When It Used To Be Easy

It used to be so easy. Leaving the house was a piece of cake. It was a no brain-er.  It was everyday fare. I simply decided to go to the store or to a restaurant and I went. I got dressed, grabbed my purse and my keys, and headed out the door. I listened to music that brought me back to college days or dates with my husband. I sometimes drove in silence, in the sheer bliss of thinking uninterrupted thoughts. However, in 1984, that all changed. I had a baby, a beautiful baby girl that captured our hearts completely. Motherhood was so wonderful and so new. Being an only child, I had little experience with newborns and had to learn on the job.

My husband stayed home for the week after our daughter was born. There was no such thing as paternity leave back then. We figured out being new parents together. We were so in love with each other and our baby, but so terribly naive.  We figured out nighttime feedings and somehow functioned on lack of sleep. He enjoyed giving her a bottle, which gave me a chance to make dinner. We looked at this precious little girl and could not believe that she was ours. We felt mature and well equipped, even though we were only twenty-four years old.

When my husband went back to work, it was just my daughter and me each day. I was feeling good, though admittedly a bit tired. I knew that getting out of the house was vitally important. Fresh air and sunshine would be a benefit to both of us.  After a few weeks, I was ready to go in the car, on my own, with my baby. The car seat, primitive by today’s standards, was ready. The stroller was in the back. I grabbed my purse and my keys and started to go out the door.

I looked down at the little one in my arms with the full head of dark hair. I heard the unmistakable sound that meant a diaper change was needed. I went back inside, to the changing table, and changed her diaper and her outfit as well. Now, we were off.  I closed the door to the house and got her into her car seat. I sat in the drivers seat, key in hand, ready to start the car. The diaper bag! I would need extra diapers. Along with the diapers, I would need wipes. I couldn’t forget the diaper cream. I must bring a change of clothes, just in case. I needed some sort of small blanket to put her on if I had to change her diaper again.

What if she was hungry? Since I was not nursing, I needed a bottle.  I had to go back into the house to grab these necessities. I should get some extra tissues and bring a pacifier, even though she didn’t really like them. I should get a burping cloth, since there were those times when she spit up. I better get another shirt for me in case she spits up on me and not on the burping cloth. I better get some water for myself and perhaps a little snack. I should put a second bottle in the diaper bag, in case we stayed out longer than planned.

By this time, my little girl was sound asleep in the car seat. An entire half hour went by, but that was just fine, since we had nothing pressing to do. This was our first outing, leaving home, just the two of us. This was simply to show myself that I could do it on my own.  All the extra things were in the car and my daughter was still asleep. I got in the drivers seat and was ready to put my key into the ignition. My keys! Where were my keys? Where was my purse? I remembered I left them on the kitchen table while I gathered all the extra necessities. I had no spare key. I had to call my husband to come home and let me in the house. He came home about a half hour later and gave me a hug, as I collapsed in his arms.

“It used to be so easy,” I said between sobs.
“I thought…”
He looked straight in my eyes.
“You did great. It’s a lot and we’re both figuring it out. I’m proud of you.”
I went inside and put our daughter in her crib for a nap. I brought the diaper bag, bottles, and the change of clothes for her and for me, inside.
“All I wanted to do was leave the house for a bit,” I said.
I did leave the house, but got no further than the garage.

In 1986, 1989, 1992, and 1995 there were more babies. Leaving home to go to the grocery store or to church was an event. I counted heads to make sure all of them got in the car with me. Gone were the days of quiet drives with my choice of music. Listening to music became sing alongs with my children. Soundtracks like Mary Poppins or Chitty Chitty Bang Bang were favorites. I didn’t mind. Hearing their little voices singing and laughing was the most joyful sound. “Are we there yet?” was asked more times than I can count. We were together. Leaving home was planned, but that was part of the fun. Leaving home with children was not spontaneous, logistically it couldn’t be. Oh, but it was worth it. It was so very worth it.