thematically fickle

In the light of day, everything seems survivable. But last night, while in the throes of CrySnotCough Fest 2006, I honestly contemplated telling Sam that I was headed out for the proverbial pack of smokes. Seriously. I came dangerously close to needing a straight jacket and padded room. We put Ruby down for bed at six and she cried for almost three hours. Of course, we were checking in on her every ten to fifteen minutes but Team Parent had decided that it was being manipulated by this not yet 19 pound child (she was well on the way to recovery from her cold, wasn’t she?) and needed to be tough loved into slumber. Right. Shout out to Samantha: Flail Factor times 17 over here.

During the adoption process, Sam and I had many, many conversations about parenting and I distinctly recall that we didn’t subscribe to the let-the-baby-cry-it-out technique. So how we ended up getting sucked into that horror show I’m not quite sure; in reality, it was probably my doing but Sam was gallant enough to stand in solidarity. Oh how I love this man. At any rate, by 8:30 last night, we’d had enough and decided that we were proving nothing by letting our child shriek. So it was that Ruby fell asleep immediately (again) on my chest where, at a slightly elevated angle, the goo dripping ceaselessly from her nose to her throat couldn’t end up choking her into consciousness. Sam eventually moved her to her crib where she slept through the night and I was able to remove my make-up, brush my teeth and take Mama’s Cocktail: 4 Ibuprofen, a lipitor and a benadryl…thank GODESS for bendadryl.

Today was better, though the bodily functions remain. Ruby came to work with me but not before we stopped at Sam’s shop for coffee. Ever the AOE mascot, Ruby was in her usual, darling form save the boogers running down her face and smeared across her forehead. I tried to clean her up, repeatedly, but she protested loudly while twisting and thrashing to be free of my grasp. So I gave up and pretended like she was fresh out of the shower. Public parenting has the ability to make me very self-conscious if I let it. Fortunately, Sam came to the rescue with a smile, a reassuring kiss and his sleeve. What a MAN…he used his SLEEVE to wipe her snot! Not me. Nope. I didn’t even think to consider offering up my $16 faux suede Target jacket. There’s that maternal instinct not kicking in again; it gets stalled in first sometimes. Note to self: sleeve of jacket can be washed, child will view you with idolatry later.

After putting in a frenetic two hours at work, I brought Ruby home and did the often elusive Nap Transfer: move the sleeping child from car seat to crib without disturbance. I always have to reward myself with a mental end zone dance when I successfully complete this particular feat of parenting; the feeling is not unlike sticking a first-shot parallel park job. On the left hand side of the street. In rush hour traffic. Lucky me, I was able to grab an hour to myself; I inhaled a slice of veggie lasagna, since there is no other way to eat as a parent, and read a few chapters in my book before I was on duty again. Feeling refreshed and competent (last night was but a blip on my radar), I took Ruby and Ella out for a walk where I happened upon a group of 8 year olds playing in the park. A darling little boy ran directly up to the stroller and shouted in my direction WHY’S SHE BLACK? I swear I heard a needle being dragged across a record and all sound coming to a complete halt as 7 other kids stopped what they were doing and waited together, eyes large and blinking, for my answer.

I was stunned at first but answered honestly in my best voice for second graders: because her BIRTHmother and BIRTHfather are black and I adopted her and I’M her MOTHER and I’M WHITE! The music started again, birds chirped, wind blew, the girls carried on with jumping rope and the boy skipped off with his football, all apparently satisfied with my meager explanation. I stood frozen in my spot, whipping myself (stoopidstoopidstoopid!) for adding the part about being white, a fact which clearly didn’t necessitate explanation. My girls and I left the park and sauntered home, my confidence just a little bit dented but not permanently damaged. Ella chose to be exemplary at the end of her leash and Ruby kicked her little legs while chatting with the clouds. The rest of the day was peaceful and loving. Ruby went down without hassle and had extra big smiles for both Sam and me tonight. Which really makes everything so damn worth it.