What an important time to be a toddler

Since we are temporarily living in "town", we've been taking advantage and doing daily walks along West Cliff (a populated beach walk, but it has a locals vibe).

Before COVID, most people smiled as they passed or offered some sort of friendly gesture.  Now, with mostly masked faces, it feels like no one is friendly...even if they're smiling from behind their mask.

Turns out, if you have a toddler in tow, it's a game changer.

For every single person we passed today, Zoë said, "Hi, I'm Zoë, what's your name?"  Nine out of ten people nearly stopped in their tracks to say hello back and then, if they'd listen, Zoë would continue with:

"Do you know I have a birthday?  I'll be three.  This is my sister. Her name is Josephine. Do you know she has two teeth?"

I had two favorites from the day:

1. A woman named Olga who was so delighted to be stopped to say hello.  She prodded Zoë with lots of questions and we found out her middle name was Josephine.  Turns out she also has a granddaughter named Zoë and our Zoë thought that was the coolest.
2. At the end of our walk, Zoë was out of the stroller collecting rocks.  She stopped two different women who patiently waited as Zoë went through her spiel. Then she told them she had found a rock just for them. They both graciously accepted and commented on how pretty the rock was and how much they would cherish it.

The last woman we spoke to held her newly gifted rock close to her heart and said, "It seems like our only hope right now is to chat with strangers. Thank you for stopping to say hello. You truly made my day."

I'm honored we could help. 

Confidence: Rattled

For the first time in a long time, I've had my self-confidence rattled to the core.  It feels so jarring because gaining that confidence took the better part of 30 years.  So for one conversation to start to erase my work, my focus...my literal blood, sweat and tears...is: Just. Not. Okay.

So I am here. Back to this familiar place of solace and of self-acceptance. A place most people don't know exists.  And I am here because it is mine. 

And that is my sunshine.  

This little piece of white screen that I get to control.

6 months or 6 years

Here we are.  Halfway through 2020 and I feel like it's been 6 years since January. 

There are days when everything hits me at once - mom guilt, the uncertainty of everything about COVID-19, fifty heart-breaking videos of protests, spilled milk, piles of laundry, endless questions from a toddler and a work to-do list I can't seem to check off.

These are the days I almost can't breathe. They are also the days Josephine seems unconsolable.

So with a screaming child, I loaded up two kids and the dog and headed out for a walk - to find my breath.

Just as we left the driveway, I could see two people in masks waiting at the bus stop. I crossed the street in hopes to pass by quickly with a wave instead of encouraging any conversation.  As we got closer, I could tell they were deep in their own conversation and we'd likely pass without interruption.

But as we passed, one of them stopped mid-sentence, looked over and said, "Hey.  Don't worry.  It will all be okay."

He stopped for a beat and I nearly cried.  How could he know I needed to hear that?!

Then he said, "All of this.  It will pass.  I've been around longer than you and seen crazy things happen in this world. Right now, might be the craziest I've seen.  But it's okay. You...and your...is that your daughter?"

"Yes, two daughters." I said.

"Ah, yes.  I see now.  Well, you and your beautiful daughters will be fine. In fact, they'll probably grow up and change this world."

I could barely get the words "thank you" out before I started crying - but a few steps later, I could breathe ever-so-slightly easier.

Notes from a toddler

Zoë and I were playing this afternoon and I thought I was doing a good job of taking sneak-peeks at my phone.

She was inventing stories of her "baby's" day at school and asking my opinion on her doll's backpack choice and what she should have for lunch.

I thought I was playing along nicely and then she stopped mid-sentence as she was explaining the doll's outfit.

"Mom."

"Yeah?" I answered, admittedly with my eyes on my phone.

"Mom!"

"Yeah?!" I said again.

She reached over and put her hand between me and my phone.

"Mom, look up."

My heart melted a teeny bit and I quickly put my phone behind my back.  She stared at me for a second and then said, "I like it better when you look up."

Ugh. Totally valid.