Today, when I picked her up from daycare, there were dried sweet potatoes on her nose and both of her eyebrows. Because of of the daily report I get on her feeding and diapering and general mood, I know it happened sometime around 2.
But I don’t know how.
Did she lunge for the spoon and fling her food back at her face, maybe? Or it could have been a reach into the bowl followed by a nap-time eye rub. It’s not a big deal. I just get curious. About what she does.
One of the hardest adjustments to make in this part of our lives has been getting used to all of the time we spend away from each other.
For almost six years, David and I worked in the same office and he was just across the newsroom from me. And then Alice arrived, and she and I were at home together all day. Most afternoons, David spent lunchtimes with us. Now David is in a new office. Alice is at daycare. I am back at work. Such long hours when our lives don’t feel like they touch. I imagine what they are up to. The walk she is on. The phone call he is making. It can be disorienting.
Last Friday evening, after work, Alice and I threw an overnight bag together and drove up to Sacramento to meet David. We stayed at a hotel and called it a vacation. And in the morning, after breakfast, we visited David’s new desk.
We met the doorman and we looked out his window. He has a very nice view.
It wasn’t exactly how I imagined it. I guess it usually isn’t. But now I can picture things better.
Later in the morning, we took a walk around the park outside the Capitol and windowshopped and drove back home.