Ugh. That awkward moment of running to the store in a swift frenzy of waddling post-partum action, desperate to buy a few groceries while my Mom has two of the kids. The baby starts screaming as we walk through the automatically opening doors – just as I realize the store has been completely re-arranged, the coffee is not on Aisle 11 anymore!! My milk comes in with startling ferocity and lo! I’m leaking. Right then and there and I still don’t know where the damn coffee is.
Oh yeah. I’m getting moments like this. Lots of ’em! I have no clue how these moms of 6, 7, 8 do it. I have no clue how other moms of 3 do it. I have no clue how I thought I could handle this, I’m so swimming with my head barely above the water now.
So let me talk about one bright moment – we went on over to the Sutro Baths in San Francisco.
This is the thing about Sutro: it is gorgeous.
The tourists know this, of course, so it’s usually packed with camera-toting Asians, Indians with their cardigans draped over their shoulders and healthy-looking Europeans. Locals don’t hang out there anymore.
Well, last Saturday Great-Grandpa’s Great-Great Grandchildren walked with the tourists on the walls that were once baths.
The ocean is fierce over there. Big, huge waves. Signs saying clearly that you had BETTER WATCH OUT – in a multitude of languages – because big waves have been known to snatch people and swiftly drown them.
I know these stories. I heard them often as a small child – Meriah, you’d BETTER WATCH OUT because those waves can sneak up and GET YOU. Just like The Blob.
I wanted to plunk myself down and spend hours counting waves.
Not that I did; you really can’t do that sort of thing anymore when you have three little kids. At least, I don’t know how to do that sort of thing yet.
Maybe someday though.
In the meantime, I’m just thrilled we were able to get out. Sometimes that’s all I can hope for right now.