Road Songs

There we were. It was 5:24pm on Thursday when we ended up in LA rush hour traffic with Connor screaming with all of his five-month-old might and the planes-trains-automobiles weary Dan and I trying to bargain with the gods. “Please just let him fall asleep,” I prayed, “I’ll never touch a drop of red wine again.” Of course that still leaves white wine, and so the gods were unwilling. Connor screamed on. So I did something I swore on several different counts for several different reasons that I’d never do: I unbuckled my seatbelt (please Officer W, don’t lecture, I know I shouldn’t have), climbed into the back seat and sat there the rest of the way, soothing my son. Dan and I said we’d never sit me in the back on a trip. It was over-indulgent to the baby and demeaning to women everywhere -- like walking twelve paces behind the husband and male children. Yet, travel weary people are willing to cut deals, and Dan and I ate crow on this one along with our In-and-Out burgers. It wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last.

I am learning how many crazy things parents do that make no sense to the uninitiated that eventually become casual faire to those new at the game. To be fair, this was one of only two or three 20-minute rough patches in an otherwise idyllic vacation. Connor flew well and dropped off to sleep regularly at his 9:30 bedtime, despite the time change. But to be sure, I rode in the back seat on the drive from Los Angeles to Palo Alto, a six hour drive. It was fun, in a way, playing with him, reading to him, feeding him bottles and goop from little containers. Connor has decided that he prefers food to milk (you can’t call it “solid food” as there’s nothing solid about baby food), so we tasted squash and sweet potatoes, pears and peaches, rice cereal and applesauce. In a moment of pure parental slapstick, he blew a raspberry while I was feeding him squash, splattering the pristine back seat of the rental car and me with orange muck. I found it in my clothes, my hair, in the pages of the book I’d been reading.

And my good friend from Palo Alto, the lovely Ms. M., said that I seem to be parenting effortlessly. Well, I was on vacation. You can laugh about sprayed squash on vacation. In my nasty little backbrain, I worry about how funny it will be at 7:59 when I’m scrambling out of the house to go teach on a Monday morning. Nonetheless, we were all on vacation together, driving and eating and singing. From LA to Sacramento, we visited relatives, stopped in on friends, saw my Grandmother hold Connor in Whittier, drank too much wine and stayed up too late in Palo Alto, watched the sun set and the city lights come up in San Francisco while we ate Fresh Salmon in Daly City, ate Sushi and got lost in ‘Frisco -- driving blind and grousing at each other at the interchange of the 1 and the 280 that we miss again and again, ate Black Forest ham with my aunt and uncle at their ranch in Herald, and partied down with 20 of our old friends and their children in a Sacramento Babypalooza, eating chicken and drinking Aviators and Sierra Nevada while watching the little ones scrabble around with sidewalk chalk and legos.

It was a lot of driving but it was fun – our first family roadtrip. Dan was surprised to find I’d made up a song for the baby:

“There once was a wee little laddy named Connor,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey . . .”

It’s a song I made up in the shower to keep him happy enough in his Fisher Price Aquarium bouncy chair so that I could at least rinse the shampoo out of my hair and get most of a leg shaved before he started to scream. Singing soothed him, and so I brought out what I could remember of the old Broadway tunes, some of my favorite Police songs, melodies and ditties from favorite moments throughout life. But this one was all Connor’s. He loves to hear the repetition of his name and know that I’m singing to and about him. The versus are fun, too, with a piratical sea chanty turn about them, with our fictitious hero traveling the world to taste the food, wine, women and song of the seven seas, or at least old towns Dan and I have visited or lived in:

“One day he sailed off to the Isle of Manhattan,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He said, ‘give me a coat now that’s cut in the fashion’"

The kid loves it.

And I’m starting to think, not of those things I swore as a young (and not so young) married chick with time to paint her nails, read the PMLA cover to cover, and sit on the porch without interruption, that I’d never do. But about those I didn’t think I’d get to do. Making up songs with the baby is fun. I was worried that the pressures of writing critical articles, having something intelligent to say despite the mashed sweet potato on my shoulder, and keeping clean a house that gathers dust, houseguests, and dead bugs faster than I can blink, would suck a lot of the joy out of my life. Indeed, it probably will, but there’s always the naughty little song, the picture book or the gooey little kiss and wiggly monkey-baby hug to ease the trouble of the road.

Like all road trips, my summer off with Connor is about to come to an end. It’s time to get back to real life: go back to school, start with the syllabi and paper assignments, bring on the Nanny and iron the white shirts with stiff collars. But it’s been a nice summer, a new trip, another road. We got lost a couple of times, sure, but we had fun, ate some strange things on the road, sang some songs and slept in late. Someday Connor will take his road trips without his Momma, but til then, it’s been a nice ride.

Connor's Song:
"The Roving Sailor"
There Once was a wee little laddy named Connor
Ahoy, ahoy, oh matey
He swam and he sailed he was not a land lubber
Ahoy, ahoy, oh matey
He swam with the fishes, he sailed a small boat and he danced with the wind
Ahoy, ahoy, oh matey

On day when the sun was out shining brightly
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He took his small boat and he went to the islands,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He fried some plaintain and he ate some bananas and drank all the rum
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey

One day he sailed of to the small town of ‘Frisco,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He said “give me some chowder that’s not made with Crisco
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He stayed at the Fairmont and ate all the sushi and drank all the wine
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey

One day he went up to his Mum’s town Sacramento,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He said “give me a breakfast that’s got some tomato”
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He stayed at the Hyatt and ate all the chicken and drank all the beer
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey

One day he sailed off to the Isle of Manhattan,
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He said, “give me a coat now that’s cut in the fashion”
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He drank a martini, and ate a strip steak and danced at the Ritz
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey

(Dan’s verse)
He got on the F train and went down to Brooklyn
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
They asked “Are you buying,” he said “no, I’m just lookin.”
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He crossed the Gawanus, down Fifth Avenue and he found his Dad’s bar
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey

One day he sailed up to the small town of Macon
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
Said “give me some barbecue, chicken and bacon”
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey
He stayed at the Plaza and drank all the bourbon and stayed up til dawn
Ahoy, Ahoy, oh Matey