the age of innocence

One day this week, Mike went in early to work so as to be able to come home and spend a lunch with us. That morning I got the call: Flat tire on the way to work. Other tires looking bad. Can you meet me at Costco to get new ones put on and we’ll find lunch somewhere while that’s going on?

Costco? Me? The mother who is loathe to put her babe in the car, period? Who has panic attacks thinking about driving two miles to get, yes, a car seat check? "Do you really need me to bring the baby?" I’d asked. The woman chuckled, then, seeing I was serious, put her hand over mine for a moment and turned back to her computer. Costco has to be a good 20 minutes from my house. And the Costco parking lot outside their illustrious Tire Sales department on a hot day during the lunch hour was just the place I wanted to bring my precious infant…not!

Besides the obvious hazards, Isaac doesn’t like the car. He is not soothed by the motion, or the white noise of the traffic. He cries. I don’t do well when he cries. In a haphazard attempt to ease his car worries, I’ve bought him all kinds of toys that dangle in front of him – a mirror, a soft mobile of (you guessed it) safari animals, and other goodies. To top it off my radio is broken, so I have to improvise if I want to try to calm him with music. Bottom line? If you see a green Jetta weaving down the road driven by a woman sweating and singing "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" at top volume over the wailing from the three-month-old in the back who is wondering why his mommy isn’t coming to release him from his prison of a seat, but has left a poka-dotted lion in charge instead, get out of the way, it’s us, and we’re not having a good day.

The world has gotten just that much louder and dirtier, just that much more profane since I had a child. Why in the world would I want to subject my sweet, sweet baby boy to Costco? All that innocence. You can smell it. I think I’ve decided that must be why people keep having children. Why else would we continue to do this obscenely difficult thing? We’re addicted to the innocence.

Some weeks, my only accomplishment is bringing Isaac into public and making people smile. It’s his job at this point. (His job is also to bust those teeth the hell out o’ the gum line without completely making himself and his loved ones insane, but we’ll wait on that topic.) The other day we passed an old man we often pass, who always greets us pleasantly. He looked up at Isaac from his wheelchair and told me, "You can just feel the magic pouring from them, can’t you?!"

We couldn’t get the tires that day. The lunch rush and current sale made the line too long. But we’ll definitely get them soon. And one of these days, Isaac and his mom will get over their fear of the car. Once we have our new tires and new-found freedom we can cover more territory and take this show of beauty on the road.