Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes

“Are they twins?” A pair of middle aged ladies asks as I push the double Bob into Bebe Lapin. 

Eye Candy. Tops with applicate bunnies, elephants, sail boats, matching pants with red and white stripes, wood embossed blocks. Fiona’s first baby doll. 

  

“I have a grandson, he’s three years old. He’s 48″ tall!” One of the ladies I first ran into says. I am distracted  by all the cute things in the store. 

“Wow” I say. ” Is he wild still? These two are crazy now.” 

“No, he’s good. He loves to read.” She says. 

“Oh, that’s cool!” I say. 

I give Fiona her doll, Jack a wooden block. 

“We said we weren’t going to spoil them.” I say to a family that is watching the pure Joy on Jack and Fiona’s faces. A young girl,maybe their   daughter home from college laughs and says, “thats what all parents say.” She’s really sweet, I wonder if she’s a nanny. I can imagine her being some little kids favorite person. 

I get behind the stroller, ready to push it out, the lady with the three year old grandson approaches  me once more. 

Tears well in her eyes as she begins to tell me the rest of her story. There’s a faint smudge of eyeliner on the lower eyelid, she has curly short hair and earrings. Her breath is lacking the smell people who start telling you thier story sometimes have. 

“My grandson is a savant, since he was two years old he can read any book outloud.”

“Wow” I say. 

” He’s on the spectrum” she says. ” At two he stopped calling me Nanna. It was heartbreaking. He had a puzzle of numbers, the 8 was missing. He got so upset, he wouldn’t relax. I had to turn the house upside down to find the 8. ” 

“Wow, my daughter has hearing loss.” I say, not knowing exactly what to say. Thinking just about behavior and communication, maybe there is some shared experience between us. 

She doesn’t hear what I say and goes on, 

“We caught it very early, he has therapy twice a week. His mom works really hard with him. It’s really tough for everyone.” She says. Her eyes continue to fill with tears. Red streaks begin to appear, or maybe I’m just noticing them now.  

“I’ll be outside.” She tells her friend. 

I walk out too, Alan follows me out. 

“Bye” I say.

“Have fun with those babies. They are beautiful. ” she says. 

  
The babies wake up like hound dogs chasing a racoon or like monkeys in a cage. 

I think our days of eating out will be coming to an end for awhile. 

I felt guilty as we walk into breakfast. Several two tops are enjoying a peaceful breakfast in front of the fireplace at Maccallum  House. 

Jack and Fiona are all wound up, it is later than the day before, almost nap time. 

They grab anything they can get their hands on, forks, knives, salt and pepper shakers. Alan and I have to work fast to clear the table. 

They will poke their eyes out if they get  something   sharpe. They screech and throw food. I keep apologizing to our  neighbors   who are very understanding. 

We knock over our mimosa, our bloody mary. 

I see dirty diapers scattered, the plastic bag ripped in front of our place when we get back. 

“I left my dirty diapers on the porch and I think an animal got to them.” I say to a man who looks like he’s part of this place. 

“Do you want to throw them in the trash?” He says.

“Yes, cool, thanks!” I say.

” Out of site, out of mind.” He says.

He is an older man with a crooked smile. He has a speech impediment. A deep scar sits under his left jaw bone. There are two red round scars on the concave scar. He’s holding paperwork. 

“How is your stay other than that?” 

” It’s amazing, the best place we’ve ever stayed.” I say.

” Make it your home away from home.” He says. 

I want to, I always want to. As I cross over the Mendocino County line  I  feel I Am home.  We belong here among the tree’s, birds, flowers, and great blue ocean. 

 

 

Babies are like cats. Introduce familiar smells, sounds, and tastes from home. Blankets, cheerios, meatloaf, milk, berries, shapes, puppy love, doggies, sleep sheep, purple unicorn, fresh ground coffee and my french press. 

Hello glamorous Mendocino light, lillies, sea breeze, and cypress trees. 

Breakfast at Mac callum House, feeling surreal, a memory appears:

Alan and I down by the bluff smoking a J. Just left Dicks, too many Scrimshaw too early in the day. Crying, laughing, cheeks rosy from the sunshine and beer. Cheek twitching from my internal fear. 

What are we gonna do now?

Only three embryos left in Cryofreeze. 

Can’t bear another egg retrieval, another surrogate search, don’t even know if I can go through the whole gut wrenching process, the two week wait, another disappointment. 

Wondering if Alan would rather just trade me in for a younger lady with fresh eggs and less craziness. Will he accept a childfree life? 

The four of us sit here in this historic wooden house, food thrown all over the floor, Jack and Fiona growing restless, I think Alans finally starting to learn how to power eat and keep Fiona from tossing her whole plate of food   on the floor.     

We are totally different people living totally different lives. From the romantic couple with time to ruminate or throw caution to the wind to a life that moves at a different pace. One that is both chaotic and unpredictable, scheduled and rhythmic.