The day didn’t start well. Orli had warned me that Gali, her toddler son, seemed be acting a bit “off” that morning. But I had promised that I would come again to help out today—despite the fact that I was still feeling depleted from helping out three days in a row at the beginning of the week while my son-in-law was sick.
“Why do you have to go?” my husband asked blithely as he made arrangements to meet with friends for Friday morning golf. “She should be able to manage with Gali and the baby. After all, we did.”
The truth is that he doesn’t remember what it was like when our own three children were that small. Not to mention the fact that, he had demonstrated the same cavalier attitude back then. But I do remember how exhausted I was. And the only reason that I managed on my own is that I had no one to call.
I slammed the door, gnashed my teeth, and rolled my eyes—wondering how I managed to stay married all these years. Then I headed out through freeway traffic once again for the hour drive to my daughter’s house. I had slept over for two nights at the beginning of the week and had brought an overnight bag with me today, too—just in case. But I was hoping that I would not have to use it.
The day was going to be hot, even in the East Bay. So I had brought along a bathing suit. Maybe we could all go to the pool, I thought optimistically. Orli could sit in the shade nursing Oz and I would play in the pool with Gali. That would allow Gali to expend his energy and then maybe he’d take a decent nap or go to sleep early.
But everything takes so much longer with a toddler and a newborn. Crying, nursing, spitting up. Packing up all the extra clothes and food. Diapers, wipes, suntan lotion, binkies, swim diaper and suit for Gali, snacks, food—he’s always hungry. It seems that both the boys are always hungry.
When all our gear was finally ready, Gali started to balk. Wanting to play with one toy and another. When our backs were turned, he started scattering play-dough all over the living room carpet.
“Time out!” my daughter declares. She’s been using more of these “time-outs” since Oz was born six weeks ago. Gali needs to help clean up.
He helps a little. And then volunteers excitedly, “I want to vacuum!”
“No,” my daughter explains, with an aside to me. “This is just a delaying tactic.”
The morning had been sifting away. It was getting close to noon by the time we strapped the kids into their carriers in the backseat of the car and set off for the pool. The baby is crying his head off, because he hates being put in the carseat. But he stops crying as soon as we reach the freeway. He likes the speed.
In the meantime, though, Gali has fallen asleep. Totally conked out. “He went to bed late last night,” Orli tells me, and got up early this morning.” She gets off at the nearest exit and we head back home. She’s not going to resist this opportunity for some downtime, even if it does mean a change in plans.
I carry Gali upstairs to his bed, making sure that his special doggie pillow and spare binkie are tucked right next to him.
Ozi is also still asleep in his carrier seat. So Orli and I get to eat lunch, both of us sitting down together at the table, in peace and quiet. Yay!!
But of course, the peace doesn’t last for long. Soon Ozi needs to eat again and then Gali wakes up. He hadn’t eaten lunch yet. So I heat up some pasta with cheese sauce that Orli had made previously and a veggie hotdog from Trader Joe. In a couple of minutes, I have a plate set for Gali with the sliced hotdog, pasta, mini carrots and edamame hummus dip. He likes everything on the plate, but insists of eating it as a picnic outside.
Why didn’t I just say yes immediately? That would have saved some trouble.
I must have been hoping that we could finish sooner if he sat at the kitchen table and then set off once again for our excursion to the pool.
In hindsight, I should have gone along immediately with his suggestion for eating it outside. That is what we ended up doing anyway.
I won’t go into all the other details that derailed our getting out of the house again in anything approaching a timely manner. But we finally did manage to leave and arrived at the park we had planned to go to in the morning only to find that the swimming pool was closed. Why? I don’t know. We didn’t get out of the car to read the details on the sign. Maybe the park just wanted to torture us.
Orli was not to be deterred. We had everything ready for the pool, so she headed off for a different pool—a longer distance away from her house. She had gone there with one of her sisters shortly before Oz was born and had pleasant memories of the day. It’s called “Stawberry Canyon Pool”. I conjured up images of a pool surrounded by grass and trees—maybe even wild strawberries.
When we got closer, I realized that it was one of Berkeley campus pools. There were no trees and very little grass in sight. The tiny lawn was closer to the lap pool section rather than the kiddie pool where I would have to go with Gali. For some reason, the weather was much cooler here than it had been in the Oakland Hills—even though it was just the next town over. We had dressed Oz for the heat and worried that he was cold. He started crying to be fed again, Orli couldn’t find a comfortable place to sit and nurse, and Gali was running around the concrete refusing to put on his bathing suit.
“This is not at all what I had in mind,” Orli bemoaned. It wasn’t what I had in mind either, I must admit.
“If you don’t cooperate,” Orli told Gali, “We are going to leave.” He didn’t cooperate and so leave we did. Back in the car with two crying kids. Our ten dollars admission fee (nonrefundable) and four dollars parking fee down the drain together with our spirits.
Oz continued to wail as Orli wended her way through slow traffic and Gali added to the cacophony by doing his own loud and increasingly louder imitation of baby talk.
Orli had planned to try one more option for an excursion—Lake Temescal. It was on our way back to her house and it had both a playground and a small beach area. But she warned Gali that we would go directly home unless he was willing to cease and desist from his ear-shattering , nerve-jangling mimicking of his baby brother.
Gali would not be persuaded to stop. He was on a roll. We stopped cajoling and headed straight back to the house, punishing both him and ourselves.
When Orli parked the car, Oz had stopped crying and was on the verge of sleep. I decided to snap his carrier seat into the baby carriage and take him for a walk to lull him fully to sleep. I also wanted this opportunity to get some distance from Gali.
Oz fell asleep and I took the opportunity to call a close girlfriend on my cellphone, “I’m losing it as a Grandma…”
She gave me a peptalk and I felt more relaxed as I headed back with Oz, who was just beginning to stir—probably ready to eat once again.
I found Orli and Gali having a snack in the shade of a tree in the front yard. Peace had been restored.
Soon, we transitioned to letting me help Gali water the garden with the hose. He loves to water the plants and we spent a long time doing that. He was reasonably content. His pants were soaked from the process, but that wasn’t a problem. In fact, his soaked pants were what gave me the idea that really salvaged the remainder of the day.
“Let’s take off all your clothes,” I said, “And then I’ll spray the water on you.” Gali liked the idea. I ran into the house for a big towel, then helped Gali off with his clothes. Soon he was prancing and running around in circles on the front lawn. He was laughing and declaring, “Look at me! I’m a butterfly!” It was already evening, but the sun was still strong as I looked through a rainbow at my beautiful red-headed grandson, his curls flying around his head, so happy to be alive.
