DRUMS

Posted on May 20, 2013 by

We went to music class today. I LOVE Spenser’s music class! The kids play drums and bang sticks and dance while the teacher sings and another musician plays guitar… it’s a mini concert every week.

Today, there were a few new faces. One 2 1/2 year old kid and his mother or maybe nanny. I don’t really know which, because she barely spoke English but at the same time, she seemed to be friends with one of the other moms in the group. Normally, it wouldn’t matter if she was a mom or nanny, but you’ll see why I care.

During the drum time, the teacher puts lots of different drums out for the kids to play. There are many. As the music played, Spenser happily decided he wanted a drum across the room, right by the new boy. I guess the new boy thought it was his drum, but he wasn’t playing it. He wasn’t even sitting next to it. He was curled up on his mom/nanny’s lap with a sour face.

So as Spenser picked up the drum across the room and brought it over to where I was sitting, the new boy lost his shit; screaming, crying, carrying on, pointing …. very dramatic, as if Spenser had swiped it out from under him mid play. Yeah, it annoyed me. The mom/nanny made eye contact with me like he really wants that drum.

200747_1_9d855f4abff8302c3cd9b34345c72181

I put on a big fake smile and mouthed across the room, come share it. I nodded encouragement as the 2 1/2 year old scowled at me. The mom/nanny helped the 2 1/2 year old across to us where Spenser was happy to share the drum. The boy cried and carried on and tried to grab it, of course. “Can we play together?” I asked him.   I looked at my sweet happy boy* having fun in his class and felt so proud of him, sharing so well. The 2 1/2 year old pounded the drum once or twice and whined like it was torture. Then, in a second, the kid grabbed the drum right out from Spenser and picked it up and brought it across the room back to his seat. Spenser seemed confused and a little ruffled. The mom/nanny looked at me, as I looked to her and she said, in broken English, with a big smile, “Is that OK?”

Um, is that OK? Is that OK that your kid grabbed the drum like that or is that OK that you are  not going to tell him he can’t do that? Is it OK? Like you want me to tell you how to parent??? Because I will! I will if you ask me to…   But… I didn’t know how to respond. I tamped down that little rampage.

“Well, my son needs a drum!” I replied, not looking at her and got up (wanting to grab that drum back from the kid … but I didn’t, you guys) and found some other drum and brought it to Spenser, who played it, undisturbed.

And then, I should have just let it go, but I didn’t. You know what I did? I stared that 2 1/2 year old down. Yep. I just stared at him, as he a face like he was smelling a bag of old dead fish. He just sat there, not drumming the precious drum staring back at me. I guess you could say I gave him a dirty look. A long, dirty look. (I know, I’m horrible. I’m not proud.)

Through the rest of class, I could see the mom/nanny trying to catch my eye to smile at me. I avoided her glance.

I thought about my friend Kate and how she’s so nice and friendly to everyone. Like one time, There was a painter in my parking garage asking me to open a door for him because it was locked. I had the baby in my arms and I just couldn’t be bothered so I told him another way out. Then later, I felt guilty. Kate would have opened the door for him, with a smile.   A lot of my other mom friends are that way.

I know everyone has a different parenting/nanny style… I am going to have to deal with that better. I tried to let the drum situation go; Spenser had.

As we walked to the car, I heard Spenser’s little voice say, “Bye! Bye!” as he waved. I looked over and saw he was waving to the bratty drum snatcher.. I mean, the 2 1/2 year old. It was so sweet. Spenser is so pure. He touches my heart so deeply. I waved too. “Bye,” I called too.

Then, I took my sweetheart out for frozen yogurt.

026

027

What would you have done?

*It is slightly possible that others viewing the situation would say Spenser took that kid’s drum. That’s not how I saw it… and if I had seen it that way, I would have had S find a different drum.

Posted in MOM STUFF | Leave a comment

A NICE RELAXING MORNING

Posted on May 16, 2013 by

We had no plans for this morning – no classes, no urgent shopping or banks or doctors or anything. I though about going to the playspace but of course, it was closed. “We are going to have a nice relaxing morning!” I told Spenser at 6:15 when he woke up. I’d gotten about 7 1/2 hours sleep. Pretty good… then why did I feel exhausted?

Here was the problem; my 26 month old didn’t really want a nice relaxing morning. He wanted to get it done and make it happen… starting with throwing everything I had cleaned up last night, while he was sleeping, on the floor. My heart sank a little as things crashed and skidded and slid. It’s not that I’m a neat freak at all – its just that I pick up all this crap about 20 times a day, so that Spenser can throw it all again. Books thrown on the floor, toys pulled off shelves… just writing all this is making me exhausted.

“Wanna watch George?” I asked, desperate by 8:30. He has taken to the Curious George cartoon, which is actually quite great. So we do that, as I lay on my bed with him and worry why am I so tired today? Is something wrong with me? I got 7 1/2 hours sleep. And then, as soon as the nice snuggle was getting relaxing, he wanted airplane and then wrestling and then we played mama nap which was actually good, except for the part where he would wake me up and I’d have to pop up and say “I’m awake!” That part was tiring.

Then he played cars while I cleaned the kitchen (yes, I often save kitchen cleaning for the morning.)  He has this cool car ramp, given to us by our 4 year old friend who had out grown it. Spenser plays with it intermittently, though out the day, though lately, the  blue tube on top has just become a place to throw things: cars, spoons, toys, shoes, remotes… you know, whatever he can reach. I find myself digging through it each night looking for my own stuff.  I clean it out about 5 times a day which is tiring mostly because I have to lay on the floor.

022

“Let’s draw!” I said and that lasted a minute or two.

We made pasta and ate it. And then he threw it across the room and buttery, cheesy spaghetti went everywhere. “Fall!” he said, delighted.

“It didn’t fall,” I said, trying to really teach, with a little undetected passive aggressive flair. “You threw it.”

“Let’s read!” And all he wants to read is this book where he takes the foam pieces out of the little holes that reveal boats and bikes and trains. That would be fine but he throws the pieces across the room and… well it just made me exhausted thinking about picking them up. But then reading the book without the foam pieces isn’t so rewarding.

“Let’s make a peanut butter and banana milkshake!” Now I was excited.

“NO!” he was almost crying… still traumatized by the loud blender from the kale smoothies.

“Schoom!” he said and I took a deep breath and exhaled. That meant: carry me outside and hold me as we wait for airplanes to schoom by. This is a good game. We play it almost everyday, but it’s not relaxing. So… we played schoom. We saw 2 great planes and a helicopter.

After much protest, he went into the crib and feel asleep pretty quickly.

Here’s my conclusion: staying at home to have a relaxing morning with my toddler is not possible, at this point. It’s more relaxing to go out and do something, somewhere that won’t mess up my small home even more.

Now, faced with two free hours and a messy house, I decide to have a piece of chocolate and write a little… I think when he wakes up, we are going out!

Oh, and this is fixed… as of yesterday.

015

Posted in MOM STUFF | Tagged | 2 Comments

DON’T FLY WITH A COLD

Posted on May 15, 2013 by

Everyone tells you that, right? But what could really happen?

A few weeks ago, I flew with a cold.  Most likely unrelated, I got very motion sick. Then, the next day, I felt very dizzy and had trouble reading and… thinking. UGH. It was scary, you guys. After a week, I assumed it was from flying with a cold, but couldn’t help worrying if it was something else. Something very serious.

My GP said it was probably an inner ear virus and would go away. Then I went to an ENT who said everything looked OK (that’s what I was afraid of) and it didn’t sound like an inner ear virus, which usually involves nausea and vomiting, but it could be. Would I like to get an MRI?

I wanted one, but the doctor explained that I’d have all these other symptoms if it was more serious and I wouldn’t be seeing improvements.

It took almost 2 weeks for the symptoms to go away and during that time, I couldn’t read and I could barely sit at the computer… I found myself resting during Spense’s naps… and I liked it. There’s so much to do when the toddler sleeps; clean, pay bills, write, blog, work etc. but taking a two hour lie down is delicious.

My son has now decided that 5:20 is a great time to wake up, so I get him to bed around 7:30 and then I have to eat, shower and do stuff before 10… but not these last few weeks. I’ve just been resting. So nice.

So now, I am feeling better, but I don’t want to get back to doing stuff during nap. I’m actually tired. I’m telling myself I’m still healing from this inner ear virus or whatever. Or maybe it’s because Spenser has become a non stop destruction crew; tearing my small home apart in minutes and I’m exhausted from just trying to clear a path.

I’m not going to fly with a cold anymore, even though I never got a firm confirmation that’s what caused this. And, I’m just going to rest, if I’m tired.

So, I’m going to go lie down now.

014 016 019 022

Posted in OFF TOPIC | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

KALE SMOOTHIE

Posted on May 9, 2013 by

2 bananas

12 0z apple juice

3 big kale leaves

ice

BLEND.

009

 

Serve in a champagne flute that you never use anymore. MMMMM……..

007

 

We like it.

003

 

Sort of…

002

Posted in FOOD, MOM STUFF | Tagged | Leave a comment

RAIN

002

Image | Posted on May 7, 2013 by | 3 Comments

UNEXPECTED CHEDDAR

Posted on May 4, 2013 by

At Trader Joe’s, the other day, Spenser and I were sampling a pasta with a shaved cheese on top. Spenser at 3 sample cups full. I always worry I will get in trouble for taking so many samples but I think by now everyone knows I spend about 1/4 of my income there. The guy at the sample table, Hank, wasn’t one of our closest crew member friends there, but we know him and like him and he always stops to talk to Spenser. He’s young… maybe a little shy.

“Mmmm, this is great,” I said tasting a bit of the pasta, but not too much – it was for my son who barely eats and was now eating.

“Yes,” Hank said, “it’s new.”

“And this parmesan cheese on top is great,” I said.

“Yes,” Hank agreed again. “It’s the unexpected cheddar.”

I laughed. “Oh yes, cheddar in a parmesan cheese is unexpected.”

Hank didn’t laugh or smile. “No, it’s called unexpected cheddar. It is sooooooooo good.”

062

 

I went to the cheese section and there it was “Unexpected cheddar.” Oh, my husband is so clever sometimes. I bought it and yes, it’s delicious. I will be buying it regularly.

In other news… I can’t find Spenser’s special Trader Joe’s name tag. I always expected he’d lose it someday by pulling it off in the store… but somehow, I’ve lost it. I’m quite distraught.

018

Posted in MOM STUFF, TRADER JOE'S | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

BLUE BALLS

Posted on May 1, 2013 by

I had the whole day planned; Trader Joe’s in the morning and then the children’s play space that we are members of, but rarely go to. This play space is great – close to my house, clean, safe, fun activities and free for us because Dan bought us a membership there as a gift! But every time I get it together to go… something goes wrong. Usually it’s closed. It has weird hours.

But today, it was open. I had checked on line and everything.

This happened at Trader Joe’s:  ”Mama!!” ~Spenser, pointing to the mermaid.

012

So after Trader Joe’s I drove to the play space. “Do you want to go to the place with the balls? Where you jump into the balls.” I asked Spenser. “You know the ball pit with the balls that are blue.” I just couldn’t bring myself to say blue balls.

“Yeah!” he said. I thought he probably didn’t really know what I was talking about since we hadn’t actually made it inside there in a while, but the words BALL and JUMP were enough.

We pulled into the parking lot and I saw lots of other moms and kids heading in. YES! I’m awesome. It’s open.

“Wanna play in the water and jump in the balls and play with the trucks?” I said confidently.

I wasn’t going to be a tease about the blue balls this time.

This place is in a building with a lot of security – your car is checked in the parking lot and you have to go through a metal detector at the front. When we went through the front, there was a line to get into the play space. I recognized the woman at the desk. She was helping someone choose a membership package and then there were a few more people behind. It was going to be a while. Spenser ran to a few attractions in the lobby as I dug in my huge bag for my wallet – might as well get my membership card out now. Spenser ran around excitedly pointing at things, remembering where we were and I kept digging. Where was my wallet? Oh God. I didn’t have my wallet? WTF? Seriously – What the F???? My wallet was not there. Where the hell was my wallet but more importantly was I really going to disappoint Spenser again? No! I couldn’t!

I ran through my options as the line got shorter.

1.Run home, look for my wallet and come back, if I found my wallet. This would involve a lot of screaming if we left right now.

2.Tell the woman at the front what had happened and hope that she remembered me and let me in – even though I didn’t have ID on me. (I didn’t know if they had a record of my membership. It’s kind of the old fashioned, show your ID kind of place.) If she said no, then go home. see #1.

3.Try to sneak in.

Spenser pointed to the entrance. “Go!” he said emphatically. My heart broke. My love for him and need to delight him with jumping into balls overwhelmed me and felt like I had to get him in there NOW or else I was a horrible mother…  I decided to do option #3 – sneak in. I’m a paid member! I told myself. It’s not like I’m teaching Spenser to be a criminal. Is it? Were there tons on video cameras here? Was there as much security inside as out?

When the woman at the desk was talking to someone, I snuck us in. It was pretty easy. As Spenser ran into the playroom, I looked over my shoulder, like a fugitive. I tried to keep my arms crossed so no one noticed I didn’t have a hand stamp.

Spenser played and jumped and had the greatest time, as the guilt got to me. I thought of  possible ways I could get out of this, if I got caught… Play forgetful: Oh sorry, I forgot to check in. Play dumb: Oh, do I have to check in even if I’m a member? After many different ideas, I decided that the best option would be to cry. I’d just cry and explain how I was a member but didn’t have my card and didn’t want to torture my child by making him leave. I’d appeal to their heart and cry.

“Blue…. Ball!” Spenser said joyfully. He’s starting to make lots and lots of two word sentences. It’s very exciting.

“Yes!” I said and repeated softly,”blue balls.”

047

S was having a blast jumping in the ball pit again and again. We played for almost an hour sans incident. I really kept expecting to get in trouble. What if I got kicked out and asked never to return? As Spenser ran from activity to activity, I got more and more paranoid and I tried to plan my exit strategy: leave with a large group, wait till no one is at the desk… ugh. I just felt bad – I’m really a do right person (maybe to a fault) and I should have told the woman at the desk my problem and hoped that she would let me in. But it was too late now.

A child had brought a plastic firefighter hat into the ball pit area and Spenser put it on. He was just about to do a head dive into the pit when I stopped him. “Spenser! You need to take the hat off before you jump in. You could hurt your head.”

Spenser did not like that one bit and screamed and lay on the ground and melted down.

“You can wear the hat OR jump in the balls,” I said, remembering to give choices with boundaries.

“No! NO!” he screamed. It was lunch time and he was hungry and exhausted. “NO!!!!” He cried on the floor.

OMG! This is it. I can run out of here while he’s having a tantrum and no one will stop me. Who wants to deal with a screaming kid? No one!

I scooped S up and hugged him tightly. “It’s time to go, Love. Time to go home and eat.”

“NO!!!!!!!” he screamed. “More please! More please!” (which sounds like mo peas!)

The mo peas kills me. I wanted to stop and say OK. Now I was even more guilt ridden. I hadn’t given S a warning that we were going to leave and I made it seem like his expression of feelings was the reason we were leaving. Spenser was listening to me about the hat, even though he was unhappy. He wasn’t jumping with it on like I had said. I was hating myself.

We ran into the lobby. “Mo peas! Mo peas!” Spenser screamed and writhed and clung to me, begging. I kept my focus straight ahead to the door. I decided to squeeze by a woman nursing a newborn, rather than walk by the front desk. Just as I reached the front door Spenser screamed with all his might, “BLUE BALLS! BLUE BALL!  BLUE BALL!!!!”

I don’t think I could have attracted more attention if I’d wanted to.

I RAN to my car!

The lady at the desk didn’t catch me.  My wallet was in my swimming lesson bag from yesterday (duh) and my beautiful, wonderful, resilient boy was happily eating lunch about 15 minutes later.

“Blue Ball,” he said, right before he took his nap.

What would you have done?

044

Posted in MOM STUFF, TRADER JOE'S | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

BRADLEY…. A DATING STORY

Posted on April 29, 2013 by

When I was about 29, my best friend from high school, Tia,  set me up on a date with Bradley, a guy from her husband’s work. Tia was obsessed (as only a best friend can be) with the fact that I wasn’t close to finding a husband and starting a family. She had a one year old son and she was very happy with her new family. “What are you going to do when you are older and single and want to have kids?” she asked… like she was some kind of fortune teller or something.

We decided we would double date. We all met at a Bandara; Tia and her husband, with a sleeping child in a car seat carrier and me with my best game face and Bradley.

These were the days before on line dating but I was getting set up all the time. I was a blind date queen, though I never really clicked with any of the guys and I usually came away with crazy date stories. I wasn’t really ready to settle down but still, I dated a lot. I was rarely nervous and still open minded.

So Bradley arrived. He was a short, curly haired blonde, in a tight, black, short sleeved, nylon t-shirt that accentuated his biceps. “Hey,” he smiled at me. He and Tia’s husband shook hands. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” he said, pointing to my sleeping one year old godson. I realized then he didn’t know Tia’s husband very well. It was a nice summer night and it was still light outside at 7pm.

We all followed the hostess into the dark, atmospheric dining room. Bradley and I walked behind, slowly. “I had a lot of shrimp last night,” he said to me. Good opening line.

“Oh, wow,” I said. “I love shrimp!”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” he said, “I ate a LOT of shrimp.”

“OK,” I said, “I get it, because shrimp is delicious.”

“No. But I ate A LOT of shrimp.”

“It’s OK. It’s good protein.”

“No, no, no,” he said, dismissing my efforts to be agreeable, “I ate… SO MUCH shrimp. I mean SO MUCH!”

maine-shrimp-photo-2

“OK,” I said.

We approached the table. “So I probably won’t eat much tonight,” he said, “because of all the shrimp.”

“Right,” I said softly. Was there any way this guy could turn things around and become someone I wanted to hang out with, let alone, love?

So, we sat down and looked at our menus. There was some chit chat about how Bradley and Tia’s husband don’t run into each other at work anymore (they were lawyers at a big firm.)  ”I take the south elevator now,” Bradley said, “It has a lot of mirrors and it’s closer to the gym.” He flexed his bicep, like the mirrors were the reason it switched elevators.

The waiter came over and Bradley informed the rest of the party that he wasn’t going to order because he’d eaten so much shrimp last night. I sat quietly.

“Get something,” Tia said, trying to be encouraging.

“OK,” Bradly relented, picking up the menu. “Come back to me.”

We all ordered and I wondered if Bradley didn’t want to eat because he felt sick from the shrimp or if he thought he’d eaten too many calories. Like maybe they were fried shrimp?

“I’ll have a side of mashed potatoes,” Bradley announced, happy with himself.

Butter, cream, potatoes…. that’s how you make mashed potatoes. Bam. I just knew this guy had food issues.

The conversation flowed as I noticed Bradley eyeing the table bread. He played with the cloth napkin in the breadbasket.

“Where do you live? Do you live alone?” Bradley asked.

“I am living at home with my dad, right now,” I said.

“Evie’s mom died 3 years ago,” Tia told Bradley.

“Oh wow,” Bradley said, “You’re so lucky. I hate my mom.”

We were all silent.  That could have been the moment I got up an left. Was he joking? When he started ranting about his awful mother, we had our answer.

“He’s not marriage material,” Tia whispered to me, when our food arrived and Bradley was chatting with Tia’s husband about the firm. I already knew this.

Then Bradley thought of something really important he needed to share with the whole table. ”I used to be really fat.” He ate his mashed potatoes with delight.

Muscle flexing, tight shirts, food issues, mirrored elevators, a side of mashed potatoes, too much shrimp… made sense.

“Wanna know how I lost all my weight?” he asked.

We did. I was guessing there’d be a story of exercise and eating right, but I was wrong.

“Besides being fat, I also used to have this really bad under bite.” Bradley pointed to his now well aligned jaw. “Most of my teen years I begged my mom for jaw correction surgery, but she was too cheap to get it for me.” Bradley’s disdain for his mother was sharp and unapologetic  “But when I was 19, she took me to a medical facility at the Army base near our house. She got some kind of deal, letting medical students do the operation. After the surgery, it got infected and I had to go back. Turns out they’d left a surgical sponge in my sinus cavity! My fucking mother.  And they had to shoot this blue Windex-like stuff up my nose. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

I ate my BBQ chicken salad, horrified and also riveted.

“My jaw was wired shut for about 2 months and I had to eat everything in liquid form, out of a straw so I lost a ton of weight.” Bradley was so proud.

We Oooed and Awwed.

But his story wasn’t over.

“About five years later, I was over at my girlfriend’s parents house for dinner and as I opened my mouth to take a bite of food, my jaw unhinged and my chin dropped to my chest. I looked like I was giving a blow job to Godzilla.”

godzilla

Bradley wiped the remnants of the mashed potatoes, out of the dish with his finger and sucked it with a smack.

Posted in DATING, FOOD, SOLO STUFF, THINGS PEOPLE SAY | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

SPAGHETTI WITH BROCCOLI PESTO

Posted on April 28, 2013 by

Here’s the recipe from Valleybrink Road.

015

016 017

Making this right now….  Oh my GOD! Delicious!

It's a BIG hit!

It’s a BIG hit for a picky eater (unlike the green mac & cheese.)

Posted in FOOD, MOM STUFF | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

LACTATION CLASS AND HUSBANDS

Posted on April 27, 2013 by

When I was about 8 months pregnant, I took a lactation class at a boutique baby store. This time in my life had been so joyful. Being pregnant had given me so much more excitement, joy and happiness than I had ever expected. I mean, I knew having a son would be like that, but I didn’t know I’d be one of those crazy happy pregnant ladies… yeah, I really was crazy happy.

I did have little pangs of am I missing something by doing this alone moments. Not often. But sometimes when I saw other pregnant women with their loving partners, I’d have a moment. But mostly, I was just happy.

When I arrived to lactation class, the woman at the counter asked for my name.

“Evie,”I said.

“Husband’s name?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“Cookies and bathroom that way,” she said.

Everywhere I went; the OB, the fertility clinics etc, people were telling me that there were so many single moms by choice. I wanted to see them and meet them…. but it didn’t look like I was going to meet any here.

I went down the hall and helped myself to a cookie.  There was also a big bucket of beer on ice.

                        

Twelve women and one man milled about until the instructor Pam came in yelling, “Everyone have a seat!” Then she looked around and shouted, “Where are all the husbands? I hope your husbands are coming! There’s beer for your husbands! Are your husbands coming? Do they know they should come? Husbands can have BEER!”

She said husbands with a lot of force and frequency.

The whole husbands thing caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting there to be partners in a breastfeeding class.  I had a little bit of that I’m missing something feeling.  I had to give myself a quick, internal pep talk: It’s OK.  Remember how good things are and how excited you are.  Remember how you can do this and you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone. Remember, you are doing this your own way.

As each woman took her seat, Pam called, “Where’s your husband? There’s beer for your husband!”

When it was my turn to get asked “where’s your husband,” I wanted to give a cute answer like, “I don’t know, you tell me.” Or “I haven’t met him yet.”  But I didn’t want to sound bitter, so I just gave a little smile.

Pam spoke loudly, “You all need to take notes for your husbands if they aren’t here, but I hope your husbands are coming because we have beer for them!” She was giddy. “I’m sure most of your husbands work in the biz and so they are coming late, after their shoot.”

So weird.

Come on! Where were all the single moms? I silently pep-talked myself again.

A man walked in and Pam lit up. “Go get a beer!” Pam cheered, even before he had a chance to say hi to his wife (or girl friend or whatever…. Pam was the one assuming everyone was married.)

I looked around the room to see if anyone else thought this beer obsession was crazy.  If they did, they weren’t showing it. It was a room of tepid stares.

Pam repeated “Go get a beer,” to each man who walked it.  Within 30 minutes, most of the women were paired up with husbands, swilling their brews like we were at a sports bar. Crap. I wanted a beer too.

Pam finally began to talk about breast feeding and why she loved it so much and how great it is for you and the baby and how everyone can do it if you know what you are doing.  Then she asked everyone to go around the room and introduce themselves and our babies-to-be. I got excited.  I was excited to tell people I’m a single mom – so they have awareness and because somehow, it gives me more strength. After all the husband talk, I was going to shake things up a bit for Pam.

So, going around the circle, the women introduced themselves.  The husbands didn’t talk much but I’m sure they were nice guys. I didn’t wish any of them were my husband (meaning, I guess, I didn’t find any of them very attractive.) Is that mean?  I felt like the other couples were already tired. They were all very subdued and quiet. The pregnant ladies all seemed to be asking their partners to get them things. I told myself the couples were all probably fighting a lot and that gave me confidence. When it got to be my turn, I looked the men-drink-beer instructor in the eyes and said, “Hi, I’m Evie.  I’m having a boy and I’m a single mom and I’m so happy and excited.”

Was it my imagination?  Did the instructor look like she needed a minute? It did feel like the room got extra quiet. I couldn’t look but I tried not to imagine horrified looks and armpit snuggles.

“Of course, you are so excited,” she said, smiling huge.  “Will you have support and help from friends the first few weeks?”

“Yes,” I said.

The class continued introducing themselves.  All the women had big diamond rocks on their hands, except for one, who looked like she had had some major weight gain and so maybe didn’t fit.  If she was single, she didn’t take my lead and announce it (and eventually, her husband showed up.)

Pam launched into lessons:  “Husbands, your job is to…” “Husbands, make sure the doctor does …”  “Husbands make sure mom eats…” stuff like that.

I wondered if the word husbands bothered anyone else.  Was dads better? Partners?  I don’t know.  Whichever it is, I don’t have one with me. I just wondered what she would do if there was a lesbian couple.

Pam launched into a whole rehearsed bit about something called The Witching Hour. She dramatically set the scene:

“It starts in the early evening. Moms, your baby is screaming and crying and you can’t make her stop. You bounce on your ball, you nurse, you swing, and nothing helps. You are starving but you have no time to eat. Husbands, you call from work and say you are bringing home dinner.”

She looked at all the men, as they get their beer buzz on. “Husbands… don’t ask what the wives want for dinner! Just bring something! You know your wives! Bring them what they like. Then when you get home, you take the baby so your wife can eat!”

Pam looked around the room, making eye contact with all the husbands, until she got to me and her eyes locked on mine. She paused, and then said…  “For you… Trader Joe’s is your husband.”

I was horrified and yet… now I had a husband! Trader Joe!  Well, maybe I had husbands - I have all the Trader Joeses. I’m a polyamorist.

I could do worse.

(I had no idea that Pam’s proclamation would really come true.)

Posted in FOOD, PREGNANCY, THINGS PEOPLE SAY, TRADER JOE'S, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 11 Comments