This past weekend I felt very much like a slow learner. It seems that babies, crowds, and even the best-laid plans just do not mix. Perhaps one day I will button down and accept these immutable laws. I had thought we were doing rather well, we NEVER leave the house after 6pm these days, and plan to be well on our way home by 7pm if we are out in the late afternoon. Kazuo is always heading for bed at 8pm. The last time I went out in the evening with Akira was in March – we take turns having nights out doing social/active things so that Kazuo always has a familiar face around him in the evenings as he has entered the separation anxiety phase. This is a lifestyle of choice, to make things happy for all of us.
But summer (which is still eeking out the last of its fine weather, even though the cool early morning and dim late afternoons and falling leaves are casting an Autumnal glow about) has thrown up far too many tempting events and every so often my resolve has weakend and I have tried to fight against the laws of baby-raising and participate in mass festivity.
This weekend was a case in point. Friends invited us to join them at the Balloon Glow in Forest Park. Here we are last year after our bike ride:
we got there late, so many balloons had already deflated, but it was magical and I was looking forward to being there for the early evening and watching the balloons inflate and light up. We decided to accommodate the kids (there was another toddler in the party) and picnic at 5.30pm. I had imagined all the worst that could happen and thought I had it sussed – I was really excited. FOOL!
Foiled By: Kazuo cutting teeth and sleeping until 4.45pm (when I had planned we would leave), the police closing off the road to the carpark I had planned to use because it was close to our destination, having to walk 20min to the balloons from the inconvenient park I found after driving around in the crowded park for 20min, discovering half of St Louis had already arrived and it would take half an hour to traverse the field and find our friends so we abandoned the party and the balloons, not working out how to attach the bike rack to the car in advance so Akira had to ride home in the dark without lights and I had to drive a screaming-tiredy-scared-of-the-dark baby home alone.
Here is a pic of my two men at the Muny Carpark where we finally paused to have the felafel picnic I had lovingly spent the day preparing – proof that we were out late, and that up until then at least, Kazuo was having a jolly little time (he really only needs us and the outdoors for that it seems, so we could have had as much fun just eating dinner in our front yard!):
It was NOT a picnic. I do hope that I’ll soon manage to feel part of the wider community without having to put Kazuo through such ordeals… I am still musing on how to attend some of the amazing events at the Dancing in the Street festival this weekend without causing any grief… I think last night when I mentioned this Akira thought I still hadn’t learned my lesson. Slow indeed…