Untethered Typings

I'm standing at the top of the stairs leading to my basement and I'm busy. I'm holding my three month old. I'm holding a glass of wine. I'm preparing to descend. I'm yelling - maybe screaming actually. Nothing intelligible, just making noise. I know this is not the right thing to do as a parent - the screaming. I know this does nothing to alleviate the inherent negativity of the situation, but I do it anyway. I'm watching my two and a half year old roll, or maybe bounce, down the wooden stairs about to reach the ceramic tile landing (this started at the second stair from the top). I'm wondering how she will land. I'm hoping she will not land on her head or with a limb in a position that will bring her severe pain and make me want to vomit. I suppose that could sound like a dream. A terrible dream where you're inexplicably helpless. Except that it's not a dream. It's what happened at my house tonight. I couldn't just drop my...

Recently there was a birthday party for a friend of mine. In discussing the upcoming party, another friend remarked, "I think it's going to be a pretty big party. Like, there's even going to be some adults there." Laughter from me, for two reasons. First of all, the party was to celebrate a 30th birthday. Not a third or thirteenth or even a 23rd birthday. If there weren't going to be adults at the party, I would have started to worry. Second, the guy who made the statement is almost 30 (it's true, don't deny it my dear). He is recently married. He has a mortgage. He has owned his own business for years. He is incredibly successful and one of the hardest working people I know. And yet, clearly, he does not consider himself an adult. Maybe if you sat down and had a chat about it he would, at the end, admit he is adultish. But it seems, in general, that he doesn't consider himself to be a fully realized adult. It's not that I think my fr...