Linda and I went out to dinner with some friends tonight. As we were heading out the door, Linda grabbed Violet’s green giraffe, a stuffed animal that has become our go-to toy. Violet gnaws on the giraffe’s ears, nose, face, or whatever part is nearest her mouth. Linda commented, “I never thought I’d be carrying this kind of thing in my purse.” On the way to the restaurant, Linda wondered aloud, “Is it wrong to hope that we’re the only ones there?” (It turns out that we were.) And while we were eating dinner and talking with our friends, Violet became fussy. We told our friends about what we’d hoped on our way there, and they felt that if someone else had been at the restaurant, Violet’s crying wouldn’t have been a big deal. But Linda and I had to admit, if we were the “other people” we would’ve been whispering to each other, “Why couldn’t those people have gotten a sitter?” It’s an interesting perspective. We’re on the other side, but we can still remember what it was like to be those people – the ones without the car seat and the diaper bag. I don’t miss it. Linda doesn’t, either, but I wonder if we’ll eventually forget what it was really like - being childless, or if it’s like losing a limb; even though it’s gone, sometimes it still itches.
97 days old