I was meant to leave him with someone while I went to the library, which would have been for the best, any trip to the library is better done with as few children as possible. And anyway I’m the sort of person who not only acquires enough library fines to be blocked from borrowing books, but who also forgets that this is the case until she is at the counter with, in one arm, the books her four year old has lovingly chosen and in the other, the baby, being jiggled because he needs a nap. And if that wasn’t enough to exasperate I am also the sort of person who isn’t carrying cash on her person. So off we go, through the rain, back to the car, and I strap each of us in and I drive until I find somewhere to withdraw money. Who can break a four year old’s heart, particularly when they so sensibly said well isn’t that a shame when we had to leave the books behind?
But the baby gets more and more impatient with all the getting in and the getting out of the car and the jiggling soon seems a pointless irritation to him and I wonder why I couldn’t leave him behind. Because my arms ache to be free of the weight of a baby and my head clear of the distraction and yet here I am with a bond it seems that can’t be broken, even by me. The hours and hours of lying side by side in bed together, the sharing of intimate space, the way a certain shade of lamp light can conjure immediately for me those first few nights of his life, the studying of him, and the yielding to him, only I know what all this means, only I can soothe him, and in the end I just can’t leave him behind. Not even with someone who has raised more babies than me, not even with someone who loves him too.
I remember that. It’s amazing how they grow to not need you after needing you so much and how much like a smack in the face that can feel like, even though it is absolutely very nice to go to the library with no children at all.
Also, the Noodle used to poo every single time we went into the library and their baby change room was downstairs with no pusher access. Crazy. But it was air conditioned and also free so we went there quite a lot anyway.
This is beautiful (also the new header photo – beautiful). I remember those days… my “baby” is now 14 and entering high school in the fall – last bird in the nest. Don’t get me wrong – I LOVE the freedom and the lessening of the intensity of hands-on parenting that little ones need, but I remember those days and though it is so predictable and mundane to say so…. I really don’t know where the years went. How ever does time move so slowly (because I thought those days would NEVER end) yet so quickly at the same time?
This was beautifully written and exactly captured it.
Beautiful.
yup. its all so familiar. its the Cartesian split.
I know what you mean. I have a two and half year old and a 3 month old, similar to you. I came across your blog one day while I was researching feminists raising children and I have checked back every so often to see what you have to say. I enjoy your words. Thank you.