I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving
I Write To Understand. I Write To Stop Time
If we were having coffee, we would both arrive at the same time, a different shop than we normally go to, this one out in the woods. There’s a large truck idling outside, and the noise and gas its belching clashes with the serenity of the trees around us. We’re not happy about that, but the gentleman barista brings us our cappuccino. I like this part, I say to you.
If we were having coffee, we would be glad to walk into the warm coffee house. It’s colder outside today than normal! I remark when I see you push the hood off your head, shaking raindrops off. It is wintertime, but I have been so pleasantly surprised by how mild the winter has been, particularly since I’ve heard how nasty it is in the Mid-West. The Wee One and I were even able to go hiking this past week!
Speaking of hiking, a woman walks in pushing a double stroller with twin toddlers. They’re subdued under their blanket, but she still struggles getting the stroller through the front door and between the close small tables. Seeing them all makes me miss the Wee One, who had daddy-daughter time these days I go and write and have coffee with girlfriends.
Today when I left, he was skyping with his parents and showing off her standing up skills. She will position herself standing by something, and then let go, just to do it. She’s not showing off for us, she’s practicing and testing herself. I think she’s remarkable. All babies might do that, you point out; I don’t want to know! I exclaim. My daughter is the most extraordinary creature EVER! I say with a wink and a smile. Of course, you agree.
If we were having coffee, I tell you about talking to my best friend last night and how nervous she is about going on a first date with someone. Do you have first date horror stories? you ask me, and I make a face remembering it. There was one guy I met bicycling the MKT Trail outside of the Columbia, Missouri. We enjoyed talking and raced each other to the Katy trail. He was an Air Force vet and kind of cute, but I was getting more and more uncomfortable as we rode back in. He gave me his number (this was before cell phones) and I raced home reciting it to myself. I dialed the number when we got home, as I had promised I would, and asked for Gary. “Gary?” the guy who answered started laughing. “Who’s Gary? You mean Greg?” Ouch. That’s embarrassing and I hate being laughed at. Then Gary/Greg got on the phone, and it was so awkward and weird, I was happy when we hung up.
Etta James “At Last” comes over the speakers, and my heart clutches as it always does. We both stop talking to sway in time to the song. I had wanted this to be the first song Cohiba and I danced to after we got married, but I didn’t have that kind of wedding reception. We did have a first dance, though, just after the ceremony and then a dinner with our guests at one of the restaurants in EPCOT. As a compromise, we put the song on our wedding video, over the high reel.
If we were having coffee, I wonder aloud is that is why I like to watch people and try to read what’s going on., particularly when I think its a first date. First dates can go in so many directions, it’s like a crap shoot. Even over the course of the date itself, things shift. Still, she’ll come home with a story, hopefully better than the one I just told.
Now Sam Cooke is playing. The tunes in here today are live and on point.
If we were having coffee, your mouth would open at the sight of the bandage on my ring finger. What happened?! Girl, let me tell you, and this is going to get kind of gross. I was using my new mandolin slicer to cut bits of apple for the Wee One, and wouldn’t you know it, I sliced the corner of my finger off.*
You immediately grimace and gasp. It’s not as bad as it sounds but it sucked when it happened. At first I thought I would have to get stitches, but there was nothing to stitch together! And then I thought, how am I going to get her out of her high chair and into a car seat without bleeding all over the place? I was trying to keep it elevated and pressure on it, which meant I couldn’t do anything with her! It also meant I had a sanitary napkin wrapped around my finger, which was the only sanitary wound care thing we had in the house, and looked pretty funny.
Then, she started choking on one of those fucking apple slices! She ended up throwing up a little bit, which got it out, but I was so upset, more than about my finger. I got her out of her high chair and held her for awhile, during which time the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped. I had contacted a friend to come over and help with her, for which I am so thankful. She stayed here and I got a proper bandage.
If we were having coffee, you would ask about the Wee One’s birthday party. It was so much work, man. I didn’t know it would be so much work, but, we had it in the clubhouse of the apartment complex, which is probably why it felt like so much: I had to take everything there and bring it back, which meant packing and unpacking the car. But the Wee One had fun and I’m glad it’s done.
We’re briefly distracted by some kids player soccer in the parking lot outside. I hope that doesn’t last long, you observe, given the traffic that comes through.
If we were having coffee, I would comment on one of the babies at the birthday party: she turned four months yesterday, which is about the age the Wee One was when we moved out here. It was remarkable to hold her and compare between then and now.
She’s a year old now. I can tell that she isn’t a baby anymore, but she’s not quite a toddler yet either. (Though that may mostly because because she’s still not mobile.) I can’t tell if I’m sad or not; I mostly just want to hold the Wee One closer. Which I usually want to do anyway. Also, my first year of motherhood is over. Even with a second, it won’t be my first time through. This special sacred tremulous time is over. Of course, now it’s my first time mothering a toddler, so here’s to that, I say with a smile, raising my coffee.
*It has made typing this week quite difficult!
If we were having coffee, when I walk to the table, I notice a cherry danish where I would normally be sitting. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask you, half serious. You, silly! you say. You bought me a treat for Valentine’s Day, and now I feel like an asshole because I hadn’t thought of the same thing.
You wave me away when I say that, and point to one side. A side you cut. It was actually half of yours, but you knew I would feel like a jerk and you wanted to get a little chuckle this morning. I’m so glad I please you, I say, rolling my eyes. You notice I’m not drinking out of a paper cup, but a porcelain one. It’s actually quite big and you joke with me about being at Central Perk, from Friends. Oh stop, I say. You’re not that funny. You throw a napkin at me.
If we were having coffee, you ask me about Valentine’s Day with Cohiba and the Wee One. I shrug and roll my eyes. Cohiba and I really think it’s just a Hallmark holiday to make money so we don’t really care about doing big gestures. Instead, we went out for (a very early) dinner as a family, as we usually do on Saturday nights. We talked and made plans and watched the Wee One interact with other kids and learn about gravity by dropping things. You tell me you’ll be having a ‘Galentine’s‘ dinner with friends, which I think sounds like fun. I’ve actually never done that, and I just now realized that I could. You can come to mine next year, you say, if you make the cut.
This reminds me of a really sweet offer a friend of mine made. The Wee One’s birthday party is next weekend, and she said I could call on her if we needed any help picking anything up! Until she said that and I started thinking about it, I didn’t even realize how much having an extra person would help and how much her offer meant to me. You know, being a mother is also teaching me about friendship and being a good friend. Lessons I would not have learned otherwise. Cohiba and I were talking about that at dinner last night, how the Wee One has helped us be a better couple.
That sounds like a pretty nice Valentine’s Day lesson, you muse, and I agree.
If we were having coffee, you would ask me about how the story is coming; am I still working on it? I tell you that I think I’ve set a goal to finish my March. Ooh! I should put that on my 52/52! I say. Have you heard of National Novel Writing Month in November? You squint your eyes and say you think you have. When I do the blog posts every day in November, I’m doing it in lieu of a No, a novel. Have you every written one in a month? you ask me, and I tell you I haven’t, but I did write over 10,000 words, which is more than I’ve ever done before. And I don’t think this story should be a novel, at least not right now. So a 10,000 word story is good.
Well, I’m looking forward to it, you say.
If we were having coffee, a very large group beats us to the counter to order. We try to decide if they’re family, because they’re of varying ages, or a social group, because they’re all in athletic gear (football, to be exact) and carrying a ball with them. Perhaps both? you guess. This is Super Bowl Sunday, I say, and you shake your head. I think I hear you grumble something about ‘thank God that’ll be over,’ referring to football season, but I smile because I know you’re teasing.
I have been thinking all week about ‘happiness’ since we talked about it, and I thought of something else I do to promote happiness in myself – when the automatic negative thoughts begin to run the train track around my head, I deliberately point out to myself the blessings I have, which is easy to do when I have a child as wonderful as my Wee One.
If we were having coffee, we would comment on how quiet it seems in here today – why is that? There aren’t a lot of people – is the church crowd still in church? we wonder. I’m having trouble remembering what I did this week. Does that happen to you? Is it because I don’t have the flow of energy of people around us?
If we were having coffee, we would be meeting later than normal. Cohiba asked if I could take the Wee One during part of the morning, and so you and I arranged to meet in the afternoon. I offer to buy your coffee in thanks for your flexibility, but you wave me off. Its warm enough that we can sit outside, in the sun. Cohiba was right about the winter being better here, I comment to you, thinking of my friends in the Midwest who can’t even think about going outside without the wind cutting their face.
There is a father daughter couple sitting next to us; they look like farmers or ranchers. Their boots are heavy and mud-encrusted, and the brim of his hat is broad. Her jeans, though, are bejeweled around the pockets, which is incongruous with the muddy cuffs and army jacket. Incongruous, but it still works. “You go, girl,” I say quietly as they walk to their truck, and you laugh.
If we were having coffee, I would start to tell you about party planing I’m doing for Wee One’s first birthday. She turned 11 months yesterday! Ack! I had the hardest time coming up with a theme, but I have and I’m really happy about it. Now I’m thinking about decorations and pictures I want to take.
I didn’t realize party planning could be so fun, though! I think its because I’m celebrating something I love so much. I’m also trying to keep it inexpensive, so I’ve been trying to borrow a large number “1” for birthday photos a friend is taking. I haven’t been able to, though, so I’m going to draw something. Do you think that will look stupid? I ask, afraid that homemade will look tacky. Your mom did a lot of homemade stuff when you were little, you say, and you thought it worked.
Now that I think about it, my mom did a lot of homemade stuff, too, and I knew how much effort she put into it and felt special that she put so much consideration into the items. Making things for her is a way to put my love into action, I realize.
If we were having coffee, my birthday is coming up as well, you remind me, and ask if I]’m going to do anything special. I can’t really think of anything yet, I tell you, though I did make up a birthday list, which I usually put off. Perhaps I’ll try to go to dinner with friends? You suggest going paint balling. Seriously? I ask. You went a few months ago, you say, and had a blast. I think I want something a little more low-key.
I might fall back on an old favorite: having a mix Superbowl party and birthday party. I love the Superbowl, and it’s always around my birthday. Would you come? I ask, and you wave your hand at me. “I hate football,” you remind me, smiling.
There are two young kids couple sitting at a table next to us leaning on each other’s laps, looking at their phones, and kissing. We giggle and we try not to stare as we gather our belongings to leave. Oh, we remember those days well, and are glad they’re past.
If we were having coffee, we would settle into our usual spots, noticing, for the first time, there are people we have seen in the weeks prior. They are regulars, as we are, and this makes us feel good. We smile at the “regular” label. After we settle with our drinks, I pull out a long glass bottle: homemade Irish cream, a Christmas gift from a friend. Isn’t this such a unique idea? I ask. I love Irish cream and its good, if not a little rough.
I tried to take the Wee One hiking this week, I tell you, because the weather was really nice where I live. It was not so nice, however, at the site of the park, less than 20 miles away. This take some getting used to: living in the mountains and how different things are at different elevations, even when the difference doesn’t seem that great.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I had a bit of a rough week and some anxious thoughts. I wonder if I need to go back to counseling. I’m annoyed by it, frankly, because its fucking work that I don’t want to have to do. It certainly wouldn’t hurt, you point out, and I agree. I also think that becoming involved with a faith community would help as well. I reached out to a couple of friends about it.
Cohiba has been sick and staying away from the Wee One, so I haven’t been able to sleep in or get some time away from her recently. Fortunately, her sleep schedule is better than it’s ever been. She’s taking two solid naps a day and I think she’s sleeping longer in the early morning. Even better, she’s starting to entertain herself in her crib, giving me a bit more time if I need it.
She’s also started humming when I sing and rock her to sleep.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you about meeting with another mother and having a girls night: wine and movies. It was a really good time and the first I’ve had since the Wee One was born. We tried watching Pitch Perfect. Your eyes light up and you start to chatter about how much you love it. I wasn’t so into it, but maybe I need to see it from the beginning. “Oh, you totally do,” I hear a voice from behind me. I turn, and see one of the barista’s cleaning the table behind me. “Sorry to eavesdrop, but I love that movie. I recommend you give it another chance.” You talk with her about your favorite parts, and I lean over to get the bottle from my bag. May as well finish off the Irish cream.
If we were having coffee, our greeting hug would be long. Its been about a month since we’ve seen each other, and had the holidays and a lot of life in that time.
We’re meeting in a different place-an almost quintessential Seattle coffeehouse, in an A-frame with fresh flowers peeking out of odd corners and colorful art of winter animals-and we’re torn with the desire to look around and take in the environment.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the trip home wasn’t as relaxing as I had hoped, and I’m happy to be back in my own place. Things were tense with my own family, and you raise an eyebrow to hear that. Your mother? you guess, and I happily tell you that she and I seem to be back on track right now. No, its someone else, and it was just tense. There was even one time I was afraid some of the trouble would be directed at my Wee One, so my mama hackles were up. I just hate when people are dicks, I say. Why do people have to be fucking dicks? You laugh at me in sympathy.
There was also that flooding and snow in the Midwest, which jacked up my flights and added to the already stressful prospect of flying with the baby. When we were with Cohiba’s family, though, he and I got to go out alone a few times, and that was nice. But I’m glad to be home and back to my routine with the Wee One. I didn’t even realize that we were so much in a routine until we got out of it.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you I got together with couch surfers! I haven’t seen these guys in so long. One of them is living in London, another lives in Costa Rica, another is recently married and pregnant, another just got back from living in Colorado, and another is getting treated for testicular cancer. Life, you know? But I was looking around the table and reflecting on the stories and memories I have with them all. Going home is good for that.
A couple at the table next to us is playing a tabletop game and they shuffle their deck of cards for the 10th time. Her hair and makeup are really well done, and we wonder if its a date.
If we were having coffee, we would talk about our upcoming plans for the year. Not quite resolutions, but having the holidays behind us gives us the chance to think about the future without getting overwhelmed by immediate requirements. I plan to play the Seattle tourist, I say, and mention that I already went to the Seattle Art Museum to see a special Impressionism exhibit. I took the Week One because I know how important these next few years are to her neural development. I want to give her the best chance I can.
I’m planning to take her to a skiing lodge tomorrow. I mean, Cohiba is going skiing with friends, and I’m going with them with the Wee One. They just had a baby as well, and I’ll watch them both. I have absolutely no desire to ski – Cohiba has tried! – but I want to see our friends and the mountains and, who knows? Maybe I’ll change my mind.
But I don’t think so.
If we were having coffee, you would be late and practically pushed in the door from the strength of the wind behind you. Is the wind always this strong in the winter? I ask you, and you shake your head and keep walking to the counter. You return with a croissant and coffee, and talk a bit about Christmas shopping. I’m preparing to travel, I tell you, so I haven’t been making many purchases – I’ll have to fly with it all!
I’m going to be on the road for a couple of weeks, and I’m going to miss Washington. You aren’t planning to leave the region, maybe go to Oregon, because a lot of people who live here are from Oregon. That is only one place on my list of places to visit while I live out here, I tell you, and you invite me for a visit with your family anytime. I want to go to Montana, Northern California and retrace steps I took in high school to the northwestern point on Washington and Tatoosh island.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you about being a Seattle tourist and going to Pike Place Market. It was a lot of fun and not as far or hard to get to as I thought it would be. Perhaps I am used to Mid-Western distances, but it used to take me 30ish minutes to drive to work every morning (and then a half hour back, or, if I took the bus, a 30 minute walk to and from the bus stop, plus an hour to the city), so driving 30 minutes to the Market or 20 minutes to story time in another town is nothing. Even with the horrible traffic – and it really does suck – its not that bad.
Ooh! But I saw one of the tent cities I’d heard about! I tell you, and you make a face of confusion. It seems that the city of Seattle actually allows homeless people to build up “tent cities” to live in. St. Louis doesn’t officially permit tent cities, though they line the river bank, particularly on the south side of the city. I remember visiting a few of them on the north side, about where they want to build the new football stadium right now. My agency had a Mobile Outreach team and I went with them to visit some of the folks living in the tents. We brought boxes of sandwiches and bottles of water, and checked in with people. A few people asked specific questions about vet representatives or clothing giveaways. They were working on getting their lives back together, though they were living off the grid.
If we were having coffee, we would each comment on how much we’ll miss meeting over the next few weeks and wonder if we could Skype? Or just text messages. This makes me think of a conversation I had with some friends last night. Some of us were in St. Louis, I was in Seattle, another one of us was in Costa Rica, and the other was in London. It was so cool for all of us to be chatting together in real time.
We’re going to meet for Sunday brunch after Christmas. We all used to be travel buddies, traveling together or visiting people and places based on each other’s recommendation. Now two of us are married, two are living abroad, and I have the Wee One. Oh, the places we’ve gone! It’ll be fun.
We part, eager to return with stories and insights.
I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving 