Making your way as a mother is a little bit like that line from Pulp Fiction, where John Travolta is talking about life in France, and says “It’s the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it’s just – it’s just there it’s a little different.” Often, you do the same things you used to do, but it’s the little things that make it seems a lot different.
A couple of weeks ago, a bunch of friends got together to go to Blues Fest. With our children. I have to admit (sorry Sara) that on the el ride there, I was grumbling. I have never been a big fan of crowds, and crowds with a very short person who has inherited my sense of direction and Joe’s sense of adventure seemed especially torturous. Not to mention the PREPARATION! Do we have sunblock? Do we have extra diapers? Do we have snacks? Do we have a change of clothes? Do we have money for beer? (Incidentally, we actually had none of those things, except the diapers and money for beer. That’s the genius of meeting friends who also have kids — SOMEONE has a bag of grapes, has made snickerdoodles, and has diapers in your kid’s size). Once we got there, though, it was great. Of course, little Dash Dartley Kim did his thing — within the first 15 minutes, he had “made friends” with the family on the blanket next to ours, getting a piece of cheese (and one for Joe), as well as a ball to play with. This was, of course, before he ran headlong into the steady stream of people walking by along the path, with strollers or lawnchairs or looking straight up at a particularly interesting cloud. And before he made a beeline for every puddle he could see.
It did feel good to be out and about, doing the things we used to do, and feeling like one can still have a life, even when one has procreated. Although I do have to admit that when Darwin strayed a bit farther, and ended up in a circle of 20-somethings with their surreptitious red plastic cups of cheap beer and their cigarettes, I wanted to take each one of them by the shoulders and say “please, please enjoy yourself. Someday, you may be me.” I did say, as I was whisking Darwin away from one PTY with her smokes and her cup, “No, no, honey. This USED to be mommy. Then we had you. Now we’re over on the green tarp with the stroller.” So, back we went. When we all looked back at the young-uns, we realized that they had not brought a tarp, or a blanket, or extra snacks, or books, toy cars, or even a change of clothes. The only thing important enough to remember was a cooler and those red plastic cups. Somehow, the only person in our group who remembered to smuggle in alcohol to Blues Fest was grandmother to two of the toddlers (which gives me hope that someday your brain reverts to normal).
Then, Joe was superdad and took Darwin home to put him to bed, and I went out with a couple of the other moms for a drink or three. I felt very footloose and fancy free, and felt even better when I actually ran into someone at the bar that I knew. I know people! People who go out on a Saturday! And they acknowledge me! But again, it’s the little differences. Like the fact that I can barely keep my eyes open past 10pm, and can’t seem to make conversation that doesn’t involve bodily functions or “milestones.” Luckily, we had met up with some friends who are childless, and could keep us endlessly amused with their witty, very much awake stories while we just enjoyed being out past sunset.
After that weekend, I then had a much less interesting weekend this past weekend. I spent my Friday in front of the TV, and “I Love Lucy” was on. It was an episode right after they had Little Ricky, and the premise was that he wouldn’t go to sleep, and Lucy was tired, and the neighbors were complaining, and then finally when he went to sleep, Big Ricky came home from the Club and woke everyone up. I honestly had to turn it off because I couldn’t watch. Lucy looked so tired, Ricky gave so many “helpful” suggestions, and there was so much crying that it just hit a little close to home. So, I then spent my Friday evening watching the Square Pegs marathon. We really need to get cable again.
This weekend we’ll be attending a birthday party — for an adult — and leaving Darwin with the grandparents. It will be interesting to note the little differences once again, as we have a life, but one that’s through the Looking Glass.
