We shift into a side stretch and I can hear Indigo telling Diana she is saving up all Gavin’s cloth diapers and baby clothes to lend her. And just like that, my fun girls’ night out has turned into a discussion of baby poop and strengthening neck muscles.
Considering I spent this entire day helping my mom work on sit-to-stands, I feel like I could chime in. While I’m happy for my mom that she’s mastered “nose over toes” like the physical therapist asked, I can’t say I feel fulfilled by holding her hand as she sat down and stood up from our kitchen chair. Over and over for hours.
My mood has turned sour and I feel myself sinking into a state of self pity. I really should walk out of the class and call up Larry or something, check in on my apartment that he’s probably turned into a sex dungeon. Can it be a dungeon when it’s the penthouse?
I almost miss the pivot in the conversation, where Indigo starts talking about how she and Sara are so intentional about caring for Gavin. “Sara is constantly checking in to make sure I’m not feeling smothered or touched out,” Indigo says as she starts pulling herself into a supported hand stand. She’s surprisingly strong, with great core strength, considering she just had a baby not too long ago.
Diana nods. “Asa knows damn well I’m not in this to be a solo parent. He’s probably going to be the one wearing the baby most of the time, let’s be honest.”
I’m sure my parents thought this way, too. But then a promotion came along for my dad that couldn’t be turned down, and poof! My mom’s job took the back burner.
“No thanks,” I say out loud and then I clap my hand over my mouth. I don’t want to insult my friends. They’re happy about their choices. I just know they are not the choices for me.