Interregnum Interrupted
Carter with his new sister, Sadie, September 2008
Someone asked me the other day when I was going to write an official “reaction” to the recent birth of our daughter. The thought had occurred to me, but when I sat down to put my feelings into words, I knew I hadn’t had an original thought about her arrival. Sure, I’ve experienced the joy, pride, and anxiety that swaddles every six-pound, newborn cherub like bubble wrap in a UPS delivery, but having been through this once, I realize those feelings aren’t altogether interesting to anyone outside my family.
Since Sadie is our second child–Carter, our oldest, is now three and a half–the real impact of her debut can’t be drawn out with the questions I answered the first time, like, “Are you getting any sleep?” “Who’s been doing the cooking?” or “Has the baby peed on you yet?” (Answers this time around: “Sort of,” “No one,” and, “Yes, repeatedly.”) Instead, it’s in how she fits into the family routine. In that context, Sadie’s birth was a big deal, but not even close to causing the most drastic change in our lives that week.
Carter started full-time preschool the day after Sadie was born; all-day, five days a week. That seems like a lot for a three-year-old, but for a kid with enough energy to power a city block on a hot summer day, it’s just what the doctor ordered. Not only that, the school is a block away from our house, so I can walk him to school in the morning and be back at my desk before 9 a.m. No more public transit adventures to the north side for his old part-time school. No more arguing over the basic laws of nature when we take the dog for his lunchtime walk. And no more being embarrassed to open the windows when the weather is nice because Carter is the loudest kid in the Chicagoland area. The silence in our house, now that he’s gone for seven hours a day, is deafening. You might think a newborn makes a lot of noise, but the difference between a a well-fed, diapered, and swaddled infant and a three-year-old boy is about the same as listening to AM radio with Kleenex jammed in your ears versus standing next to the speakers at a Metallica concert.
I almost feel bad reveling in his absence like this, but I’ll get over it. I look at this milestone as a job well-done. I felt like I’d reached the end of my usefulness for him anyway, at least in the sense of keeping him entertained for eight to 10 hours a day. He’s already blossomed in his first two weeks of school: his vocabulary has increased, his attention span has shown marked improvement, and I’m seeing the beginnings of a legitimate sense of humor. The fact that they haven’t sent him home yet for biting or throwing scissors is proof that I didn’t create a social deviant. I deserve a break, even in a house once again perfumed by the scent of moldering diapers and sour milk.
Sadie was born four weeks early. It’s tempting to say this was perfect timing because of the overlap with Carter’s school, but I was holding out hope that she would stay in the oven to full-term so I could have a month of being truly, completely unemployed. The Interregnum, I was going to call it, a summer’s end between rulers where I answered to no one (between the hours of 9:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m., that is). Hopefully, it wouldn’t end with my head on a stick like Oliver Cromwell, a distinct possibility since I’d basically be sponging off a fully-pregnant lady. But the promise of lounging on the patio for hours with a book, or riding my bike to the lakefront at a moment’s notice, if only for a few weeks, was intoxicating.
The best laid plans land in a diaper pail, of course. It’s probably for the best; I don’t do well with boredom anyway. My impatience for Sadie to get here so we could move on with our new, all-American, two-kids-plus-dog family far outstripped my hopes of goofing off for a month. And I didn’t forget that in spite of losing a little sleep, the first few months with a newborn are surprisingly easy. She’s basically an adorable, animated plant that we water and clean every few hours, and with enough coffee, even the groggiest parent can manage that. It’s a deceiving honeymoon after the anxiety of pregnancy, the same feeling that tricked me into thinking I could lead a triple-life as a full-time parent, realtor, and writer after Carter was born.
I know better this time though, and before long, Sadie will discover that her voice is good for entertainment as well as asking for food, that crawling is a much more efficient way to get around than waiting for me to pick her up, and that power cords sure look tasty. But until then, I can still have my vacation, just with a little company. That’s almost 900 words so far, with the new love of my life sleeping on the couch beside me.
