great expectation: a father's diary...excerpts

June 12 | November 4 | November 28 | December 10

November 4

It's a weepy evening. Maura began crying not long after I got home, strung out over, she said, not having gotten anything of substance done during the day. Sometimes the day fritters away, and panic sets in, and having taken your daughter to ballet class doesn't quite compensate for other wasted hours. Then she held up her finger, the nail of which is brown from a fungus. "And I'm old," she wept, "and I have to buy this old person's medicine at the drugstore."
I eased her upstairs so she could grade some papers and feel worthwhile, and when she was gone, Maeve began crying in frustration over trying to write a note to her teacher and forgetting which letters made the ch sound. It took a while to convince her that she could just cross out her mistake and continue on. Then she cried twice more before dinner was finally ready and Maura came back downstairs, composed and even almost smiling.
Maura had a small glass of wine with dinner, which I've begun to heartily endorse, especially on days like this. We take heart from what our friend Bonnie told us about her first pregnancy. Her OB was a surly French guy, and she'd nervously asked him whether it would be okay if she drank an occasional glass of wine. "Of course," he said impatiently, "unless you zhink all French women are idiots."