This weekend Ben took Isaac on a weaning vacation to NYC. It’s the first time I’ve been apart from the little dude since we brought him home from the hospital in October of 02. By “apart” of course I mean apart for more than, say, ten or twelve hours. We’ve never slept apart (yes, we sleep in separate rooms usually, but never in separate cities). But I had the sense that Isaac was ready for this. He’s been going around remarking on what a big boy he is all the time. And even, lately (perhaps as a consequence of my constant cheeful chatter about the joys of weaning, and my repeated readings of this book “Maggie’s Weaning” narrated by a sage three-year-old who’s seen it all) going around saying, “I’m all done nursing! I used to nurse but now I’m a BIG BOY and I don’t nurse anymore.” He said this to me the other day straight out. I said, “Yes! You really are big now and you don’t need to nurse anymore– and tonight when you go to sleep you can do it without nursing.” This comment caused him to then issue something of a clarification: “Well… I still nurse at bedtime.”
Okay. So. Two days and two nights with Daddy in NYC. Overall, it’s worked out pretty well. They’ve been having a great adventure together and apparently there’s been no talk of nursing and only a little talk of wanting to go home. The only hitch was the inevitable stomach flu, which now seems to be an NYC-trip tradition. Ben was hit with it in the wee hours of Friday morning. I followed suit later that day. God bless my friend Martha who appeared in knight-like fashion and wisked Isaac away on an outing all afternoon. … Caring for a young child is hard from a horizontal position. Sure, he tried to be nice because he could see that I was really incredibly ill. He would say, very sweetly, “Mama, you’re not feeling well. Can I help you Mama?” And then just when my guard was down his inner eel would emerge and he would see me suddenly as a complacent passing octopus and attack with all his claws and teeth and limbs.
At first it seemed to be one of those fast-but-cruel sorts of flus. And it was… except not all that fast. They left yesterday morning at the crack of dawn. Isaac didn’t get sick at all, and Ben managed to do a mind-over-matter and carry on boldly as he always does. After a short nap, I got up to start the day with enthusiasm, thinking it had been a 24-hour bug and I was now fine. I had SO many things on the “if I only had time” list. All the cleaning and sorting, the intensive long overdue dusting that our dottering old cleaning lady can’t see or reach or deal with. But after a few short minutes of it and a very ill-advised attempt to eat a sandwich (I was starving after my 24-hour purge and fast…) I soon found myself pinned to the couch as if by a great weight and watching hours and hours of mindless T.V. I wore a path to the bathroom and basically feared even a walk around the block with the doggy lest there be some hideous outcome.
It was a lost day entirely. I watched more about Britney and Kevin, more make-over shows (both home and fashion) more wild animal shows, more comedy, more endless news cycling than really I would ever have thought physically possible. Especially with so little previous training. I’m out of shape for a T.V. binge like that. But my head and my body hurt so miserably I couldn’t possibly read (let alone Faulkner, which I’m trying to read with Oprah). Even my HAIR hurt! (In fact my hair still sort of hurts for some reason.)
Anyway. Today I’m feeling much better and did in fact sort of put a dent in the cleaning situation. I took a stab at the buried desk and washed many a slip cover. I ate food cautiously — and so it turned out, with impunity. I’m well! But as the day wore on my breasts began to register the 36-hour non-nursing stint, which since I estimate Christmas of 02 has not happened before. What started out as a dull hint of trouble began to blossom. They started to really… shall we say… throb? Ache? Experience little jolts of shooting pain, especially when an errant thought of Isaac would cross my mind…? So I took the step of walking down to the store and buying some cabbage, a well-known and documented folk remedy for excessive milk production. Something about those cool leathery leaves… I don’t know if it’s the texture or whether they sort of off-gas some chemical, or both. But it’s a fact recognized by many… it really helps. (Simply pack leaves in bra until they get too warm. Then replace with new leaves from the fridge. And enjoy!)
Then as the heat around here became insufferable and the cleaning was getting a little irritating, I decided to take a break and go see a film. Well, not a FILM. A movie. My choice, the Wedding Crashers, starring Owen Wilson. I could go on about my secret love for Owen Wilson, for his broken nose and perfectly tousled beach bum hair, for his strangely articulate style of speech, eye crinkles and six pack. I could go on all day. But I won’t. Suffice it to say that despite the fact that he can’t technically ACT– he plays the exact same person every time (which I have to assume is himself in real life), whether he’s supposed to be a cowboy in the wild west or a suburbanite teen trying to learn to heist jewels, his timing, his accent, even his word choices are IDENTICAL– he’s sublime. I’m in love with him and I find it all very endearing.
My friend Nina once described “The Nutty Professor” starring Eddie Murphy thus: she said, making this explosive gesture with her fingertips and outstretched arms, “It was MAGNIFICENT!!” I’ll use the same term for the Wedding Crashers: magnificent. Every one of the 119 minutes of running time was sheer bliss. It’s the acme of the summer romantic comedy genre. I sat there in the chilly air-conditioned dark, my aching breasts packed in cabbage, watching Owen Wilson on the big screen performing his signature stammering and yet graceful verbal ballet, and I thought, “Now THIS is a true vacation!”
Tomorrow dad and lad return. I’ve missed them but it’s been good. I’ve scheduled a weaning party for Isaac for next Saturday– and invited people, so now it’s real. I’ve bought him a couple construction-themed new cups and a complete Caillou place setting. We’re going to have kids over, decorate cups, eat weenies, frost cupcakes, and generally celebrate his passage into the non-nursing community.
Wish us luck.