With everything getting ramped up for the tour, Prince starts spending even more time at Paisley than he does at home. Therefore, Ramiel and I are also spending a great deal more of our time at Paisley as well. We soon start stopping in regularly during his rehearsals. Ramiel loves watching his father perform on stage, especially when the light show is added in on occasion. He doesn't, however, like the headphones we make him wear to help protect his ears from the deafening volume of the music.
At first, when I started bringing him down to the soundstage, Ramiel's reaction was like mine, he would just sit entranced, with his mouth agape, staring at his father. I found it humorous, although, I'm slightly embarrassed to admit myself, that Prince has this same affect on me when he performs. I get so mesmerized with watching him that time seems to stop. I want to notice every movement of his fingers on the frets, every subtle detail of his 'guitar faces', everything. After a few times of bringing Ramiel in, he soon stopped with his staring and now bounces and bops to the music as I hold his hands for support. This caused Prince to stop once, mid song, and joke good naturedly, "Son, you dance like your mother," winking at me before picking up right where he had left off.
With everything advancing like it should, we manage to resume almost a full week of 'our' normal home life before the tour begins on March 14. Prince flies out to Kentucky the morning of the thirteenth, and isn't due to return until the sixteenth, kicking off the beginning of this tour with four shows in just two days.
The first night without Prince home proves difficult. Ramiel was so preoccupied with watching the doorway of his bedroom, anxiously waiting for his father to appear like he always does. That night, I had to return to the nursery twice, our normally easy-going child was fussy and inconsolable. He fought sleep as long as he was able, and, with what I call a 'comfort feeding,' exhaustion was finally able to claim him.
Emotionally spent from Ramiel's unease, it's almost 3am when I manage to crawl into our bed. My cell phone rings shortly after I get settled, "Hey, Sugar," Prince's voice is full of excitement and I can tell he's wide awake.
"Hey," I breathe, happy to hear his voice, but fighting my own exhaustion. "Ready for tomorrow?"
"Oh yeah!" he laughs before becoming serious, "How'd it go tonight?"
"I won't lie, it was rough. I actually just got him down," I yawn. "He's so used to you being here that it was definitely a challenge. I'm sure tomorrow will go better." The line falls quiet, so quiet that I think we've been disconnected, "Prince?"
"Yes, I'm here," he sighs, I can tell this lack of harmony at home upsets him.
"We love you, and miss you, but we're going to be alright. Okay?" I do my best to make him feel at ease.
"Okay," he whispers, still subdued.
"You better knock their socks off tomorrow, Music Man," I joke, changing the subject. I'm relieved to hear a small chuckle from him.
"Do you expect any less?" the cockiness returns.
"Never," I smile, the man aims to please.
Prince doesn't talk too long and his excitement about tomorrow's show returns quickly. He knows I'm tired and that I need my rest so I can tend to our child, but I could also sense he was feeling torn, keeping me on the line until he was comfortable that we were, indeed, going to be alright. "I love you, Baby," he says softly out of the blue.
"I love you, too," I whisper.
"I'll call tomorrow between shows," he promises before saying his goodbyes, "Kiss Ramiel for me."
When I hit the disconnect button on the phone to end our call, I suddenly feel very alone. It's been quite a long run that Prince has been beside me, or at least at home when I've gone to bed, that it seems odd to not have him here. You signed up for this, I tell myself, then also take the time to remind myself it's only going to be a couple of nights. As I drift off to sleep, I think about how Prince must feel alone in that strange hotel room tonight. I can only imagine that he's finding some comfort in playing a piano that I'm sure has been brought in for his stay.
*******
The next morning starts as any other with the sounds of Ramiel's indecipherable baby ramblings coming from the monitor. I roll over in bed to watch the display, grinning when I see him holding what looks like an in-depth conversation with the stuffed teddy bear in the corner of his crib. I look up to the heavens and whisper a "thank you," delighted to see him back in his 'normal' happy-go-lucky mood. I go ahead and start my morning routine, using the bathroom, then slipping on my robe and making my way down the hallway.
When I enter, the teddy bear is forgotten as he pulls himself up and reaches for me. "There's my happy boy," I say as I scoop him up and bring him to the changing table. "Are you hungry? Huh?" I ask as I change and fasten on a clean diaper. "Let's go get some cereal. Yum!" The 'yum' gets mimicked, complete with lip smacks as he bounces and kicks in my arms. I slowly make my way back toward the elevator. I had been carrying him down the stairs, but lately, carrying him has been like trying to hold a wiggling, over-wound spring, I don't dare risk using the stairs.
Once I get him into his high chair, I pump some breast milk to mix with the baby cereal and just enough to fill his sippy cup. He grabs the cup as soon as it's placed on the tray, quickly finishing it by the time I sit down next to him with his cereal. "You have a better appetite than your father," I muse. Ramiel already has his mouth open wide before I can lift the spoon from the bowl.
Halfway through eating, though, he does something new, and chomps down on the rubber coated spoon so firmly that I have to wait for him to release his grip to pull it free. His beautiful face soon contorts, brows furrowed and he starts to fuss. "Oh, Sweetie, what's wrong?" My heart aches with this sudden change in mood.
I release the latches on the tray and pull him out, putting him on my lap to do my best to soothe him. When he puts his fingers into his mouth again, it occurs to me what might be going on. "Let me see, Little Man," I say, pulling his hand away from his mouth. As soon as I run my finger across his lower gum I know what the problem is, he's starting to cut teeth. "Ah, ha," I say gently, breathing a sigh of relief. Even though we have an array of teething toys, we don't have any that can be chilled or frozen, "Looks like a trip to Target our agenda today, Little Man." That's exactly what I do, heading back upstairs to get us ready to run the little errand to help find him some relief from the discomfort.
Later that night when Prince calls, I listen attentively as he gushes about the first show. "That crowd was lit, Sugar!" he exclaims. I can just picture him full of energy and strutting around his dressing room while he talks to me. This is his drug, I think to myself as he rambles on a mile a minute. Only when Ramiel starts reacting, vocalizing in response to his father's voice on the line, does Prince calm down a few notches. "Put me on speaker," he requests.
"Hold on," I say, pulling the phone from my ear and hitting the speaker button.
"Little Man," Prince croons. Ramiel squeals and bounces, his head pivots as he looks for his father in the living room.
I laugh, "He's looking for you."
"Oh, no," I can hear the sadness in his voice. "Ramiel, I'm not there, but I will be soon," he says soothingly.
While Prince is on speaker, I tell him about Ramiel starting to cut teeth. "That's why he was so fussy, but we went to Target and got some stuff. Didn't we, Little Man?" I ask as I bounce him on my knee.
"Is it helping?" The concert is temporarily forgotten.
"Yes, he seems much more comfortable, now. And I got some homeopathic gel to put on at bedtime, too." It seems odd as I relate this all to Prince, he may be a rockstar, but he's also a caring father and loving husband. "You'd better go," I say when I hear voices in the background come through on my end.
"Yeah," he says matter of factually, "I love you, Sugar. And you too, Little Man." I hear a chorus of "awwws" from the ladies of 3rd Eye Girl when Ramiel giggles and babbles back to his father.
"We love you, too. Go, show 'em how it's done!" I laugh.
"We will, talk to you soon. Ciao, Baby."
"Ciao," I laugh as I disconnect.
I stare at the phone for a few seconds before Ramiel reaches for it. "Oh, no you don't, this things not drool proof. Come on, you want a bath?" With the word 'bath,' Ramiel bounces and flails his arms, causing me to chuckle. "
Two more nights," I say aloud, more for myself than Ramiel. I pick him up and head upstairs, "I know, you miss your daddy as much as I do."
Again, he cranes his head to look over my shoulder, "Not yet, Handsome, but soon. Let's splash awhile, okay?" Again, he bounces with excitement as I prepare to set our nighttime routine into action.