Let The Monkey Roll

Learning life skills never stops

I used to be so good at breakfasts. I had not one but two waffle irons, could fry up a mess of bacon, scramble a load of eggs and dish up a farmhand’s feast on checkered tablecloth, vintage plates.

Where did those waffle irons go? I don’t remember giving them away, but maybe like socks one of them disappeared naturally and the other could very well be sitting in our attic.

I thought about the waffle iron, more as a concept than anything I could actually lay hands on, when our friends were coming over for Sunday breakfast with their almost two year old daughter this morning. Just as I thought about a tub of my daughter’s old toys that’s probably lodged up there too. My daughter is thirty four so by rights those toys could have been dumped long ago but I’m sentimental.

It had been a long time since a two year old was in this house. I think the last time was Eric’s granddaughter back in 2013. I am out of practice at a lot of things: breakfasts, entertaining friends, and toddlers. Those are skills I thought I would have forever but when you stop practicing, even actions that seem natural or at least ingrained from years of practice, abilities fade. Sure I’ve learned plenty of new programs and skills since domesticity was my language: podcasting, InDesign. GarageBand (anyone can do it). Writing and editing. Screenprinting. I play guitar better than I used to. Eric even gave me a crash course in plumbing the other day - I helped him install a new sink and dishwasher in our kitchen — it was wonderfully basic but the physical gyrations make yoga and Pilates look like a walk in the park — I just kept telling myself “pretend it’s downward dog” when trying to hold a light for Eric from an impossible position. “Breathe…breathe…and. don’t. Move.”

But back to breakfast. I felt like my pancake game was a little off when our pals came over but put enough maple syrup on anything and it will taste good. Eric recoils at the sight of eggs so I left those off the menu, and we technically gave up bacon back in Season One of Covid, but the chicken sausage I cooked up wasn’t bad. It was great hanging out but then it was playtime with the adorable toddler and…

I remembered how fun two year olds are. I’d worried about toys but anything is a toy for a child this age. A feather duster handle became a cherished friend to us, we swaddled our baby in a dishtowel a hundred times, then woke her up, then covered her with the towel again.

After that got a little old I remembered this weird ancient monkey toy that’s been sitting gathering dust on a shelf that holds guitar strings, pedals and music stuff nobody wants or cares about but we’re just too busy or lethargic to deal with. This monkey looks European, and probably comes from the fifties or before. I worried “is it okay to play with the monkey?” thinking maybe it was valuable or precious to someone. But I wondered who that someone could possibly be and thought THIS was the moment for the monkey. I have no idea where it came from, why it’s been sitting here in this house for a dozen years, but what would be the point of saving this already tired looking toy?

So we turned the little key on his side and the monkey started to do somersaults on the floor, very awkwardly like a person who hadn’t been to yoga class for a while. The toddler was a little scared but also enchanted, wanted me to stop making it move but begged me to keep it going. The monkey was looking younger by the minute. Sort of.

It felt good to spend time down on the floor with a little one like that. Eric’s grandkids are getting older now, we missed two years of them growing up while travel was not happening which I don’t think I’d even really registered til now. Two years without having people over except in super-casual let’s all meet up outdoors ways and I became a lot less sociable than I used to be and protective of my time to get work done. I used to love to put meals together for people and hope I will again, or just pick up pizza to be able to have friends over. I think there’s a waffle iron from my past like a guardian angel upstairs.

Another thing I noticed with the toddler was how every word I said, she repeated. She was learning new things by the second, developing before my eyes. I thought what a huge responsibility to be a parent, more than it’s possible to realize when you’re in it because if you did you’d be completely frozen. I remember just trying to do my best with what I had. Like you wish you could step outside yourself and become this paragon who does everything right but all you can do is love your kid and give your all and hope things don’t go too wrong.

I think about this a lot lately as I’ve been working on my second memoir. It’s about moving to Nashville and other choices I made that impacted not just me but my daughter, and it’s difficult to face some of it. Way harder than my first book which was a coming of age cause you’re only allowed to be that young and foolish once. The youth part fades away but you still carry on and the path isn’t always clear.

Our friends went home and Eric and I worked in the studio for a while. I really want to get another record made. But soon I was back in the kitchen getting a chicken in the oven because dinner doesn’t make itself. I took out potatoes to roast and first I had to peel them. Meanwhile Eric was putting a bass part on a track we’d just worked on, as I shuttled between the kitchen door and the studio door to offer advice or encouragement. But back to peeling potatoes. I don’t know about you but the only way I ever knew to peel them is back to front, striking the peeler away from me. And I hate it and no peeler ever works as well as it should. Eric has seen me doing this from time to time and said “No, you peel towards yourself, like this,” and shown me. And I’ve grumbled and shaken my head and said everybody has their way.

Well last night I decided to really try peeling towards me. And by god it worked. I got it. And I thought about growing up and my mom showing me the way she knew how to peel, maybe the same way her mother had taught her.  But this new way had a whole other level of control and it was a revelation. I thought I might have had a better handle on life overall if I’d only been shown this basic skill correctly in my formative years. I wished I could go back in time and show my mom “look, look - this is so much easier”, but we can only move forward. So I’m a long way from my new young friend the toddler, in terms of learning new things. But it can still happen. I’m suddenly eager for the next peeling job. Parents can only do their part and the rest we have to be responsible for ourselves. So this lets my mom off the hook. And allows me a measure of forgiveness too, towards myself.

Maybe home fries next time, for breakfast?