The problem of the baby

Shawn, Reilly, and I spent last weekend in Florida, warming our bones. The City has cold temperatures for six months per year (October through March), and here on the sixth and last month, Shawn and I were beginning to wear a little thin. Reilly, for her part, soldiers on through the cold, but that is only because she is too young to remember that warm July day that she was born on. That amnesia affects us adults too—after awhile in The City, one forgets that it can actually be warm, and one begins to despair that it will never be warm again.

Warming our bones was really a secondary reason for flying down home. The primary reason for our trip to Tampa was because Shawn has a conference in Orlando through the week, so to attach a long weekend so that we could see our friends and family was no problem. And see our friends and family we did. On Sunday, we had a picnic out at Millennium Park on a nice spring day—not a cloud in the sky—warm in the sun, cool in the shade.

It was fascinating to look at all of our friends at the picnic with their kids in tow and to fully realize that our demographic as a group has begun to change. As my good friend Aaron said, “Wow. You don’t see people for a couple of years, and all of a sudden there are kids all over the place.” It was a strange moment, because for the first time, I really felt like a parent. I mean, I know that Reilly is my daughter, and I am her dad, but standing out there on the grass, I saw that I now belonged to a new subset within the larger group.

On Monday, Shawn, Donna, Reilly and I packed up the Lincoln and drove off toward the airport. We fought a little traffic over the Howard Franklin Bridge, but arrived at TIA with plenty of time to drop me off. Yes, just me. The problem that Shawn and I encountered with this trip was with who would take Reilly. Would I take her, or would Shawn? Since Shawn is still breastfeeding, it made sense that she would take our baby girl, but then who would watch the baby when Shawn was in her conference meetings? The solution came in the form of Grandma Donna, who offered to nanny Reilly during the meetings. (I did explain to her that she was technically not a “nanny” in that nannies receive money in exchange for their services.)

Reader, I know you’re wondering if I miss them, and the simple answer is that I do. True, it is freeing to be alone, to worry only about myself, and to have complete control of my movements through my day. However, these small things pale in comparison to the absence that surrounds me. I miss my wife, my one true comfort in life. I miss Reilly’s smiling face (always smiling!). I miss the sounds of my little baby growing up, growling in her den. The house is quiet, and yes, I am lonely.