I woke this morning in the throes of one of those classic anxiety dreams. I was heading to school to teach a course. I was prepared and confident until an hour before the class was to begin, I learned that I was not, in fact, teaching the course I thought I was but a completely different one. The traditional panic ensued, yet I awoke strangely calm. I think this is the first anxiety dream I�ve ever had where I was a teacher rather than a student. I chose to believe this is a good omen. I am gaining more control! Then again, perhaps I�m just increasing the acuity of the potential humiliation.

After I returned from my class at the pool (which was, as I expected, a water aerobics class and not as in my dream a last minute substitution of something like nuclear physics) AJ and I packed our bags and headed for the train. AJ was concerned about being late, so we left a little early. While we waited on the platform for the train, we took inventory of AJ�s backpack. It contained:

1 orange sweatshirt with the number 32 on front [How exactly do they decide which numbers to put on little boy sweatshirts? Inquiring minds want to know.]

1 pair of swimming trunks, board short style

1 pair of Batman underpants

1 pair of navy blue shorts

1 T shirt emblazoned with fish from Pike Place Market in Seattle

1 stuffed bunny in grey shorts and a red and grey striped shirt

1 turquoise fish puppet

2 books: Miffy�s House and Henry and Beezus

1 matchbox car

1 box of raisins (minus three raisins)

Thus prepared for anything, covered our ears until the train came to a stop and we climbed aboard to begin our journey to Z�s house. The train ride took exactly one hour. AJ was enchanted with the trip. �You know what Mommy?� AJ asked at least three times, �This is my favorite way to travel.� We hopped off at Irving Park along with a lot of Cubs fans, including one man who had sat behind us, who informed us that at age 75 he was attending only his second baseball game in his life. He was decked out in a Cubs hat and jacket. �And I owe it all to this wonderful lady here,� he said, giving his wife a squeeze. �I never watched baseball, but she�s always been a big fan. She finally got me to a game to show me what I�d been missing.�

AJ and I said our goodbyes and walked several blocks to Z�s house, investigating every parking meter and reading every sign aloud, stopping only to cover our ears when the bus passed by a little too closely. We had a lovely time at Z�s, who had a new playset in the backyard with many slides and swings and things to climb and even a small telescope for peering into the neighbor�s yard. �Mommy, I can see in the window!� AJ screamed, surely alerting the neighbor to the breach of privacy and possibly a significant portion of the residents of the northwest side as well. Later we decided to fill up the wading pool and AJ, in the process of changing into his swimtrunks, came running out half naked shouting, �Hey! I�m not wearing any pants!� Z. was so amused, that she began shouting the same phrase. The two of them began chanting it over and over again as they played (by which point the pants had been restored), which only increased their amusement.

While the four-year-olds got sillier and sillier, Z�s mother and I caught up on each other�s lives and commiserated about the isolation of parenting and the difficulty of finding any friends with whom you actually have anything in common. We both found ourselves starting a lot of sentences saying things like, �I wouldn�t change anything about my life but�� as if we�re both afraid to voice the periods of satisfaction that are endemic to just about any situation. J, who�s currently organizing a class reunion, is reflecting back on past friends and relationships and playing the �what if� game. While I�ve been having periodic pangs of longing for being single and living alone. It�s hard not to feel guilty and ungrateful about such thoughts. And I wouldn�t really want to be back there, but I miss being alone and being able to go where I want when I want and being alone. I love my husband and my kid like crazy and I wouldn�t want to change my life but�

I told J about how my attempt to convey my fear of Chuck E. Cheese (see yesterday�s entry, which I�m too lazy to link here) to another mother was incredibly misunderstood and she laughed hard in recognition. It�s nice to be around one�s own kind once in a while. I reminds you that you are not a freak or possibly insane.

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