Excuse me, kind people of the Internet, but perhaps you can help me figure something out: How in the hell is it
Wednesday Thursday Friday already?! For days I've been planning to report on last weekend's adventures, and already another weekend has begun. (My weekends begin as soon as Simon comes home from work on Friday, which, even on the good days, is never soon enough.)
Lest I waste this nap time on metajabber, let's begin.
Friday marked a major milestone for our family. I scored half-price tickets to a local production of Romeo and Juliet, and although it's not my favorite (there are Hamlet people and there are Lear people, who are wrong; which are you?), I thought this would be the perfect occasion on which to force ourselves to spend some time away from the baby as a couple. You may remember that we had free tickets to a play in San Francisco back in March but ended up giving them away to our neighbors because Wombat still wasn't bottle-competent. Well, he's now six months old (as of last Sunday; my god, how did it happen?), and although still not bottle-competent, he's at least on enough of a schedule that we chanced leaving him with our neighbors (the same ones we'd given the last set of tickets to) in hopes that he would be in bed at 9:30 on the dot as usual, even if he wailed and lamented and rent his onesie in the hours prior.
When we got back at about 11, they said everything had gone fine--he'd played, he'd eaten (kind of), he'd slept--and although they gave us a few details, it was a little hard not to have the slow-mo play-by-play I can usually wrest out of Simon. I now understand why some daycare providers keep detailed journals of baby's day for
obsessive caring parents: because we neeeeeed them. At the very least, it was nice to have some outside observers confirm the things we already knew about our boy ("He likes the playmat!" "Yes, we know!" "He likes to be swaddled!" "Yes, we know!" "He likes to be bounced to sleep on the yoga ball!" "Yes, we know!" "He's SO CUTE!" "Yes, we know!"), and at the very very least, we have officially left the baby with a sitting and everyone survived to live another day.
And you know, I can even say without whispering that I didn't miss the baby that much. It was weird for us to be able to get out of the car and just...go, without having to draw diagrams and calculate weight distribution so as to get from Point A to Point B with the baby and all his attendant gear in as few trips as possible. When Simon and I stopped to pick up our pre-Shakespeare burritos, we just...got out of the car and went. And when we got to the theater, we just...got out of the car and went. That was by far the most noticeable part of being sans baby. (Lord knows we haven't yet learned to save our "adult" conversation for after he's gone to bed.) That and how much we got to hold hands (and remembering how much we like to hold hands).
In leaving the house without the kid, though, I got a little lax in my preparation and forgot to put the battery back in the camera before putting the camera back in my purse, so all I have are some pictures of the last Shakespeare we saw, three years ago (yeesh, have I had my UBJ* that long?! no wonder it's so shabby), and here's a picture we took when we came home after R&J, posing with a bottle of wine that we thought was $400 (Simon got it from a friend many years ago), but was really only $100. You can probably guess how I feel about expensive wine (it's a beverage, people; just a beverage), but it was nevertheless fun to celebrate the milestone in high style, even though we were watching mediocre half-price Shakespeare from plastic lawn chairs on gravel. Just keeping it real, I guess.
You still with me? This is kind of boring, hey? And yet! I persist!
So, yeah, Wombat turned six months old last Sunday, and as you saw, he swung (swinged?) on a swingset for the first time, which was awesome and heartbreaking and also fodder for my theory that any kid who likes to be swung (swang?) and tossed and bounced and spun and turned upside down as much as ours is destined for only one thing: Xtreme sports. Lord help me.
Cool thing about the swings, though: We were stuck in Marin County for the day, so we killed time with an old, forgotten past time that led us to a site I'd first explored, gosh, six?, seven? years ago with my ex and my pal Teddy. I could have sworn I wrote about it on the blog back then, but I can't find any reference to it, but just in case any of you have been around that long and remember, here's the formerly green and well-maintained walking labyrinth, now dried up and forgotten and practically hidden unless you know where to look. I can't believe all the things that have happened in between my visits to the labyrinth. My mind, eet ees blown. This photo was taken at the center, and then we ran it backward, Wombat giggling all the way. My little family.
We geocached until our socks were spiked with stickyburrs, we stopped by the outlets and only bought one thing (shorts to go with my New! Red! Bikini!), and then darkness fell so we sat in the parking lot of Whole Foods taking pictures of ourselves like people who were stuck in Marin County until midnight. (Simon was renting some equipment for a party that was supposed to last until 8 but ended up going until midnight. No complaints, though, since he made as much in forty-five minutes of set-up and tear-down as I do in TWO WEEKS at the job I've held for eight years and needed a college education to get in the first place. More on that dire situation later.) Also no complaints considering it was a good excuse to spend the day driving through the countryside with the boys, ending up at a beach near Bodega at 11 p.m. with the waves lit up by nothing but stars.
Ah, a lovely image to end on, except, crap, I forgot that we also went to Holly and Sean's engagement party last weekend and now the baby's awake and I have to get off the computer and go pop a boob in his bouche. See here and here and here for some pretty great and pretty pretty people who I can't say enough nice things about (especially since they knew enough not to take photos of me all gussied up for the event in a dress and heels and that darn UBJ*!).
*Ubiquitous Brown Jacket. I got it at Old Navy for $15 at least three years ago, and in the event that I one day (many years from now) decide it needs to be put out of its misery, I'll bury it in the backyard after a proper eulogy and maybe a commemorative slideshow of our best moments, set to Green Day's "Time of Your Life."Previous Next