In grad school, if someone really liked a story, they’d smile to themselves and would say with great reverence, “It’s like jazz” — which to be honest, always made me throw up in my mouth a little. What does that even mean? That that particular work for fiction was random with no recognizable melody? (“Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin earned this compliment a lot, and that novella had an actual jazz player in it — double ka-pow! The last phrase — “the very cup of trembling” — still baffles me. Totally over my head.)
As much as I’ve made fun of that turn of phrase, I think I get it, but I’m applying it to CSI Baby. There are all these rules and experts who dole out information, but once you have the kid, you still kind of have to make it up as you go along. So we’re learning, and once we learn one thing about Sasquatch, we have to ditch it, because he’s changing. He keeps changing!
Luckily, Husband is a Diaper and Swaddle Ninja (no surprise there. He’s quite fastidious. When he makes our bed, you can bounce a quarter off the sheets. When I make our bed, it looks like I made it with my feet…which is what I sometimes do) and as equal a partner as you can have. (It can’t be equal, because it’s all on the girl, people.) Last night, Husband said “After your massage, don’t rush home. Why don’t you go to Starbuck’s and write for a while? I’ll stay home with the baby and do laundry.”
Um, I think that’s totally a line from Porn for New Moms, am I right?