cafe society

the missus was going to take the boy with her grocery shopping today, but after the lad awoke with a screaming case of the tantrums and the radio reported bumper-to-bumper, pre-snowstorm traffic between the three miles from kroger to wal-mart, she decided she needed a shot of caffeine before what promised to be a daunting task.

she headed to a new-ish place out on the east end whose beans drew raves from the local coffee addicts.

after trucking out the boy, she entered to find what she called a sad scene.

the snug joint was packed on a saturday afternoon, so it wasn't a lack of business that she was referring to.

it was more of seeing a roomful of people who wanted to be seen.

there were young singletons "working" on laptops with wi-fi and middle-aged folks trying to make the scene in the latest youth culture hangout. people with nothing better to do on a sunny day.

as she described what she saw, it reminded us both of our single lives, where we hoped for happy accidents in public places that would eventually pile up into an introduction or even a date.

i remember the futility and desperation of such thinking -- waiting to be "discovered" in a town where it seemed all of the good ones were taken, hoping a hidden gem or diamond in the rough would take a shine to me.

hence, the wing-man or group date to provide a buffer against rebuffs or just camouflage from which to scout. i got a few dates this way, but more importantly, it forged friendships and made memories.

(what's funny is that one of those friends eventually became my wife. it worked out nicely that way.)

i listened to her report on the coffee run while trying to burp the baby and entice the boy to take off his shoes. that old life seemed like a lifetime ago.

in the abstract, i remember the fun, ancillary qualities of single living -- late nights, late mornings, responsibility only to myself.

but the key word was "single."

i may not have envisioned a desire to be sleep-deprived, haggard and living in barely controlled disarray, but deep down, i always saw myself with someone.

and now i've got three someones in my life. that's about as much stimulation as i really need these days.

the boy and the girls

more text message excerpts from the missus. this set revealing either a new acceptance or sycophancy on the boy's part regarding the new kid on the block.

29 january - 6:05 p.m.

The mess on the bathroom floor is my exploded uterus. As i was getting his bath ready, he went over to bassinet in hall, kissed pip twice on forehead and said, 'hi baby. Happy? Happy? Okay? Okay. Bye baby.' and then he kissed her again.

also learned to suck up to mommy:

31 january - 5:22 p.m.

Did you teach [the boy] to tell me my hair is pretty? I just leaned down to urge him to eat his dinner and he stroked my hair and said, 'mommy hair. It pretty.' it doesn't work for you, and it's not gonna work for him. Except it totally did.

just thinking

the synapses are starting to connect and the boy belies his mama's concerns of his baby talk by showing up at the speech therapist a few weeks ago using words not in the vocabulary of 3-year-olds -- like "octagon".

i watched him as i put him to bed this evening, absently stroking his hair and wondering what thoughts were going through his head as he slurped on his evening sippy cup of milk and stared out of his crib.

even as he's "getting it," he's bumping up against the frustration of not being able to express his desires and getting pretty pissed off about it. a lot.

(or, finding that merely expressing them doesn't guarantee their being granted. requests for more "almo," for example.)

the screech is pretty much a part of his daily communications, as are the tantrums.

we're hoping that by ignoring them or linking them to time-outs he'll eventually move on.

then, he'll just be communicative -- and older.

i'd better get his earnest, nonsensical declarations down on tape before they're replaced by multi-word sentences.

otherwise, as the boy would say, they'll be "a-kay. bye!" forever.