“A List of Things for my Mom to Write About” – Hadley

We went to Hadley’s conference recently and her teacher told us that one of her favorite things to do is work at centers. She writes in her journal, looks up words in the dictionary, writes recipes, and does research.

And she makes list of things I can write about.

It’s quite a list with lots of variety, don’t you think? I particularly like #28 on the first list – “live things.” I also find it interesting that “bank” is on both of these lists. I wonder if I can write an anecdote about the bank.

My first outing after Hadley was born was to the bank.  I think she was about ten days old and I was dying to get out of the house and do something – something big, something exciting, something that would change the world!

So we went to the bank.

All was fine until I stopped the car at the cash station to punch in my pin number. Apparently, that’s a big no-no with 10 day old babies; stopping the car. Soon to be mothers? Don’t do that. NEVER STOP THE CAR and you will be just fine.

It’s amazing how difficult a task like punching in a few numbers and hitting “enter” becomes when a baby that’s not even the full length of your torso is crying.  How is it the world continues to revolve when noises like that are occurring? I felt like I needed to duck my head and take cover like the times in elementary school when you practiced tornado drills. Good gracious, where is there a safe place to hide?

It’s also amazing how soon I forgot about the not stopping the car rule. After the bank, Hadley stopped crying BECAUSE THE CAR WAS MOVING and I thought all was well again so why not get myself some coffee.  You know, like, a reward for doing a great, big, exciting, change the world kind of thing. So we go to Starbucks (where else, dear readers, is Callie going to go? Please tell me this isn’t a surprise. Oh! Callie went to Starbucks? That’s shocking!). I STOP THE CAR (it’s like watching a horror movie, isn’t it? Where the stupid white girl does what she’s not supposed to?), and Hadley commences to cry.  It’s not really fair to call it a cry, because it’s more like an angry war call.  These babies are not sad, you guys.  They are mad. Mad that the car has stopped. Soon to be moms? You will hear talk of four different types of cries, and you will be told by some well coiffed woman with perfectly matching jewelry and really white teeth that you too will soon learn the different cries of your baby, and then all will be well with the world because you can help to stop whatever it is they are crying about.  This is a lie. There is one cry and it is the angry cry.  It is the why the hell did you stop the car cry.

Most mothers would probably do what’s right and go home, but I am a donkey.  It’s true.  I’m a stubborn, stubborn, mule and I wanted coffee.  Some might say I wanted what the coffee represented: the ability to get out of a car, shut and lock the car, put the keys in your purse or pocket, open the door to Starbucks and welcome the robust smell of what is hopefully their darkest roast being brewed, and order some of it, then walking back to the car and on to your life.  These things: getting out of a car, remembering to shut the door let alone lock it, opening another door, etc. are really difficult to do with a child, so it is true I might’ve wanted what the coffee represented, but I also really, really like coffee.

I took Hadley out of the car, screaming, put her in the stroller, screaming, buckled her in, screaming, and pushed her towards Starbucks, screaming.  One woman watched me the entire time and when I got to the curb, she said, “That’s a lot of effort to go through for a cup of coffee.”  I told her to shut up. She couldn’t hear me though because Hadley was crying.

I got the coffee. We go home and by the time I pulled into our parking spot, Hadley fell asleep. I toted her up – goodness, she was so cute in her carseat all snuggled up in her hat and sleeper – and put the carseat in our kitchen next to the dishwasher.  There were no dishes in it, they were all in and next to the sink, all over the counter. Some were still on the stove. I didn’t load the dishwasher because I was tired, but I ran it because that’s what kept Hadley asleep – the whoosh of the water. I guess it sounds like the womb. I stood there and watched her and she took a deep, satisfied breath and slapped one hand over her head, the same way she sleeps today (not in front of the dishwasher, we’ve made some progress). I nodded, picked up my coffee, walked to the living room and called my mom.

“What have you been up to today?” she asked.

“Mom,” I said, “Today Hadley and I went to the bank.”

“Really?” I can tell from the sound of her voice she is excited for me. “Just you and Hadley? No help at all?”

“Nope. We did it all by ourselves.”

A big, exciting, change the world kind of thing.