Mommy and Me just… isn’t for me. I kinda knew this on day one when I walked into what amounted to the rural Colorado version of the Stepford Wives.
Pagosa Springs is about as picturesque as it gets. It’s up there with any of the postcard places you see in movies and travel brochures if you’re into mountains, rivers, and national forests.
I like those things, which is why I chose this place. And I like small towns, so I like that too. But I guess I didn’t realize that almost everyone here is on permanent vacation.
Kinda like me, now that I think it through.
Permanent vacation because they are so damn rich, these women have nothing better to do than pretend they live in rural America as they sip mimosas at the club every Monday afternoon and let their nannies socialize their babies.
Anyway… I’m here starting a new life. These women in the Mommy and Me group at the country club (complimentary membership for all long-term residents of the Mineral Springs Resort) are here because this town is boring.
Well… that’s kinda why I’m here too.
I’m not what you’d call a city girl by any means. I’m not. I like moccasins and gauzy shirts. Hell, my whole apartment back in Denver was decorated in what the guys liked to call modern-day Bohemian. And I chose to live in Denver because while it’s a city, it’s a city alone. There are no other big cities anywhere close to it. Colorado only has three cities to begin with and Pagosa Springs is not one of them. Not even close.
So even though whitewater rafting down the San Juan is something I’d totally dig, and even though I could really get behind an off-grid week-long camping trip up in the Weminuche Wilderness, and even though I’d love to be looking forward to an entire winter of snowboarding up at Wolf Creek, I can’t do any of those things with a baby.
And I wouldn’t want to go alone, anyway.
I sigh as Sheryl, my only sorta-friend here in town, sips her mimosa and flamboyantly waves her hands around as she describes something funny her baby did with the nanny yesterday.
We do not have a nanny, so Adley is sitting in my lap, sticking my hair in her mouth, completely content to watch the Stepford Wives get liquored up and giggle like teenagers.
There are a few full-time local moms here at the meeting too. But they sit off in another area. It’s high school all over again. I’d prefer their company by miles, but I’m not really local. And I’m not sure I’m permanent.
I’m probably not coming back next week because all the remaining Stepford Wives are going to their third houses for the snow season in a few days. Apparently Wolf Creek is just not classy enough so they simply must ski Aspen and Vail.
I can’t wait for them to leave. I feel like I’ve gotten too close to Sheryl and if I took off now, she’d ask questions. Although she has never once asked me why I’m staying in the long-term housing at the resort, I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a battered wife on the run, and if I disappeared she’d probably file a missing person’s report.
It’s kinda touching, really. That she’d care. But the cops looking into my past is the last thing I need.
So I’m biding my time until they all disappear and then Adley and I are outta here. I think we’ll spend the winter in Jackson Hole. That’s a nice out-of-the-way place. And winters are crazy fun with all the snow people. Quin took me there for a weekend once and we had a blast.
Adley starts to get fussy and I check the weather outside to see if it’s time to go yet. But this place does have one thing going for it. The amazing hot springs in the center of town. My resort has a huge one and I take Adley there every day so we can soak. There’s one pool that’s not too hot. There’s a little inlet from the river that lets cold water rush in, so it’s almost tepid. Perfect for a baby.
But it was raining this morning. And there was lightning. Can’t go in when there’s lightning. Right now it’s misty outside. But I think the thunderstorms have passed.
I stand up and start gathering my things.
“Oh, are you leaving already?” Sheryl asks.
Already? Jesus. I’ve been here for three hours. If I don’t get out now I might scream.
“Adley needs a nap,” I say in my sweet voice. It’s a cross between naive and innocent on the outside, but on the inside it is cynical and world-weary. I smile at that thought and Sheryl thinks I’m being friendly.
“You can put her down in the nap room.”
I could. If I was that kind of mother. But I’m not. And she’s not really tired yet. I’m pretty sure she’s anxious for her dip in the tepid springs.
“I’m tired too,” I say. “I got no sleep last night.” Adley is a champion sleeper. She never wakes up and I’m probably the most well-rested new-mom-without-a-nanny they’ve ever seen. But I exhale just the right amount of sigh and hike the diaper bag over my shoulder. “So I’m gonna lie down with her. See you guys next week.”
“Oh, we’re leaving!” Suddenly there is a big production about how they will never see me again and I get stuck there for twenty more minutes just trying to say goodbye.
By the time we actually do make it back to the suite, we really are tired.
I tell myself we’ll just sit for a minute and watch People’s Court before tackling the bathing suits and heading out. But one minute turns into ten, turns into an hour, and pretty soon we’re all cuddled up in the giant king-sized bed, fast asleep.
I wake to the soft, sweet coos of Adley. When I open my eyes and look down at her, she’s smiling at me. “Hey, pumpkin,” I say. “You ready for a swim? Should we eat first? I bet you’re hungry?”
More smiles.
I take that as a yes to all of the above and get busy changing her diaper, putting on her suit. Then I dress her up in a pair of baby sweats and a tiny pink hoodie that says, Pagosa Springs, Refreshingly Authentic. The town motto. Most of our wardrobe has been purchased at the tourist shops on Lewis Street. I know Jackson Hole is not much bigger than Pagosa, but at least it will be different. I see a whole new set of tourist clothes in our future.
I velcro a bib under her chubby baby chin and take her over to a chair to feed her a bottle. We’re just starting to transition into baby food and she’s not cooperating very well. I’m one of those go-with-the-flow moms, so I’m not gonna push. One new food a week is about all I’m up to. Then I make a little note in the journal I’m keeping on her baby days. If she likes it. If she has any kind of allergic reaction. Nothing so far. But we’ve only tried peas (she hates those), peaches and sweet potatoes (her favorite).