Every morning, I stand by the door and someone announces “Baba qu shang ban” [baba is going to work] depending on who says it first. Sometimes it’s me when you’re in the middle of a breastfeed, sometimes it’s you when you spot me grabbing my coffee, and sometimes it’s your mom when she’s fed up with me for whatever reason.
As I embark on my thirty-second commute to the office (two floors below), sometimes I’ll hear a distressed “baba” soundtrack on repeat and other times nothings. It all fades away as soon as I turn the corner of the hallway and turn my attention to
work vacation: adult conversations, no diapers, and hot coffee.
As nice as that is, there is a price to pay and it is steeper than anything I’ve purchased in my life to date (nb. I haven’t bought a house yet). I end up missing out on a lot of experiences that light up your eyes.
Just this past week, your mother stood at the corner of an intersection jabbing away at her phone as grey storm clouds raced across the skies:
He wanted to leave class
But I haven’t paid so I have to ha bf around this cohnitu part
But he won’t eat even tho he say he hungry
And I didn’t get hanger to find place around here to eat
:/ sorry to hear
Forgot water too
Our kid lies
Doesn’t even want food
Not cheeky it’s bad
Nothing is ipen here
I stepped into a work meeting and came out thirty minutes later to see this on my phone:
Your first McDonald’s Happy Meal! I can only separate all the feelings running through me in hindsight because of the rush of my own warm childhood memories flooding into my brain (Happy Meals were how my parents took treated us growing up). I was jealous of your mom, excited for you, nostalgic for me.
In any case, it is probably better I wasn’t there to see this because if I saw you smile sitting in a chair similar to the one I remember sitting in twenty five years ago while nibbling at a McDonald’s french fry, my heart would have melted onto the floor.