Every Party Should Have a Rebecca

We went to a party today where I didn't know anyone. It was a work party for Barry, and there were kids there, so we all went.

There were only four other families there. Everyone seemed to be very Hollywood. Lots of big floppy black hats. I thought one woman had actually come in twice because she had the same hat and blond hair as the woman who came in before her. It was all very Angelina Jolie. And the kids had so much un-rubbed in sunblock on their faces it looked like clown school.

But you know when you're sitting with people and trying to get to know them and it's like an awkward first date and there's no chemistry really, we're all just waiting to get the food and get out of there, or maybe that's just me, with everything in life, but I think I keep looking for the big, maternal loving creature, who exudes "relaxed", whose lap I can I crawl into, if only figuratively, and sigh. There are only a few people like that - my friend Rebecca. I think I'm always looking for her at parties. Hoping for a Rebecca. She's funny, has a calm edge, a nurturing spirit. She doesn't try to have these things, she just IS these things, and they fit her so well. So when you meet her, it's like eating a Rolaids, you just kick back and say ohthankgod. You're here.

So this party really needed a Rebecca. Rebeccas are a quiet people, you would never notice your party didn't have one until you've had one at a party and then you have to go to a party Rebeccaless. Then alas you feel the hole.

So we made conversation, we waited for food (what is it with people who don't serve food immediately?? Don't they know how HUNGRY I am??) (Why am I HUNGRY??) And then the food they offered, for children under 11 - tomatoes with cheese on them (yes, all children love tomatoes), brussel sprouts (I'm not kidding), and spinach salad. So my kids stared up at me like God hated them. They waited for hamburgers. Lilly ate literally nothing. Came home and had to make her egg on toast pronto. I don't like coming home from a party to cook. (Um, I don't like to cook at all.) But especially not after a party - when you go to a party, you endure making smalltalk because someone else is going to feed you, so you don't have to do it later. So this sort of blew my whole someone-else-is-doing-all-the-work vibe I had planned out.

Kids are beautiful though. Playing duck duck goose in the setting sun on a hillside with other kids, in their tan bodies and bathing suits by the pool, one of the last days of summer... I just miss them, and I'm here, with them.

Put Lilly to bed and she asked why Santa gives stuff to kids. "Does he have a lot of junk and he wants to give it out to kids?" I said he likes to give presents out to boys and girls if they try to be good all year. She says "Does Luke know to be good??" She was protecting Luke - she wanted him to get his presents.

Then when she's sleeping I look at her little face and her head and think about how tiny she was, and how I rush around all the time and never have the long stretches of time I had when Nathan was a baby. I think about how we get such a short time on Earth and it isn't fair because I love all the babies, and I want to see Lilly's babies, and even that's not going to be enough because once you've opened your heart to babies, just ain't nothing that fills you up, you just get bigger and wantier. Because it feels so good. And they're so so deep and weighty in you, like wading through stars all the time. My own starfield.

So I only complain about the tomatoes and the big floppy hats and the Hollywood people because I don't understand them, I know they're doing their best. I just don't shop at the mall, I hang out with a big fat horse and chickens to de-stress. Because at that party not any of those people seemed to fall over faint with love for their babies - they were organic, high-end, clean people, and all I wanted was a big lovey Rebecca, stumbling through life with a laugh, where our kids are fireworks at the end of the day, because THAT I understand.