I have recently begun to discover a whole world of events for moms and babies in DC. In particular, there are many activities directed toward mom-support during the first few months of the baby’s life — when the babies are most portable and urban moms are most likely to be home with them. So, today I woke up with three options:
1) Mom and Baby yoga, where I could do a workout with El Ez strapped to my chest.
2) Rattle and Reel, a weekly movie open to caretakers and babies.
3) A parents’ support group at a family yoga center in a moderately swanky part of town.
Option # 1 had the workout element going for it, but it also would have required me leaving the house by 10 am, and I was not quite motivated enough to do that today. Option #3 required driving, which I did not feel like doing. That left the winning option # 2, particularly alluring this week because because the movie was “The King’s Speech,” which I really want to see and could imagine watching with a snoozing babe. Other recent “Rattle and Reel” showings have included “Black Swan” and other dark fare, and I’m sorry, even if he is asleep, I just can’t take my baby to a sex/horror flick, no matter how artsy.
So, I bundled the babe in his fuzzy bear suit, strapped him in my beco carrier and headed out to catch the bus. However, Georgia Avenue, the bus route, was closed the few blocks around our house, so I walked to a bus stop farther south. After waiting for 30 minutes and watching a fleet of police cruisers speed up the street, it became clear to me the bus was not going to arrive. And even if it did, I was not going to make it to the movie. I gave up and walked home, taking a different route when the police told me I could no longer walk up Georgia Avenue. One might think this would fill a new mother with fear, but street closures and police conventions seem rather commonplace. I did see several officers suiting up in bomb-response gear, not an every day thing. But I still was not afraid, because, really, who would plant a bomb on Georgia Avenue? No offense to the “Great Street,” but if someone is going to bomb DC, I think a moderately blighted street would not be the first choice.
Upon arrival to our little homestead, I discovered another police car blocking entrance to our block. The officer asked me where we lived, then said, “OK, go to your house. Go inside. Right away.”
When a police officer tells me to go inside right away, I listen. So I huddled home and temporarily gave up on any more mom and baby adventures.
But then the bomb threat — or whatever it was — was cleared in the next hour, thereby clearing my schedule to try to option #3, yuppie yoga mama talky hour. I started to try to get Ezra ready, but he seemed to be getting ready for something else. And behold, there was A Very Large Diaper Deposit. And lo, there were many wipes used and several innocent items soiled. By the time we dealt with that, there was no time left to go anywhere.
Oh, well. Life with an infant means every now and then, one has to deal with a bomb or two.