When you are a mother, taking your child with you to the bathroom is status quo, especially in public spaces. Even if you have a little boy. I mean, where else are they to go?
Yesterday was no different from any other outing. Except, well, someone was listening.
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 10
Okay, so I’ve missed a few days. The thing about writing about your life is, well, sometimes you just can’t blog about what happens in your day.
Small things happen that no one else will find interesting.
Big things happen that you can’t really share…at least not at the given moment in time.
But today, I was reminded of the deep love I have for something so fleeting in our technology-mediated world: face-to-face small talk.
Five years ago, there was no tree, no stockings, and no cheesy Christmas card. I remember the pictures we took that season. I forced every smile.
To be honest, our marriage had crumbled. Sure, every friend and family member who was happily anchored offered sound advice:
“Never go to bed angry.”
“Always say I love you.”
And my personal favorite, “You’ll always have each other.”
But a miscarriage ruined everything. I wanted to keep trying. My husband wanted to finish his PhD. And it seemed we were in pursuit of different children.
My husband and I designed our home to be a space of freedom and exploration for our children, but one area remains off-limits: the corner of our main hallway. In this nook resides our wedding invitation and my dried bouquet. They rest upon a table built by my groom – an anniversary gift.
It didn’t take long for our little ones to learn: Do not touch something so sacred.
And the great irony is this: I wish I had been so careful with my actual marriage these last seven years.
“We’ll go on a date night.”
It’s a lie we tell ourselves over and over and over again. The truth is, when our parents are in town, we get a little selfish. We, too, want attention – to be taken care of.
When you are raising your children several hours from your closest blood relative, it feels like all the hard decisions are yours to make:
Who will care for my child while I work?
Can we really afford what our family needs?
And how will I make it through the day without a backup quarterback?
In my own mothering, I have reached the danger zone: I want to give up.
Do good fences make good neighbors?
Of this, I am unsure. But a home in our neighborhood is now surrounded by newly planted planks.
[Insert echoes of a nail gun here]
The picture was terrible. Just terrible. But, then again, selfies were likely invented by someone younger than I am.
After several chaotic hours with my children, I decided that the real cherry on top of our day should be special. Go hard or go home, right?
We ventured to the local Wildlife Center in a muggy 90 degrees for their daily show. Thirty minutes of educational entertainment for $0 sounded like the best idea I have had in weeks. My son was thrilled.
So excited, in fact, that he improvised and stuck his tongue out when my thumb finally found the capture button.
Unlearning 