Ladies and gentleman (unless FA stops by here again, there’s only one man who reads this site regularly that I know of), the wind has been taken out of my sails by the IRS. I am not going to go all crazy on my day 5 post because today we got a notice that we are being audited to the tune of $12,000. Let the shitting in the pants begin.

Still, I would have that missing feeling forever if I didn’t complete my story, so I’ll do my best and get it over with. Let me also say here that I dedicate the Going It Alone series to my friend Suzanne and her adorable son Jackson. Suz, if you’re reading this, I salute you.

Sunday, Going It Alone: Day 5

Slept in until 7:40. Since I was up so late the night before I prayed for Kyle to keep up the new “sleeping past 6:30” habit. He complied. Around 8 my neighbor called. She had her 2-year-old granddaughter for the weekend (the one in the “chill” picture below), so we decided to go for a long Sunday walk to replace my usual hike with Stew and the dog. It was lovely.

Then I piled Kyle into the Element, put the big stroller into the back, and took off for the mall. I really really really needed to get a birthday gift for my bestest friend since it was already a month late and she turned 35. (Foreshadowing my own 35th birthday at the end of September. I like surprises, just so you know. Except evil ones from the IRS.) I already ordered and received this T-shirt from Suburban Bliss. I ordered one for myself too, and I wore it to work last week. The young guys in the office didn’t get it. But the moms – oh the moms loved it a lot.

Kyle fidgeted and squawked all through Cost Plus, Ann Taylor Loft, and Hot Topic (do those stores ever get put in the same sentence?) so I brought him down to the play area, thinking he would tear around for a while and tire himself out. Not so. I placed him at the entry to the play area. He took one look, spun on his heel, and rocketed his little fat body the hell OUTTA THERE. There was a mile worth of mall to run in! Why fence him in?!

Thus began the day’s lesson in “You Must Hold Mommy’s Hand If You Want To Walk.” Much shrieking ensued. But I was not embarrassed because every other kid was shrieking, too. One mom with a similar sized toddler was chasing after him and harboring a large fetus under her belly. I didn’t envy her.

To reward Kyle for eventually surrendering, I brought him into Ben and Jerry’s and shared a scoop of Chocolate Therapy (they created an ice cream flavor just for me!). Then we headed home and I dumped him into his crib. Voila. As soon as he was quiet I marched right into the shower – over the piles of dirty clothes and the trail of bobby pins that Kyle had made from the bathroom vanity to the door. My inner Martha was screaming “just get a load of laundry in and mix up the brownies and fill the dishwasher and get that all started before your shower” but I knew better. Martha doesn’t have Kyle, and I don’t have a nanny.

It was a good thing, (haha, get it?) because Kyle’s nap was much shorter than usual. Try as I might, I could not get him down again after he woke about 1.5 hours later. Then it was time to leave for the barbecue anyway. The Head Mommy of the original Mommy group I was part of right after he was born was hosting this barbecue in her yard, which, incidentally, has fake grass. It’s the coolest thing. I’ll put a picture up if I have one. She paid a huge amount of money to put it in, but it looks amazingly real, she never has to water it or mow it or throw dead grass away, and it’s totally safe and comfy for kids to play on. Anyway. I parked around the corner from her house and practiced walking with Kyle again. It took us 10 minutes to make it to the door. Every time Kyle didn’t want to hold my hand or go the way I was going he made his body into a limp noodle and dissolved into a puddle of shrieking madness. I would stand there, wait for him to get over himself, and start the process again. We must have walked forward 2 steps every minute!

He had a good time playing with all of the toys there and with the other kids too. I was happy to let him roam because I was so tired already. Parties are tough with only one parent. You need one person to watch the kid and one to get drinks and food and socialize. Then you switch off. When you’re solo, you try to do both at once but inevitably you wind up in a situation in which your child is toddling down someone’s hallway with a night light cover in his hand while you are trying to cut up a hot dog for him to eat.

Despite my growing fatigue, I was social, as you can see below. I took 100 pictures. An impromptu jam session broke out among the children when one of them discovered a box of instruments. Kyle and I played the bongos and sang along to Peaceful Easy Feeling and Rocket Man. Kyle danced. It was fantastic.

Sidebar. I had “interesting” conversations with one couple, let’s call them Bob and Nancy Inappropriate. We were talking about being back at work, daycare, etc. They asked me about our situation, and I explained that Kyle is at a home-based daycare, I had a hard time transitioning, but it’s working out, etc. etc. They explained that Dad was at home with their daughter since Mom went back to work when baby was 3 months old. She is now 15 months. Interesting. This couple seemed like former punk hellraisers. I mean, Nancy has shaggy-dog bangs and was wearing bright lipstick and stacked-heel maryjanes with white socks. Bob looked, dressed, and sported facial hair like Dave Navarro. Bob is a musician. He’s Punk Rock Stay at Home Dad. That’s cool. I can dig that.

But Bob didn’t leave it at that. Even though I had just explained how my child is in daycare, Nancy pointed out that Bob didn’t want their kid in daycare. Bob continued “Just family watches her. I don’t want a stranger raising my child. I mean, when both parents work, the baby is with someone else ALL DAY. What kind of life is that? Not good enough for MY kid. Etc. Etc.”

I watched him. At first I was going to write “I stared at him,” but as I think about it now I recall that I purposely did not stare at him. I merely watched with detached amusement as I listened to this man pretty much dismiss my own situation, then crumple it up, toss it on the floor, and piss on it before grinding it into the ground with his heel. Was he kidding? No. Did he make apologies to working parents when he was done? NO! To her credit, Nancy weaseled a pathetic “well some people have no choice,” into Bob’s soapbox speech. Instead of taking offense or arguing with Bob, I merely involved myself in a conversation with someone else at the party. I’m still not even remotely riled up about it. I’m just surprised that people say these things out loud. To other people! At a party! I wonder if a) he wasn’t listening when I was talking about myself (and why wouldn’t he, since I’m SO fascinating?) or b) he simply has terrible social skills or c) a mild brain injury. In any case, I’m not lining up to be BFF with THAT guy.

Now to Nancy. She told me she is 5.5 months pregnant with her next child. Hooray for her, I said. I meant it. Two under two! Anyway, much later, as I was leaving the party because I was about to fall asleep standing up after extracting Kyle from his 1,837th rascallious situation, I said goodbye to Nancy. She said with glee “Oh! Give me your address! I want to invite you to my shower!”

Blink.

Blink.

I thought she was kidding. She wasn’t.

Not only am I not friends with this woman, but I have also not seen her in about a year, since our babies were in the same Gymboree class. In addition, her punk hubby just put me down in the most obvious way imaginable. AND ANOTHER THING. Who has a shower for their second baby? Her first one is a girl, and her second one is a girl. Does she need stuff? Is she broke? It’s possible. Dad staying at home to take care of baby, while admirable, could possibly be breaking their bank. On the other hand, maybe they have so much money that Dad has the choice to stay home in the first place. In that case, why would I be buying them stuff for their second kid? On the other hand, maybe they are totally kick-ass punk rockers who just wanna have a bitchin’ party and invite everyone they’ve ever spoken to. In THAT case, where do I RSVP?

These people are SUCH BLOG FODDER that I am absolutely going to that shower.

Okay this post has become monumental. I guess it’s therapy for my IRS worries.

Kyle and I got home from the party around 7:30. I cleaned him and wrestled him on my unmade bed for a while. He wriggled down from the bed and started running around but I just collapsed there. I was ready to fall asleep! Once he was in bed I did some writing, talked to my long lost husband, and went to bed.

Stewart came in around 11:30. He wound up taking a cab from the bus station because I didn’t want to wake Kyle up. It was worth it. He slept through the night again, and was a cheerful bundle of smiles for his daddy in the morning.