Single Mothering by Choice–Daring to do the Nights Alone. Part One.

Sunday afternoon, 1:00 p.m. Bogota, Colombia–

My dear friend Julie jumps in a cab for the airport.  We had just returned from a memorable Bogota walk: the almond croissant at Masa, strolling down Cyclovia—which I now understand is in L.A.–, passing serious cyclists, kids on pink bikes, skateboarders and a lot of babies.  Martin whisked by, the four-month-old son of Masa´s owners in a baby jogger in front of his father, a nanny pushed twin 14-month-olds while their fit-enough mother sped walk along side.  I stopped her to ask my standard questions, ¨How old are they? How were they born? Which clinic? ¨  The biggest surprise was that after years of trying, and having the twins though invitro, they got pregnant naturally and also have a two-month-old.  She has three kids less than 14 months.  God help her.  Julie said with eyebrows raised, ¨I can´t believe how much information she told you in four minutes. ¨ We walked to Parque Chico, the Bogota classic with geese, a double decker bus that serves pastries and coffee, and where kids can paint ceramic dogs and pigs in addition to swing and slide.  We sat on a bench in the shade, Zadie resting on my chest and continued our three-day-running conversations.  I changed Zadie on the wooden slats, a friend who frequents all parks came by to say hi, and we took Zadie´s most amazing out door picture.  When we decided to get up, Julie offered to wear Zadie.  I said ¨Yes, please. ¨

 

We walked to Parque Virrey that stretches 12 blocks from east to west.  We roamed through three different spectacular muscular feats while peaking in strollers, noticing a zillion kids, like Julie´s daughter Avery, on scooters, and Bogota´s countless dogs off leash.  ¨No leash law here? ¨Julie inquired. ¨No leash law, no seat belts in the back seats of cabs, no car seat regulation and no walk sign at intersections. ¨

 

The first set of fit, young, daring, youth wore all white, stood in a circle chanting, while two members squared off for the Brazilian martial art Capoeira.  Picture two people who look like they will wrestle, doing a lot of kicks that never make contact, all while moving left and right in unison.  I once received a free one-on-one Capoeira class in Chicago, it almost broke me. It isn´t for the weak.  A few steps later we stopped at the Urban Workout, read muscle beach, outdoor gym that all the ripped guys have taken over.  During the week as we zip through the park to gymnastics, 15 men and women do cross fit here, on Sunday´s it is like a skate park for 50 men who want to do Urban Muscle Art. Picture five men, all entering and exiting high bars in strength demanding ways, holding them self horizontal to vertical bars, flipping and jumping like gymnasts on rings. As soon as their biceps give out, a second set replaces them, a third set replaces second set, and so the show goes.

We didn´t have much time but hustled to the far end of the park to see the Cirque de Soleil-esque youth wrapped in long streaming swathes of red, blue, and green fabric that hung 50 feet in the air.  We took pictures.  I will never be able to do Capoeira, muscle high bar, or aerial dance. For now I walk around the park, one day I can hope to run

 

Nearly 1:00 p.m. we jumped in a cab and returned home.

Next, my weekend nanny and I worked on her visa application for the states.  She has an interview on Wednesday.  My fingers are crossed that she will be able to join us.  As Kelly´s schedule no longer allows her to travel.

With the Sunday nanny leaving at 4:30 p.m. I think it might be fun to try one night on my own with the kids—I don´t call in the reinforcements.  I don´t let the fact that they have both been sick deter me. I take the opportunity as a challenge, like something memorable, I imagine it might make a good blog post.  It does cross my mind that the night could be so horrific that my day could be ruined, or worse, the cold I am just running out in front of could catch me and bite me in the ass.  I mean I am all for adventurous mothering, but really, why start with a solo night shift with two kids just coming out of cold hell who both wake multiple times crying a night?  But, this is the night that no one is available for support.  How bad could it be?  Many parents have done it before with children my age.  Some women raise twins.  I decide to try it, accepting that I am a mothering light weight I decided to line up back up help.

I text my friend Or.  He, more than anyone here in Bogota is always offering to help out, play with Santi, give me a break, even if it is just to sleep.

¨Or, can you be on call tonight.  I won´t know if I will need your help until later, but if I get overwhelmed, I want to know I can call someone and they will be here in less than ten minutes. ¨

He happily agrees.  He is an enneagram seven.

I am well rested, I got out and saw the sun, I even took the last hour of of the nanny’s shift to sit at Harry´s bar and post picture of the spectacular dinner Julie and I had at El Cielo.  See Facebook if your interested.  I feel energized, optimistic, and confident.  Kelly will be here at 8:30 a.m.  How hard could this be?