Feb
16
We had some friends over for dinner last night, a married couple expecting their first child this summer. I was a little nervous about the get-together, mostly because I didn’t want to horrify them with a bleak glimpse into their parental future. As it turned out, though, the children were fairly decently behaved and hopefully didn’t freak them out too much. Sure, there was that awkward moment where five seconds before they knocked on our door Riley burst out sobbing due to some mysterious malady with his ear and could not be consoled for several long, unbelievably loud minutes, and of course during dinner Dylan dramatically gagged on one of those tiny puffed-corn snacks that supposedly melts in babies’ mouths and had to be ferried at top speed to the kitchen sink for a corn-puff-ectomy and subsequent hurling, but other than that . . .
At one point our pregnant guest said something like, so, Linda, let me ask you honestly . . . would you say it’s hard to retain your normal adult life and interests now that you have kids? And I gave it some thought and provided the most accurate and respectful answer I could, which was to bend over and heartily slap my knee while barking with bitter, bitter laughter.
Okay, not really. I may have allowed a tiny HAR! to slip past my lips, but I promise, I regretted it immediately.
Here’s what I think: when you become a parent, life changes in more ways than you ever could have imagined. Yes, in all sorts of profound and meaningful and wonderful ways, but also in all sorts of incredibly annoying and inconvenient ways. Every single tiny little activity that you do on your own time, that you enjoy and take for granted, is going to change. You will not necessarily be able to continue to see movies, read books, eat food, sleep, exercise, or take a shit when you want to do so. Just leaving the house will become a strategic operation involving the sort of prep work that goes into Everest expeditions, and unless your hobbies already happen to revolve around diaper changes, naptimes, feedings, etc, they are probably going on the back burner. For, like, several years.
These are nontrivial issues to deal with. I mean, I can only speak personally and I know everyone’s experience is different, but, you know, I think it’s pretty goddamned hard to make that switch and start living your life based primarily around someone else’s needs. Especially when you feel like you’re trying to do just one little thing for yourself, not like a weeklong trip to Cabo or even a Saturday morning spent in bed with a good book, but something tiny — I JUST WANT TO FINISH THIS CUP OF COFFEE OH MY GOD — and you can’t.
So everything changes. And for a while it seems like everything narrows, too — everything draws in for those early weeks of newbornhood, where it’s all magical and sort of awful at the same time and time become elastic and weird. But then I suppose what happens is that it all expands again, and becomes bigger than it ever was before. Life spreads out to encompass everything you want it to . . . you just have to work a lot harder at it. You have to give up doing things when you want, and start doing things when you have time to do them, and if you’re very lucky there isn’t too big of a gap between points A and B.
My adult life has changed in every way possible, but I’m still here. It’s still me. My normal adult life doesn’t necessarily encompass everything it used to, but all the important elements are still thriving, and if certain areas have receded for the time being, others have exploded like Roman candles.
I still don’t know what my actual answer is. Especially without resorting to the cliches about how it’s all worth it, because of course is it, but that wasn’t the question, was it?
Feb
14
TRAVEL UPDATE: my plane did not crash, I did not have to gnaw on my fellow passengers, and I had a fantastic time in DC. It was an amazing experience to walk the Mall and see the some of the sights firsthand, especially the Vietnam Memorial.
Also, my god, will you look at those blue skies? I left Seattle and it was snowing, I arrived in DC and it was like 70 degrees. Crazy.
The Boca Spa Night was super fun and I got to meet a bunch of really wonderful people and I don’t even think I gleeked on anyone or accidentally used the term “Dirty Sanchez” too much. (Aim low, that’s MY motto.) All in all, a great trip.
In my absence Dylan did not, sadly, manage to start sleeping through the night, but he did learn how to hold his bottle. He could sort of messily do it before but now he’s a milk-swigging pro — you just hand him the bottle and he takes care of the rest. I remember when we hit that stage with Riley and it was like, WHOO HOO! Best milestone ever! Plus, we’re officially off the break-the-bank, smelly-ass, pain-in-the-butt-to-mix formula and giving Dylan regular whole milk now, so clearly these are good times for lazy parents like myself.
Also, Dylan’s walking skills greatly improved from “Drunken Crippled Hobo” to “Drunken Yet Mostly Conscious Fraternity Student”. He can now stagger several feet at a time, mouth agape at the HOLY SHITTEDNESS of it all:
Speaking of momentous first steps, JB gave notice at Microsoft yesterday. He’s now working full time at a company he helped found with three other partners, developing a hardware product targeted towards healthcare facilities. They’ve been successful in gaining financing and their product has real potential, and while it’s a scary time to unhinge the golden handcuffs of the Borg, I couldn’t be more proud of him for pursuing his dream. Risk is a hard thing to manage, and he’s gone about this in the smartest way possible; I know he’ll be successful no matter what. On this Valentine’s Day, let it be known I love JB so very much for the amazing husband, father, and man he is. Congratulations, babe.
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