Spying
September 11, 2002
Just like that, my car goes from a place that’s usually so quiet it makes my head hurt to a giggle factory filled with Elmo songs, farm animal noises, and my favorite of all car games, I spy with my little eye. Things I used to make fun of my friends for are now the things I look forward to the most. Children are magical that way. Everything around you can be falling apart, but one smile…one cheery song, one tight grip of their tiny hand on yours, makes you stronger than you thought possible and reminds you of what’s really important. At the top of the important list -make sure my kid doesn’t f*ck up her relationships like I have! And speaking of f*cked up relationships…
“So what did you guys eat for dinner last night, sweetie?”
“Mmmmmmmm….chicken….tatoes….cookies!”
Not wanting her to perceive a problem, I think long and hard before I ask the question.
“Yummy, cookies! Tell me…how many bites of chicken did you have to eat before you got the cookies?”
Staring at her in the rear view mirror, I watch her struggle with the question before I rephrase it.
“Did you guys count your bites out loud or did you just eat until your tummy was full?”
“Tummy full.”
Relief sets in. Nevertheless, it’s too early to give Kurt the benefit of the doubt when it comes to his parenting skills. After all, it was the very fear of them sucking so bad that played a role in our demise. But, I have to admit, the long discussions we had about how to handle this little girl and to NOT be a food Nazi with her, went far and deep with Kurt, and he’s been nothing but a caring and sensitive parent to her. So far, so good. Unlike how he pestered me all those years; he hasn’t made her clean her plate yet.
We arrive at the cottage. The same cottage I moved into after I left Kurt and the same cottage Leo moved into after Kelly died. I’ve been here since November, 1998 and I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever leave, which is a peculiar prospect considering just a month ago I bought my dream home in Lafayette. Now that everything has happened, I have no idea what to do with the house, and it seems that I’m all alone to figure it out. I drop the load of kid crap I’m carrying onto the floor of my tiny living room, instantly overwhelmed with all of the decisions I’m now forced to make.
After unpacking her little suitcase and shoving the stupid fishing pole under the bed, I make her a delicious frozen corn dog dinner and then clean it off of her face and hands in a luxurious bubble bath. After she dives into the plastic bin of toys suctioned to the side of the tub and plays until the water is lukewarm, I tuck my precious gift into bed.
“Hold on sweetie, I’ll be right back.”
This is when I always lose it. When I’m tucking her in and she looks all cute and cozy…my self-deprecation snowballs. I have to excuse myself and run to the bathroom so she can’t see me. I always look in the mirror and ask myself if the little girl that I’m trying so hard not to screw up will be worse off for knowing me? Will she be just another undeserving casualty of my f*ckedupness? Staring at myself in the mirror, I think of Francesca, from The Bridges of Madison County. I thought I had long since said goodbye to her, but she magically reappeared in my life when the little girl in the other room did the same. Like Francesca, I have a child now. And, like her, my choices are made with my child’s best interest in mind. Unlike Francesca though, it seemed that I could do that and live a fabulous life at the same time. Everything had finally fallen into place for me and regardless of having a child; miraculously, none of my personal happiness had to be sacrificed in order to give her everything she deserved. In fact, there were days when I would walk around the Lafayette Reservoir (that I’ve come to know and love so well) and stare into the faces of all of the modern day Francesca’s and feel empowered by the risks I took to be different from them. Up until a few weeks ago, I honestly believed I could have my cake and eat it too. But then, I pulled a Chrissygan and totally f*cked myself. And now it seems that all I can do is wait for a Bridges of Madison County, part II to tell me what to do next, because I’m all out of ideas. With that thought, I wipe the last tear off of my face and set off to my little angel’s room to try not to screw her up.
Lowering her lights and tucking her in tight around every inch of her body just like she likes it, I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I love her very much and that I’ll always be here for her. I reassure her that I’m not going anywhere. Like every normal little girl, she moves right past my heartfelt words.
“One more game! Pleeeeeeeeezzzze!”
“Okay, just one more then it’s time for night-night.”
“I pie wit my widdle eye…somediiiiiiiiiin’ happy!”
“A bird!”
“Nooooooooo.”
“You!”
“Noooooooo.”
“I need another hint!”
“Ummmm, it’s somedin’ super dooper pwetty!”
“Are you sure it’s not you?”
Giggling, “It can’t be!”
“Why’s that?”
“Cuz I’m spyin’ somedin’ dat’s dead.
Already (adverb) al*read*y:
Indicating that something has happened before now, happened in the past before a particular time, or will have happened by or before a particular time in the future.
Could you please forgive me
We were so young
So in love
Dreamed together
Said you are the one
I’ll never forget, I’ll never regret you and me…
For one moment
(For One Moment/MaryAnne Marino)