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in the club
Jul. 29th, 2007 02:42 pmSo we've been walking around the neighborhood this past week. A LOT. Bonzo loves to walk and look at trees and power lines, and sometimes he likes to sleep, and both of those things seem only able to be accomplished in the Baby Bjorn. (I'm trying to get him to like the sling as well, but he's more comfortable in his dad's sling than mine.) So around and around and around we go, past the high school and the produce stand to the bookstore and the beach and back again.
It's really interesting how differently people react to me with a baby on my chest. Many older folks have kind words or advice for me. Lots of them will tell me to try and get some rest, and enjoy this time. My postal carrier heard that Bonzo only likes to sleep in the Bjorn and immediately called him spoiled. (Can you spoil a 7 week old? I think not.) When we went to the grocery store on Friday, I kept up running commentary in the produce section: "What do you think we should have this week? Do you want some eggplant? Let's make some eggplant. What about this one?" and the woman next to me was just amazed and tickled that I was having a conversation with the baby. When we went to the liquor store, I asked Bonzo what he wanted in the beer aisle. The guy next to me asked, "Did you just ask the baby what kind of beer to get?" and I told him yes, the boy seemed to prefer porters so far. The young man recommended Blue Moon, and I decided he hadn't really been paying attention to me. That's one thing I'll say for young Bonzo: he always pays attention.
All the parents of young kids look at me and smile; some of them have all this nostalgia on their faces, some of them have something like pity for my tiny larval person. Lots of times we'll catch each other's eye across the street and nod. Sometimes we'll ask, "How old?" They are trying to remember what their own kid was like when so young. I am hungry for news of the future, trying to learn how quickly I can expect certain things to happen. I've got a stroller buddy in the middle of the weekday for the rest of my maternity leave; she totes around her 9 month baby like an expert and reassures me that sitting-up strollers are much more maneuverable than carseat strollers. Just down the block from me, there's a dad who walks his baby and his dog around the courtyard. She's five weeks older than Bonzo, we had a little conversation about eating and sleeping and routines. He says there are three other babies in the building younger than his own. It's like Baby Central over there. Since then, I've lurked around that building on every walk, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the other infants.
I shouldn't be surprised, but sometimes I forget that I have to carry my card to be in the club. I walked past Baby Central the other day and found that young dad I had the conversation with; he had the dog and the baby but I was by myself. I said hello as I went past on the sidewalk, and he looked at me but didn't respond at all, even to return the greeting. Let me never forget who the main attraction is around here.
It's really interesting how differently people react to me with a baby on my chest. Many older folks have kind words or advice for me. Lots of them will tell me to try and get some rest, and enjoy this time. My postal carrier heard that Bonzo only likes to sleep in the Bjorn and immediately called him spoiled. (Can you spoil a 7 week old? I think not.) When we went to the grocery store on Friday, I kept up running commentary in the produce section: "What do you think we should have this week? Do you want some eggplant? Let's make some eggplant. What about this one?" and the woman next to me was just amazed and tickled that I was having a conversation with the baby. When we went to the liquor store, I asked Bonzo what he wanted in the beer aisle. The guy next to me asked, "Did you just ask the baby what kind of beer to get?" and I told him yes, the boy seemed to prefer porters so far. The young man recommended Blue Moon, and I decided he hadn't really been paying attention to me. That's one thing I'll say for young Bonzo: he always pays attention.
All the parents of young kids look at me and smile; some of them have all this nostalgia on their faces, some of them have something like pity for my tiny larval person. Lots of times we'll catch each other's eye across the street and nod. Sometimes we'll ask, "How old?" They are trying to remember what their own kid was like when so young. I am hungry for news of the future, trying to learn how quickly I can expect certain things to happen. I've got a stroller buddy in the middle of the weekday for the rest of my maternity leave; she totes around her 9 month baby like an expert and reassures me that sitting-up strollers are much more maneuverable than carseat strollers. Just down the block from me, there's a dad who walks his baby and his dog around the courtyard. She's five weeks older than Bonzo, we had a little conversation about eating and sleeping and routines. He says there are three other babies in the building younger than his own. It's like Baby Central over there. Since then, I've lurked around that building on every walk, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the other infants.
I shouldn't be surprised, but sometimes I forget that I have to carry my card to be in the club. I walked past Baby Central the other day and found that young dad I had the conversation with; he had the dog and the baby but I was by myself. I said hello as I went past on the sidewalk, and he looked at me but didn't respond at all, even to return the greeting. Let me never forget who the main attraction is around here.
