Take me to the River

My husband makes great coffee and recently got an espresso maker. I thought nothing of this until after this morning’s cup, I found myself scrubbing in between shower tiles with a toothbrush. Coffee is a gentle wakeup; espresso is dangerous. Some religious faiths even forbid the use of coffee (although chocolate is considered kosher) and I in some ways understand. Our ancient, resurfaced-but-peeling, leprous-looking shower probably needs a bit of scrubbing, but everything in moderation. The toothbrush action seems just a bit OCD to me. I stopped, grabbed a load of laundry and ran downstairs before I could react to the dust on top of the commode or the potential for reorganizing my underwear drawer. I know this madness and it must be fled.

Tom Hanks’s character in Castaway says “We live and die by time,” my favorite Rasta character in Neuromancer says “Time be time, mon,” and one of the visiting CEO’s at the Stern School of Business “Business and its Publics” lecture said “Time is the currency of love.” I hold all of these simultaneously true. Time IS the currency of love and I want to spend more of it with Connor and Papa Zook, but it takes leaving that living and dying by time and recognizing it for what it is: like a river of water that you can’t use all at once, but might still think about managing now and then.

It has taken a decided act of unclenching, though. Of all of the seasons of “Friends” reruns I saw, my favorite line is when Ross turns to Monica (I don’t miss the obvious here) and merely says “Oh, unclench!” I laughed so hard, tea came out of my nose. Although born dreamy and distracted by nature, when I decided to go to graduate school, I focused on getting organized. I taught myself order, systems, files, lists and excel spreadsheets. I have had to admit, though, that this is like the compensating mechanism of someone with a disability: I try to order my world against chaos by making lists of lists so I don’t let details slip and go back to the slightly unfocused and irresponsible character I was as a teenager with great potential but too little application. I think its because I realize how precious time is that I must learn to let it go.

Dan and I have talked about this irrational fear we sometimes get that something will happen to Connor. Some random act of fate, stupidity or life’s grind can take a child from you so quickly. I have a new horror that, like in all action-adventure movies, now that I am deeply happy and delight in my life, I will lose the most precious thing in it. I think of Eric Clapton who lost his two-year-old to a fall and my stomach twists. I cannot imagine surviving such a loss and don’t know how people do it. When I think of such things, I hold that little body close to my heart and soak in the joy of his being, the boundless energy that makes him want to jump out of my hands, and the smell of him, lest tomorrow they will be gone. Time will take him from me one way or the other; even if he survives to old age, he will morph and change and unfortunately lose that wild sense of wonder that he has now in leaves, sunlight on the wooden floor and my favorite earrings. He’ll lose that effortless baby charm and become grown. I’ll lose my baby and get a curious little boy, who I will lose to the teenager that I will give up for the man. I wonder how his eyes will look at 27. One thing I’m damn sure of is that I’d better give it time and pay attention because it goes way too fast.

I get Connor back at 3pm today and will enjoy all the hours between then and his bedtime. Sure, come Monday, I’m back on the lists again, but the deal I’ve cut and the balance I’ve made is that the lists cover the holes in the dam that keeps my life deep and rich. Without them, there’d be no water-sports with the baby, no teeming fish-jokes and no productive spinning of the turbines that keep this whole show powered. Still you can have too much damming up of your energies, that leads to too much damning of those around you for not being the perfect addition to your tightly clenched world. And that’s just too OCD, that way madness lies, and is to be fled.

My Little Bundle of Joy

I remember when I started this blog wondering about the changes that parenthood would bring and how my Wanna-Be-Lara-Croft self would adjust to the identity shift. Let me tell you that I needn't have worried: Parents are so much more badass than the rest of us. If you don't believe me, go to an airport and watch the guardian of a toddler negotiate the constant motion, insatiable curiosity, hunger and changing diets, diapers and Jekyl or Hyde mood changes of their young charge. Let me say for the record that I loved my holiday travels and the quality time I spent with my baby boy has me just gooey in-love with him. But bringing a toddler on a plane is like bringing a live salmon to a tea party and hoping no-one notices. It takes a finesse that I'm only beginning to understand.

All that said, Connor did beautifully on the trip and charmed everyone he met from the flight attendants to the ladies behind us who waved and smiled at his energetic attempts to climb the seat. Denizens of a great dim sum place in San Francisco fetched his toys for him when he dropped them. My mother's boyfriend, a childless fellow of great taste and a collection of antique toys found himself snuggling a friendly Connor one morning while his heart melted and his glass coffee table gathered fingerprints. My mother's heart is pleased that he has all of his father's charm and just hopes that he uses his powers for good.

I was telling some 19-year old kid in the airport that Dan and I struck up a conversation with that the one thing people don't tell you about kids is how much fun they are. Connor has gone from a charming baby-smelling blob to a lean-legged little boy with an impish sense of humor and a penchant for stealing things. At some point he took off with Mom's boyfriend's glasses and ran (yes, ran) for the dining room. Okay, the kid only learned to walk a few weeks ago. We have also noticed that getting down on the floor with him lets you play with cool toys and growl and chase him to your heart's delight and his giggling glee. He has also decided that he's a foodie, eating dim sum, Thai noodles, Satay and Tandoori Nan with equal relish. I love watching him try new foods. He gets the strangest look on his face and then sets about eating with a great concentration. Watching him is like getting to taste everything for the first time. And it's really making me appreciate how good things are, how much joy I get from food, from a good game of "flap the sock," from the dimple in his cheek when he's about to be a cheeky little monkey, from watching him climb stairs like they were Lake Tahoe's 90-foot wall, with the same energy and confidence with which he tries to eat leaves. I loved watching him open presents for the first time, just taking in stride the funny noises coming from Howard the Farting Dog. That's quality time, my good people.

In fact, all of that quality time with my family (extended and nuclear) was just what the doctor ordered. I got quality time with my in-laws and a good long week with my Mom. Poor Dad got short shift this Christmas and I hope he'll forgive me, but the rest of the trip was just great. I did a little work, but only a little and spent most of my time just eating, drinking and talking with the ones I love. Which brings me to the only resolution that I'm making this year. Sure, I quit smoking (again), but backslide too frequently to really make that count. No, this year's mission, should I choose to accept it, is to just unclench and enjoy life more. Period. Anxiety about what is getting done or not getting done is a soul-killer and I don't want that death on my conscience for me, Dan or Connor (makes me shiver to think of it).

So that kid in the airport asked me if Dan and I had learned anything from Connor – if he was teaching us anything. I think every time you love someone they teach you something. Right now, Connor's teaching me a great deal about what charming is, about courage and fearlessness, about giggling and play and about how much joy comes from simple things. I wouldn't say I'm content – too much left in the world to do and see -- but I'm definitely delighted and learning to appreciate it.