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Parenthood

 A part of me dies when the carpenter stops by to talk about my baby. This is because I dislike the carpenter, and yet he himself seems to have invented a scenario in which the presence of the baby papers over all the tension we've had these past few months.

The carpenter has one speech, and I've heard it often: "She's so little! She's so tiny! Can't get over that.....Gosh, I get winded on your stairs!"

In these moments, I try to remember Tami Taylor, from "Friday Night Lights." I smile broadly and say, "Hey, y'all!" I say: "I appreciate you. I appreciate your time."

***

I have nothing to teach you about the Graco Ready 2 Grow two-child stroller. I will say this: I like the use of "2." It means: "TO." It also means the number "two," as in "two children." It makes me think of certain Prince songs. "I Would Die 4 U." "Nothing Compares 2 U."

Have you stood, sweating, in a garage, cursing at a set of assembly instructions, when a neighbor approaches? (During projects, my curses always become Roman Catholic. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" "CHRIST ALMIGHTY!!!") A couple of times, these past few days, I've envisioned just chucking two car seats in a large shopping cart, and strapping the children in the seats--and don't think for a moment that I'm now ready to scuttle this plan.

***

One difficult feature of life is the free outdoor public event. My husband has a deeper sense of responsibility than I; he believes (correctly) that it's good to get Josh outside, socializing. My silent response: What if we stayed in and *read a book* about socializing?

A free outdoor event requires you to sit in sticky heat, and often to shift your weight again and again on an uneven, rocky surface. The act won't invest too much effort--because the event is free.

An event for children, however, has an added twist. The guitarist will believe that all guests want something with a *participation* element. So the large man up front will ask--in a bullying way--"WHO HERE PLAYS THE SAXOPHONE? RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU PLAY THE SAXOPHONE!"

But why does this man have authority over me, or my son?

And once you see the hands, what do you do? Do you grab a pencil and draw quick sketches of the other saxophonists--so you can remember, later, and gather these new friends and form some kind of Maplewood Saxophonist Guild?

I'm doing fine.....
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