Daytrip

Yesterday was one of those perfect afternoons with Allison Clare. Our babysitter couldn't come, so I got to be home with her all day after my morning class. She took an early, extra-long nap, so by the time she woke up, I had finished what I really needed to get done for the afternoon, and I took her up to the South Hills, which I love because there is a Barnes and Noble but which is far enough away that we need to plan to get there. I had a moment of dismay on arrival when I realized that I'd taken the stroller out of my trunk the other day (where it's been for almost all winter) and stowed it in the garage, but because I had my sling and the cafe turned out to have high chairs, we were in business.

As it turned out, it was a fortuitous mistake because AC loved being in the high chair where she could see all around the cafe, as opposed to being strapped into the stroller with its high back and sides. I was super-shy as a child and would have preferred invisibility in any situation, so it's to my astonishment that I've given birth to a little ham. She made friends with everyone who came and went in a 2-table radius, waving, smiling, and blowing kisses at strangers of both genders and all colors and ages, unperturbed if they didn't even see her for a while.

She also did this disconcerting thing she's been doing lately, where she chooses someone, stares at them with an amused expression for an uncomfortably long time, then bursts into a throaty giggle. I'm always thankful when the people either don't realize they're being stared at, or respond the way the woman did today, who laughed back and then told her friend, "I think that baby can tell how silly I am!"

It's days like these that make me treasure the experience of having just Allison Clare for now; it's so easy to have just one baby. It's so easy that I feel like I'm happy all the time, like everything we do is easy and joyous--like I can do whatever I want, if I can just fit it into her schedule. I can take her for the afternoon for a little excursion, and as long as she's in a good mood, it's great. When she's taking a nap, I can put in some serious, focused worktime. As much as she has changed our lives, we've been able to hold onto some times of peace and work that have made it kind of easy to be her parents. With another baby, the demands on me at home would naturally become much greater, and because I take care of her a lot during the daytime, my ability to work while taking care of her is a big component of our lifestyle.

And yet, I'm about to be 35, and Sam is 41, and my dear husband meets challenges best when momentum is on his side. We're already doing the baby thing, and it would be easiest for him to just continue. Plus, Allison Clare was something of a miracle baby, not only in the sense that all babies are miracles, but also in the sense that she was medically unlikely--and that means we probably can't take too many risks in terms of waiting as the clock continues to tick.

So I think our days like these may be numbered,* which really just makes them all the sweeter. I know that because I've loved them so much, I won't be ready to see them go, but I also know that I was completely unprepared for Allison Clare . . . and yet, the only thing my unpreparedness did was to show me that I didn't need to be prepared for happiness.

*No, this is not foreshadowing of future news, just speculation.