Diaries from Women, Part 2

This Day in the Life
by Joni B. Cole, Rebecca Joffrey, B.K. Rakhra

(Page 2 of 2)

11:06 a.m. Going to the beach carries a different meaning when you have kids. There's no reading, no dozing, no idle sunbathing. It's busy. The baby wakes up. She is in a cute bathing suit that matches Mallory's. I vowed I would never buy my children matching suits, and I didn't. My mother did. Like buying a minivan, I felt like matching outfits of any kind on my children was admitting I'm no longer cool. The truth is, at thirty-eight with two kids I'm not cool, probably never was, and the suits are damn cute. Of course, the baby has peed through her swim diaper and totally soaked the suit. I dig into my bag and change her into a white onesie with a snap missing in the crotch. Within minutes she is rolling in wet sand and is soaked again. I feed her raisins and goldfish. She picks up the ones that drop with her sandy hands before the seagulls can get to them. I turn my head. I'm a lot more laid back about parenting the second time around.

11:17 a.m. Mallory sees some girls she would like to play with and quickly ditches Daniel. After negotiating with their leader (the big sister), she grabs a shovel and begins to dig with them, leaving Daniel to sit at a distance and stare at his feet. I call her over and quietly explain she must include her old friend with her new friends. There are so many things I want to teach my daughter, and compassion is very high on the list. I remember how mean kids can be, the sting of rejection, real or perceived.

11:47 a.m. My dad calls on the cell phone. The reception is awful. We keep yelling at each other. "Can you hear me NOW?" After several disconnected calls, we can finally hear each other if I stand in one position and don't move my head from a slight tilt to the east. My parents are divorced; we are spending the next week with my dad. He is calling to tell me he has bought me a case of Dr Pepper and wants to know the girls' shoe sizes so he can buy them flip-flops. Seems trivial, but with my dad the love is in the details.

12:00 p.m. The problem with bringing a baby to the beach is that she must nap not long after you have made the BIG effort to get there. Neither of my children has ever napped on the beach. My mother stays with Mallory, and I take Chloe back for a bath. She has sand in every nook and cranny of her pudgy little body. I wash her, nuzzling her soapy wisps of blond hair as she bores her tired head into my shoulder. She is a cuddly baby; it's one of the things I love about her. Mallory doesn't give or seek such affection easily. But when she does give it, it makes me feel like maybe I'm doing something right.

1:00 p.m. Against my will, my mom hires a babysitter for the afternoons to sit at the house while Chloe naps. This frees her up to do whatever, and it frees me up to do something with Mallory. It is a good idea, as are most of my mother's ideas, but I feel guilty, for what I'm not sure. Mallory and I meander our way back to the beach, ducking into little stores like girlfriends with nothing but time on our hands. I buy myself a sash, one that I will probably never wear because I've seen it on too many teenagers. I buy Mallory a dusty shell necklace, one that I'm sure has been in the shop storeroom since I was a little girl. We run into Daniel at an outdoor lunch place. He tells Mallory he is getting a big shovel. Suddenly, I am shelling out $3.17 for her big shovel.

2:45 p.m. Mallory and Daniel are playing near the water as I sit under the umbrella. I want to give her space and independence, or at least the perception of independence, but I am terrified of her drowning. Mallory is a risk-taker, plus when she was a baby she got bacterial meningitis and almost died. I try not to be overprotective, but I know what it feels like to almost lose her, and I never want to feel that again.

3:00 p.m. Mallory is now playing with two girls she calls "the six-year-old twins." I realize that Daniel has once again been banished from the play, not intentionally, but when the cartwheels begin, he falls back. This time I don't intervene. Maybe this is the age when boys and girls begin to part ways. Mallory is tough and energetic, but she is also a girl; a cheerleader, a dancer, a wannabe rock star. I realize as I watch her with other children that I will have a big role as navigator in her life, if she lets me. It seems like a daunting responsibility.

3:20 p.m. The twins' father comes over to say hello. We have exchanged polite smiles this week, but have not yet met. He is clearly either a divorced parent or a widower. He is alone with his three girls. At first we make pleasant conversation, and then I realize he's wondering whether or not I am single. I am at once flattered and uncomfortable. I tell him I have a baby. The conversation ends quickly.

5:37 p.m. We're trying to get ready for dinner. Chloe is whining, eating toilet paper, digging in the trash, pulling out the night-light, and putting her finger in the socket. To keep her amused we play peekaboo with the shower curtain as water sprays all over the bathroom floor.

6:05 p.m. We're ready to leave for dinner. Chloe cries unless I hold her. Mallory is asleep on the couch. I try to wake her and she moans and curls up in a ball. Alternately, I carry both of them, crying, to the jogger.

6:15 p.m. Mallory refuses to eat. She drinks chocolate milk and runs around the courtyard of the restaurant with two kids she knows from the beach. Chloe is happy as long as she has pasta to throw on the floor. The small Italian restaurant has no liquor license. My mom goes around the corner to the liquor store to get a much-needed bottle of wine. When we finish the meal, we clean out Mallory's plastic milk cup and fill it with the rest of the wine. We drink it through a straw as we shop.

7:30 p.m. We take turns going in the stores and watching the baby. The take includes a pair of purple leopard-skin slides for Mallory, a red leather purse that looks like a bustier for my mom (chosen by Mallory), a white sweater with pearl buttons for Chloe (to replace the one that got moldy in the washer), and assorted toys for Mallory, including a magic wand. We are spent in more ways than one. At one point, I am waiting for my mom and Mallory to come out of a toy store, and I decide my butt can fit in the extra baby jogger seat. Chloe loves it and laughs uncontrollably. It's actually not that uncomfortable. I get a few looks, but I don't care. I can't believe this is the first time I've ever tried it.

9:00 p.m. We head home, put the kids to bed, and put on season six, part one of Sex and the City—a guilty pleasure like People magazine or coffee ice cream with sprinkles. When you spend so much time analyzing everything to death, it's important to have a mindless release. This is mine.

11:30 p.m. I always plan to go to bed early. It never happens, life gets in the way. But that's okay. Another full day, another full night, likely to be followed by more of the same the next day. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Miscellaneous Moments

Flavor of the Week

10:50 a.m. Drive by Culver's Frozen Custard (yes, the very same place that also has Butter Burgers). I need to avoid this establishment like a bad virus, especially considering I'm headed to the Y. They post their Flavor of the Day on a board outside and, every day, I check it with apprehension because they just might have a flavor I can't resist. Today's feature is Raspberry Royale and I almost shout with joy in the car. This flavor does not intrigue me in the least.

Marilyn Weigel, 36, Grayslake, Illinois; book reviewer, Romantic Times Book Club Magazine

Porn

1:45 p.m. I hear some news on the piped-in stereo system, something about Iraq and then some other story about porn. I think of my mother. When I was away at prep school I took an ethics class. I had to debate this guy (whom I had such a crush on) that it was important to fund all art. The topic of Mapplethorpe and pornography came up. The night I prepared for the event I called home to get some help. My mom couldn't understand why I would not argue against pornography. It never occurred to her that I was assigned this position by my teacher. She thought that I really backed porn. To this day, she still believes this and tells people that I support pornography.

Laurie Ballentine, 29, New York, New York; jewelry sales associate

Helmwige

11:30 p.m. I put Gabriel into bed. Ah, finally a quiet house. I go into my music studio, pull out The Ride of the Valkyries, and sing out my part, the role of Helmwige. I have to watch out not to sing too heavily, especially in the high range. Besides that, nothing is very hard except those tricky entrances. I put on the recording, fast-forwarding the orchestral sections, which are so heavy they almost make me laugh. It will be some work to memorize the German, but it will be worth the effort. Midnight comes and I am deep into finding the higher meaning of the Valkyries' dialogue about their horses.

Copyright © 2005 by Joni B. Cole. Excerpted by permission of Three Rivers Press, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

Joni B. Cole is a freelance writer/editor and mom, often at the same time.

Rebecca Joffrey is an executive with two children.

B. K. Rakhra writes fiction and is testing her theory that no kids + no husband = eternal youth.