The Taste of Freedom

M went for a run.

We fed the Koala a little bit. We packed her breakfast. We got her dressed and sent her out into a world without us.

This took a little over two hours.

We stayed home and simply lavished in the silence although we both noticed that we have PTSD and hear constant crying sounds even when the baby is not there and we respond with tightened and tensed bodies in the same way we would if we thought a very drunk murderer with polio was limping up the stairs.

M took the Koala to her godparents who live about a five minute drive away. She came back doing her familiar, but lately less frequent victory hoe down dance. We hugged. We danced. We frolicked.

We made breakfast.

It was silent. We just ate. We didn't have to endlessly shuffle plates, move forks and knives, catch things, pick up things, wipe things, move the baby, shift the baby, nothing. We just sat next to each other and ate.

We had grand plans, but most importantly, we wanted to clean the fuck out of the house above everything else including s.e.x. because we figured, when the hell else are we going to have four hands all to ourselves without the incessant chirping and hooting of our favorite anti-assistant.

Throughout breakfast, we kept receiving texts and photos of the Godparents and our baby. People, it's our baby. We know what she looks like. Keep it to yourselves.

We fantasized about how to clean the house. Should we do each room together? Separately? Music? What are we going to do first? Is the dishwasher ready you think?

About two hours in, phone call.

Baby having a meltdown. They put her in the stroller and she pushed the Big Red Button.

No problem. We'll just pick her up, put her to bed, clean what we can and just have whatever time we have. M, I and the dog got in the car and found them on the street. By the time we had arrived, the Koala had fallen asleep. The dog was excited to see the godparents as well as their dog. M and I split up. She took the baby and the dog for a nice walk home and I went ahead to at least put our dishes away. A minute or so after I pulled away, I heard M yell for the dog really loudly and saw the dog in the rear view bolting after me in the car. I pulled over and put her in the trunk. We went home. The dog whined the entire time.

I got home and started cleaning. About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. M came up the stairs, baby in arm wide awake. Both of us with sad faces.