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I took Tin and Loca around the bayou this morning and we ran into my doctor who lives across the way – she said she had been seeing the stroller and thought we had finally adopted. She said there is nothing like it and she’s right. Then I went to do yoga and came back to do all the things Saturday beckons – put on a big pot of red beans, baked some of the last of the butternut squash, used the left over cut up onions to make some wild rice, vacuumed the floor, wash the clothes, fold and unload the dishwasher, load it, take the plants out – water them, all this with Tin in my pouch. Then we had lunch and then I put him down for his nap.

Only there was no nap – there was just restless blabbing and I read a chapter in the book on one year old and beyond, about how to do with the fact that they are fighting to become independent but are still very dependent so everything is a challenge from changing diapers to putting on clothes to naps to whatnot. And that’s where we are – he is cutting a tooth and the drooling floodgates are drawn and the irritation he has right now is tantamount to my having pulled his tooth through his gums myself.

Now I need a nap.

Several of the yogis from around the city gathered together under the large oak tree by the big lake to do 108 sun salutations and raise money and awareness about human trafficking in India. They said that India had given us yoga and that they wanted to give something back. It was a gorgeous day, albeit windy and the chimes clanging and the body were moving, and everyone had a smile on their face. Good way to start the day.

There is one of those stereotype jokes that goes why do Jews have big noses and the answer, ba rum bum, is the air is free. Similarly, I was reading this book T got me called Lazarus and it is a Bosnian author who writes about how when he gets together with his immigrant Bosnian friends they always talk about how Americans are crazy the way they go outside with wet hair or open the windows and let the draft come in – all which cause brain damage. Similarly, I was speaking to a friend who was saying how nice it is right now with the windows open and she said she doesn’t understand how the Italians chop their necks complaining of drafts or how the French have parties with everyone smoking and the window is barely cracked.

Nature and nurture.

Wow, what a week, it seems like we are living in paradise around these parts with weather that has been incomparable, and everyone’s smiley spring faces looking so bright. City Park has put up signs forbidding fishing again so they can prepare for the end of the month’s fishing rodeo – that is why the birds look happy. There are more dog walkers out and about on the bayou these past few days. A neighbor asked if I would write an article on our neighborhood for a publication and I found out he too adopted a child (maybe I knew this before but now it is more meaningful), he said “I know how wonderful the world becomes when you have the privilege of parenthood” – now that’s what I’m talking about.

As I contemplate being in the east coast next week with the brrrrr temperatures while my beloved city regales in the wonder of spring, and I get my first dose of being away from Tin, I think to myself enjoy right now as much as possible.

Nothing beats a mother that’s for sure when it comes to childcare. The U.S. is woefully behind when it comes to taking care of infants to toddlers and mothers who work have no choices but to put their children in institutionalized daycare. Rough. That’s not to say they are so bad, but I can’t help but equate what daycare to nursing homes and the difference in caring for your parent or your child yourself is enormous.

My mail carrier said her great aunt takes care of her 17 month old son, she’s from Honduras and feeds him breakfast lunch and dinner that she prepares herself.

We figured out a game plan for the near term, the nanny’s hours are reduced by 10 hours a week and T is picking up more hours in the morning. This at least keeps us at status quo without making us bankrupt or having to send him out of the house for daycare.

Next.

If I could I would be a stay at home mother for Tin’s first three years. But I can’t. So in the meantime, trying to figure out how to juggle the expense of a nanny versus the lower cost of daycare is enough to make me want to walk off the planet. We went to look at a school today, one of the best in the city, and I had such a visceral reaction that was like AHHHHHHHH.

Note to universe – improve daycare. Good grief.

We took Tin to see Zachary Richard at the Ogden because I mistakenly believed it was going to be some good cajun dancing music but the exhibit on the 5th floor was worth the trip – Bo Bartlett – enormous realism paintings. Then we walked over to the Butcher behind Cochon and had sandwiches and Tin was a champ with his pizzeta and sippy cup of milk. It was such a good idea for the Ogden to come up with these after hour shows, because it really calls attention to this museum and definitely packs in a crowd.

A lot of the primo yogis in the city are going to converge at the big oak tree in City Park this Saturday to do 108 sun salutations to bring awareness to human trafficking in India. It’s from 10-12 so bring your mats and come on over.

In yoga today, in some impossible twist to the right where my thighs screamed “tight tight tight” I glanced up to see that my neighbor yogi was wearing fur underwear. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but you know it is like 78 degrees and 150 percent humidity today.

The humidity is so thick you could trace it on the windows, feel it on your skin, and smell it in the air – welcome to New Orleans. We went from “Damn it’s cold,” to “Can you believe how warm it is?” in the blink of an eye. At least, as I keep telling everyone, it’s something new to complain about.

I was walking around the still lagoon this morning after having an episode with Loca where a dog taunted her from across the street and she became super psycho dog. It was a no win situation. So I stood there in the midst of traffic and thought about something that had happened the afternoon before.

We were going for an afternoon family walk and ran into a neighbor who used the “N” word. We were so shocked, we just stood there speechless. Minutes before the same person had been speaking about whiny Jews, but that did not even get a bristle out of me. We walked away and I told T that if that happened again I would say or do something, but I had been so stunned that I couldn’t even respond.

Now standing on the streetcar tracks I thought about the Langston Hughes’ poem My People and the beautiful book someone gave Tin that has one after another of gorgeous black and white photos of African American people of all ages and how he LOVES that book and loves to touch the lips, eyes, and hands on the pages.

I thought about going to buy my first house in Bucktown in 1983 where the owner said, “As long as you are not black or a Jew, I”ll sell it to you. Har har.”

Then I thought about the moisture in the air and how it is bringing out the curl in my and Tin’s hair, it reminded me of my mom’s almost nappy and abundant hair.

I thought to myself as Loca and I were finally able to get across Carrollton how life is all about change, and humans are constantly evolving, and that sometimes, some people get stuck on their path with a language that has no meaning, with ideas that have no brilliance, with eyes that no longer see.

Meanwhile, Tin and I have curly hair today just like my mom and we miss her today as we do everyday. I thought about Loretta Lynn’s song, “Why is that old drunk still living, when a daddy like mine is dying…”