15, 13, 13, and 11.)

Penny said...

omg.. you're too much!

I love it.

This had me sploosh coffee all over the desk.. the occasionally forlorn and far off looks, the sometimes forced joy and cheerfulness, and maybe even the desperate attempts to not stab themselves in the eyes out of boredom.