Raptors
It’s been a long weekend. Andrew left at 4:30am Saturday morning to fly to Miami for the Super Bowl, so Lucia and I have been on our own for two days and, now, going on two nights. We’ve fared okay. Lucia is an amusing and generally pleasant companion, making me laugh with her newfound ability to make raptor-like screeches. She seems thrilled to have found her voice—and it’s a loud one. Tonight, though, as I talked to Molly on the phone, her cute screeches took on a sinister whining quality, and she began thrashing in her bouncey chair, and I could see that she was morphing into Fusskins before my eyes—a transformation as dramatic as the Incredible Hulk’s. So our evening was chaotic, as I stupidly tried to make myself a carmelized onion dip to soothe the unhappiness of being by myself (I got as far as carmelizing the onions and gave up), heat up and eat my dinner (I wound up eating lukewarm stew standing up, bouncing Lucia as I ate), and get her to sleep. Which she is now. For now.
Today was a day that left me bone-weary—and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. No crafty object, no piece of writing, no interesting photograph—let’s face it, not even a decent piece of toast. (A hungry Lucia cut short my required toast-toasting time this morning, leaving the bread not hot enough for spreading peanut butter, resulting in a mangled, clumpy, wholly unsatisfying breakfast.) Late this afternoon I drove her to a park in Roseville I’d never been to before, planning to kill an hour with a nice walk, but got freaked out because the park was deserted—everyone was, presumably, home watching the game. I walked for a while but finally left when I saw an older man riding a bike around and around the playground area. A mom quickly left with her two kids. I followed her out.
The most productive thing I did today was walk to Trader Joe’s to buy more peanut butter once we got back from the park. Then, loathe to go back home, I took Lucia to this weird discount store by Trader Joe’s, just for somewhere to go. I love a bargain as much as the next person, but this is the kind of place where you just know from the get-go that no treasures are hiding. As we walked the aisles, the disapproving look on Lucia’s face was priceless—“Mama, where are we?” she seemed to be saying. She was not amused. We left quickly.
Then Fusskins arrived with a rending of sleeper, our chaotic evening began, and it’s not even 9pm and I’m about to pass out. Nothing to show for this day but a peacefully (for now) sleeping baby, and a whole mess of laundry. Regardless, we made it through the weekend, thanks to a nice lunch out with Beth and Nate on Saturday and, somehow, a piling up of seconds and minutes and hours today.
There’s a lot to be said for suburbia—okay, there’s one thing to be said, and that’s SPACE—but I really missed a city today. Walking aimlessly through TJ’s, and then that crazy store, everywhere deserted while the world watched the football game, I really felt like the last human being on earth. Well, me and Lucia. The last two. How did this become my life? I found myself thinking as I walked home, Lucia gazing at me appraisingly. There’s so much more I want to show her—so much more we could be doing together than setting out with the sole purpose of buying peanut butter—and I kind of felt like making raptor-screeches myself, the gist of which is this: Please, please, get me out of California.
Today was a day that left me bone-weary—and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. No crafty object, no piece of writing, no interesting photograph—let’s face it, not even a decent piece of toast. (A hungry Lucia cut short my required toast-toasting time this morning, leaving the bread not hot enough for spreading peanut butter, resulting in a mangled, clumpy, wholly unsatisfying breakfast.) Late this afternoon I drove her to a park in Roseville I’d never been to before, planning to kill an hour with a nice walk, but got freaked out because the park was deserted—everyone was, presumably, home watching the game. I walked for a while but finally left when I saw an older man riding a bike around and around the playground area. A mom quickly left with her two kids. I followed her out.
The most productive thing I did today was walk to Trader Joe’s to buy more peanut butter once we got back from the park. Then, loathe to go back home, I took Lucia to this weird discount store by Trader Joe’s, just for somewhere to go. I love a bargain as much as the next person, but this is the kind of place where you just know from the get-go that no treasures are hiding. As we walked the aisles, the disapproving look on Lucia’s face was priceless—“Mama, where are we?” she seemed to be saying. She was not amused. We left quickly.
Then Fusskins arrived with a rending of sleeper, our chaotic evening began, and it’s not even 9pm and I’m about to pass out. Nothing to show for this day but a peacefully (for now) sleeping baby, and a whole mess of laundry. Regardless, we made it through the weekend, thanks to a nice lunch out with Beth and Nate on Saturday and, somehow, a piling up of seconds and minutes and hours today.
There’s a lot to be said for suburbia—okay, there’s one thing to be said, and that’s SPACE—but I really missed a city today. Walking aimlessly through TJ’s, and then that crazy store, everywhere deserted while the world watched the football game, I really felt like the last human being on earth. Well, me and Lucia. The last two. How did this become my life? I found myself thinking as I walked home, Lucia gazing at me appraisingly. There’s so much more I want to show her—so much more we could be doing together than setting out with the sole purpose of buying peanut butter—and I kind of felt like making raptor-screeches myself, the gist of which is this: Please, please, get me out of California.
Comments
congrats on it being super bowl monday:)
"Please, please get me out of California."
I couldn't have said it better myself. Oh, and Nate has thought of a penance of sorts for our favorite deserter. We'll keep you posted...