She who laughs, lasts?

It is in moments like this that the memory of that smug bastard surfaces.

At a September 2001 break-the-fast party, I talked to a friend of the hosts, a Conservative Jew who didn't do too much to hide that he found my life a bit odd. The party's hosts were East Coast Jews of a type I knew well: educated, urban, cynical and funny. They were more religious than I, but that isn't saying much. Their friends were an observant couple with two young children. The father Jonah was a self-satisfied but chatty guy with whom I did not find much in common, but around whom I felt too polite to walk away. (It may be an artifact of my life as a secular Jew that I feel somewhat uncomfortable around Jews who make no secret of their greater religious observance. It makes me feel unauthentic, like I don't deserve my claim to Jewishness.)

In my memory, Jonah has become more intense, more observant, more self-righteous than he probably was. Jonah was probably just this guy with an unfulfilling job and a fulfilling family and God. In any case, he'd asked me about family. Did we want kids? We we trying? I told him our plan, that we'd be trying soon, so that we could have a baby a few months before we moved from Rhode Island. Jonah looked at me, smiling.

"Do you know how to make God laugh?"

I played along. "How?"

"Make plans."

If I had not already been feeling uncomfortable, this would still have pushed me over the edge. I don't remember how I got out of the conversation, but I didn't think too much more about it. Once our attempts to conceive went on past six, past nine, past twelve months, I started to think of Jonah and his dim view of my desire to plan. I think of him a lot when life with Ada makes planning difficult. Saturday was one of those days.

Lately Chris and I have been struggling with Ada's erratic naps and have put off going places while we waited for her to tire and sleep. Friday night I decided that I wasn't going to do that on Saturday. I'd get up with Ada when she woke up at 6:30 or 7. We'd eat breakfast and I'd quickly get her dress and out the door. That way I would be sure to get to the farmer's market before she needed a morning nap, if she needed one. Great, except Ada woke up just before 5 am. By 7 she was zonked, and went down for a two hour nap. Jonah and his smug God-humor sprang immediately to mind.

After a nap of my own and some Ada-free morning time, I reassessed. When Ada woke up we went to the farmers market for raspberries and peaches. We ran into friends and played in the grass. After a second nap we went out to a street fair to visit with more friends, dance in the street and eat gelato.

So yes, Jonah is right that as a parent I can't always have things the exact way I plan. But that doesn't mean I can not make plans. I can, and I do as long as I am flexible. Making flexible plans lets me leave the house and doing fun things in the city without forcing my child into a schedule that doesn't work for her.