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In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.

In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.

To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Nat Geo-mboree Wild

Saturdays are for Gymboree.  Gymboree, for those of you unacquainted with the rituals of the city parent, are indoor playgrounds where you get the privilege of paying a country-club type fee in order to get out of the house with your children and not fear little Tommy or Susie learning the new word "glock."  You will undoubtedly hear plenty of Gymboree stories, should you choose to bear with me on this parenthood project.  Today's thoughts are regarding the National Geographic special that should be made about those wild animals that freely roam the halls.  Seriously--it would make a great documentary to examine the different species of beasts that attend every weekend.  I am, of course, talking about Gymboree Parents.

At Gymboree there are all manner of stereotypical parents who attend.  Below I go into the specific creatures that I have found in my extensive, two-weeks of study.  Watching the parents is, in a word, fascinating.  They cautiously circle one another, trying to determine whether each is friend or foe.  They mentally beat their chests to show their ferocity--"Did you know little Banjo was walking at six weeks?"  And, sadly, they sing their animal songs at the direction of a 20 year old Gymboree leader which is painful.  So what types of creatures do we see in the wilds of Gymboree?  We see:
  • The single working parent.  This creature (me) wanders after its child in a constant state of guilt.  Is he having fun?  I was at work longer this week--is he taking it out on that little boy he just closelined on the way to the slide?  Did he just stare that that daddy with a sense of longing?  Oh, God, maybe I should cultivate a five o'clock shadow so that he doesn't feel like he's missing anything....
  • The solo dad.  This species tends to come in one of two types.  The first is the wholly present dad.  A timid creature, this animal is particularly terrified of the other parents.  Responding to all friendly overtures with mere smiles, this dad tends to stick close to his offspring.  When he does speak in the wild, he voices his concern for Timmy's development.  Is he as advanced as the other kids?  Is he as smart?  As cute?  The wholly present dad is a friendly creature, but don't get too close.  He's not one to be seen for extended periods in the wild. 
  • The second type is the cell phone talker dad.  This guy is the stuff of legends and sadly can be seen throughout playgrounds across the US.  The cell phone talker dad ignores the giant "no cell phones" signs because--you guessed it--he's too important for those to apply to him.  Permanently attached to his leg is a child--typically the same one your little angel felt the need to tackle due to his rather abrasive personality (cell dad's kid--not yours, of course).  Cell dad and his kid are both of the more well-known variety of creature and sadly your child and you will come across them frequently in your lives.  Especially if one or both of you is a lawyer.
  • Then there is the lesbian couple.  These creatures travel in pairs and one or both can always be seen with a camera.  Typically keeping to themselves, the lesbian couple species tends to have the child or children with the most interesting names. 
  • Next comes the couple who clearly hate one another.  On the whole, this pack is generally rather varied.  The female of the duo is frequently pretty, clad in a designer sweatsuit, and her claws are well-manicured.  The male frequently ranges from rather toolish to foolish in appearance.  Really, the only way to spot this particular twosome is to watch how they interact in the wild--both clearly wanting to be somewhere else, with someone else, and both making up for this fact by trying to get the child to love him or her more.  I highly recommend that, upon spotting the couple who clearly hate one another, you sit for a while and observe.  Hours of entertainment and self-gratification come from the exercise.
  • Finally is the perfectly nice and unnaturally beautiful, bi-racial couple.  This couple can be seen toting infants and toddlers who can only be described as stunning.  While possibly intimidating at first, this couple is generally happy looking in the wild and is an excellent choice for friend when you find yourself alone in the jungle.  At a minimum, when you are seated next to them in the lesbian couple's photos, at least you know you look good.
And there, dear readers, is your quick guide to the National Geo-mboree animal planet.  Until next episode, watch for fangs, tread lightly through the untamed wild, and at all costs try to enjoy the safari.  If for no other reason than the kid does.

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