In the Jungle of Nool

Zetta’s post today has me reflecting on my weekend. Saturday morning I slept in with the S.O. and had the rest of the day, really, to myself. I got a massage in a neighborhood I rarely spend time in. Afterward I wandered around stopping into cute shops and dig through stacks at used bookstores (Best of Jane Kenyon, $6. Score). Then I went to an alfresco café, wrote while I ate and drank ice tea in the sun and struck up a conversation with two of my table-neighbors, both dining alone, and chatted there for a while. Then I went home and read and took a nap. Then I lugged a blanket and some stuff to the beach behind my house and I went swimming, read on the blanket, went swimming again, read on the blanket, etc. till I was tired of that. Then I went to a Great Gatsby-themed party and made some new friends and ogled everyone’s debonair threads and had something called a lemon-fizzy-ginger-something-or-other, then I went home.

Sunday, S’s sister and two nieces arrived for a visit. The girls are 5 and 7. I don’t normally get all kid-happy, but I adore these two. Regardless: they’re a shitload of work. Kids just are--this is no newsflash, to be sure. And eventually I want one, maaaaaybe two. But the nonstop of kid-rearing: holy shit. His sister, who has a good-dad of a husband at home, is still frazzled all the time, even though her kids are well behaved. I realize that if/when I have one, my wandering-around-book-stores and leisurely adult conversations over iced tea will go bye-bye.

More difficult to swallow is that that time will be taken over by constant running, managing, repeating requests, breaking up sibling squabbles, wiping up spilled things, feeding, schlepping, picking-up-after, etc. This is in exchange, of course, for the countless rewards of one of the most rewarding kinds of love. Granted, some frazzled parents would benefit from asking and accepting more help, though often the resources for help are complicated or nonexistent. I intend to hold off until the situation is right--until have the resources I need to have a kid and not go completly insane. As for S’s sister—after dinner I sent Sis and S straight out for drinks with strict orders to get her to relax. And I took the two little lady-bugs to my house for some slumber-party Dr. Seuss-filled girlfriend time. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the literary genius of Horton Hears a Who, or given little girls hugs before sleep. It was good. For a weekend.