Excuse me, I seem to have misplaced my modesty

I peed in front of a perfect stranger the other day. It wasn't my fault. It was Ethan's.

Actually, it was partly my fault. I had been drinking coffee all morning and running errands. By the time I found parking it was already a code red situation. I still had to get the baby out of the car seat, grab the books I was taking to the bookshop, and walk the block and a half to the bookshop.

I made it to the shop. There is only one toilet in this place. It's not like you walk through a heavy outer door especially for women then once inside choose an enclosed stall. This place has just a little bathroom adjacent to an open area. It's a door that you go through and inside there's a sink and a toilet. Like in your house. Thank god the bathroom was free. I cannot imagine (okay, I just did. Agh!!) how much worse this could have been if someone else had been in there. No amount of kegels after pregnancy and birth could have repaired my pelvic floor well enough to give me another 30 seconds. I had to go RIGHT NOW.

I entered the windowless bathroom with Ethan. The light was broken. The reason the light was broken is because Ethan and I had broken it the week before. It's one of those naked lightbulbs in the middle of the ceiling with a chain that hangs down. You pull the chain to turn the light on and off. I let Ethan pull it last week. He baredly tugged on it but the damn thing still came clear off. Oops.

So I left the door open a sliver lest we be plunged into total darkness, put Ethan down, and sat. Ethan promptly pulled the door wide open and ran out into the bookshop.

ETHAN! I yelled. And then Sooorry to the clerk, who had the unfortunate view of my perch.

There was nothing I could do. I certainly couldn't stop. I couldn't reach the door. So I just went right on peeing in full view of anyone who dared to be in the bookshop at the time. Gratefully, it was just the clerk and my wild boy.

When I came out I told the clerk, uhh, the light's broken in there.

Yeah, she answered, some woman came in last week and yanked it really hard.

Lies!! I thought. That ridiculous light was decrepit when we found it! But I kept this to myself.

Then I sold my books and read Ethan a huge truck book half his size that he brought over to me with both hands. I walked out of there holding Ethan's hand like nothing had happened. Who needs modesty?

Excuse me, mama, while I kiss the sky

Parenting in San Francisco definitely has its perks. One of them is the abundance of very cool places to play. Although our urban playgrounds may be bound by metal fences and bordered by busy streets, they tend to have just enough green to soften the city's concrete landscape. Somehow nature creeps in. Ethan and I found ourselves surrounded by natural beauty the other day at the Upper Noe playground.

This playground is new and well attended by kids Ethan's age. It has a sand circle, a play structure with slides of varying heights, and swings. It also has a wild, spinning, Christmas-tree looking thing that Ethan L-O-V-E-S.

The Christmas-tree thing is just a big cone. It has a wide round platform on the bottom with a tall pole stuck through the middle. Spider-webby ropes string up from the outside rim of the platform to the top of the pole. Big kids monkey up the outside of the ropes while the thing is spinning. Little ones like Ethan have to wait for it to stop. Then they crawl through the rope on the bottom and enjoy the circular ride. Sometimes Ethan gets up and runs in the direction opposite of the spin. I think he might knock himself out colliding with another kid or that the centripetal force of the thing will send him shooting out of the ropes. It makes me nervous. So while he's in it I run along outside like a tethered pony in a ring, but not really like a pony because I trip around and around and around sideways so I can be ready to catch Ethan if he actually takes flight. I guess that's more like a galloping crab. With arms. Not only does this look as ridiculous as it sounds, it totally annoys the bigger kids who wish I would get out of the way so they can scrabble off and on at will.

Ethan tried a little bit of everything that day. He spent a few minutes in the swing, just enough time in the sand to ensure gobs of it would later end up in the stroller, and he took a few daring twirls on the Christmas tree until he was too embarrassed by his mother, I'm sure, to continue. He also enjoyed hanging from the monkey bars for as long as my biceps could take it.

Then he took to chasing pigeons. I followed him until he tried to climb under a bench after a bird. At that point I caught him up. I sat down and he stood on my lap, facing me.

Across from us there was a line of eucalyptus trees bordering the playground. They smelled good. As a gentle wind came through they made a lovely rustle. There was a young tree behind us. I don't know what kind of tree it was, but its pliable limbs stretched out close to our heads. Late afternoon sun glimmered between the low, bright green leaves. I imagined I could smell the fresh oxygen coming from the tree - it was like inhaling mountain air.

Ethan seemed to sense my ephemeral drift away from urban playground into the natural. He lifted his face upward, letting the leaves caress his cheeks. He smiled open-mouthed. I could see the sweet pink ridges of his palat and his new round teeth like little pearls budding behind his lip.

He reached his arms to the sides and up, touching the leaves. I held him by his little hips. He glanced down at me as if to say excuse me, mama. Then he tipped back again. He extended up as his whole being expressed while I kiss the sky.