yesterday i sat in a coffee shop and wrote. i do this every MWF of the week, while jackson plays at school just a half a mile away for a couple of hours.

it was enjoyable, quiet, peaceful. it was filled with caffeinated beverages and baked goods. cream cheese and whip cream for those who chose to indulge.

since jackson has been school age, i’ve come to enjoy our routine that leads to this precious time at the coffee shop and allows me to write and think with a clear head. sure, i can write at home and during nap time (and i do), but any parent out there will tell you how important it is to have time away… time for you.

as my first hour ended, i watched a woman come through the doors of the coffee shop with a cello. a HUGE and beautiful instrument that i assumed was to be shared in the quiet corner of the coffee shop while patrons smiled as the music of a strings flowed into our ears.

i nodded my head at her, a simple greeting, as i squelched back the desire to walk up to her and exclaim, “CELLO!”

shortly after, another woman walked in with a bongo.

and then a man followed her with flyers and a tip jar.

slowly a band was forming.

i continued to assume that it would be quiet, coffee shopish tunes that i would hear once they set up and began to play.

i was so damn wrong.

as the group adjusted their instruments, tested them out, enjoyed free coffee from the baristas, moms and dads and itty bitty little ones began to collect in the coffee house, in front of the fire place.

the musicians were there to have a baby music hour in the middle of the coffee shop.

at first i didn’t think much of it because not a lot of people were there to enjoy it. but as any parent knows, kids will cause you to run late for activities. and so as the songs continued, more people collected.

more crying babies. more songs. and then… more instruments. tambourines were passed around. shakers for the little ones to use were shared.

i offered the chair i sat on to a mom who frantically looked for a place to rest and moved to a table in the back, next to the bathroom.

by the time the everyone had congregated and the musicians were on verse 2 of “the wheels on the bus,” i started to get angry. i felt like i deserved a heads up that this was going to happen in my haven. my few hours of solace every MWF had been tainted by NOISE.

and oh the noise… the music was one thing, but the crying babies who demanded to be fed, the shouts across the shop for one friend to grab another friend a small milk because they had forgotten theirs, the damn tambourine…

mind you, when we moved here 2 years ago, i yearned to find little outings for jackson and i like the one i witnessed yesterday. i bundled up a wee magoo and went to the public library for story hour (complete with bubbles) and relished in the knowledge that every so often, i could count on taking my kidlet somewhere OUT OF THE HOUSE and be around others who looked to do the same.

but yesterday morning, i was pissed. i didn’t have enough time to venture to another coffee shop before having to pick jackson up from school. i couldn’t escape the noise even with ear buds in my ears and itunes blasting and the toilet flushing (since i was next to the bathroom).

once you become a parent, you’re ALWAYS a parent. you watch others with their kids. you find yourself smiling at sweet faces of newborns. you stand in line at target and sway back and forth even though you ventured to target sans baby. you watch a mom or dad who has multiples and wonder how they do it when you only have one kid and can barely keep your head above water (ok maybe not you, but i do).

you can’t undo being a parent in the same way that you can’t unsee something. it’s there. embedded in your brain.

and so watching these parents and little ones congregate yesterday in the coffee shop was beyond disruptive. my brief escape from parenthood was replaced with babies and rattles and “twinkle twinkle little star” and odors of shit-filled diapers wafting through the air.

i packed up my things and climbed over blankies and diaper bags and teeny bodies that sat on the floor.

then i asked the owner of the shop, kate, in a whispered tone, “is this going to become ‘a thing?’” she looked frazzled as she prepped vanilla nonfat lattes and chai teas.

“no,” she mouthed back to me.

and i was relieved… dammit, i need my break time.

because now, as i sit at home and write this post and recall what yesterday morning was like, jackson is sitting behind me, on the couch cushions, and wrapping his arms around my neck… but not in a loving, “i just want to be close to you” sort of way.

he’s suffocating me.