Days of Wine and Roses

Today Simon and Wombat went to visit an octogenarian named Tito, whom they met by accident after taking a wrong turn onto his dead-end street in the Berkeley hills last Tuesday. Simon was exploring an unfamiliar area and ended up making a three-point turn in Tito's driveway, and before you knew it the two got to talking--about Tito's recently deceased wife, about his immigration from Spain, about the good a daily glass of red wine will do a person--and twenty minutes later he'd invited Simon to drop by any time for a chat and a drink. If Tito had extended that invitation out of mere politeness, this'll sure teach him a lesson.

Simon's solo outings with Wombat continue to impress me. Whereas I stay home with the baby--coaching his sitting and cheerleading his rolling--Simon takes him to the record store and the jewelry store and the cafe and Tito's house. It's all good--I'm teaching him "skills" while Simon's teaching him "life"--but I can't help look at their relationship now and see how it's going to grow into something far more awesome than that which grows out of day after day of learning skills like Making Oatmeal*, Fretting Over Housework, and Staying Quiet in Your Crib While Mama Showers. All useful things to know, of course, but not exactly enriching in the way that composing a song is.**

I'm not sure where I wanted to go with this--lord knows I'm not going to shed my hermit shell anytime soon--but it seemed like a detail worth documenting, especially since Wombat won't remember these early days. Also, I guess that putting this out there is a way of appreciating what we have. I feel like I'm always handwringing about finances, wishing at least one of us was earning a full-time salary, even though I know we'd be worse off even with extra money coming in. Yes, working part-time means we have to clip coupons and utilize defibrillator paddles whenever the electricity bill arrives, but it also means we don't have to give our kid over to daycare (no judgment on those who do; I just know it'd call for daily defibrillation in my case). Basically, we're working less (and earning less) but parenting more. How do you put a price on that?

These photos by Sean Slinsky

*Thank you, Heather, for your comment on this post. I totally forgot that oatmeal increases supply, which explains A LOT. Like, a dozen ounces out of one boob all at once A LOT. Yeesh.)

**Simon wrote me a pretty freakin' brilliant song yesterday while I was at work and he was watching the kid. I think we all know which one of us wins the Mother of the Year Award...

wrote Leah at 6:36 AM | Comments (9)