Taking one for the team

As I was folding yet another load of laundry today, Josephine spotted a chocolate peanut butter cup that had been left behind from the night before. She brought it over to me and said, "Mom, what's this? I should eat it."

"Oh. No, Josephine, let's not eat that one, it's yucky."

Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was going to let her have it. Mostly because I didn't have the energy to rationalize and convince her otherwise. But as she kept asking me and started to unwrap it, I was still trying to explain it was a "yucky one and she wouldn't like it."

She had moved on to sniffing it and assuring me she understood, but she should try it anyway.

I gave in quickly and said, "Okay, go ahead. You can have it."

She took her first bite with a little hesitancy and stared right at me. So serious...like it was a science experiment. Her face went from slightly concerned to immediate joy and she said, "Mom. I loooove this."

I smiled and nodded and told her I was glad she liked it. She finished it in few bites as she danced around mismatched socks and stacks of pajamas. As she licked her fingers and started to walk away, she suddenly stopped, turned around and put her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were very serious and her tone mimicked an adult teaching a lesson.

"Mom, I can eat the yucky ones for you and Daddy. If you find yucky ones, just tell me. I'll eat them."

I laughed harder than I intended to and I could tell she liked seeing me laugh and giggled along with me, but then she got very serious again and said, "You just tell me, okay? You find yucky ones, I eat them."

Stolen

These aren't my words, but I read them out-loud to my kids tonight and they left my mouth, enveloped my heart and warmed my stomach in a way they never had before.

The words invited me to give myself permission to be who I am in every millisecond of my crazy day. Without judgement. Without question.

Quick as Cricket
by Audrey Wood
illustrated by Don Wood

I'm as quick as a cricket,
I'm as slow as a snail,
I'm as small as an ant, 
I'm as large as a whale.

I'm as sad as a basset,
I'm as happy as a lark,
I'm as nice as a bunny, 
I'm as mean as a shark.

I'm as cold as a toad,
I'm as hot as a fox,
I'm as weak as a kitten,
I'm as strong as an ox.

I'm as loud as a lion, 
I'm as quite as a clam, 
I'm as tough as a rhino, 
I'm as gentle as a lamb.

I'm as brave as a tiger,
I'm as shy as a shrimp,
I'm as tame as a poodle,
I'm as wild as a chimp.

I'm as lazy as a lizard,
I'm as busy as a bee,
Put it all together,
And you've got ME!

Apologies

Zoë and Josephine were building a fort around our dining room table and climbing in and out from underneath. I was out of sight, washing dishes or some other fun task.

I heard a pretty loud "bonk" and Josephine immediately said, "Sorree."

Zoë responded, "That's okay, you didn't make me hit the table. I did it myself."  There was a brief pause and then she said, "I mean, I should probably say sorry to myself...

Sorry self. I didn't mean to hurt you."

There was so much sincerity in her voice and it was such a simple apology. It made my heart burn and I realized I need to say those very words to myself much more often.

So long, farewell, good-bye

After a long afternoon of swimming at a friend's house, we had said our farewells and the girls had given multiple hugs and fist bumps.

As we pulled away, our host gave us one final wave and we all returned the gesture. I'm not sure what it is about one final wave after a lengthy goodbye, but it's kind of the best. 

Proceed with caution

There was a weird power outage today and a handful of traffic lights were out in downtown Santa Cruz. It made for a long trip across town, but in and amongst a little frustration, I realized we were all working together as a team.

And I liked it.

We all had to make eye contact with the person across the intersection and then check in with our lane partner to sort of proceed as a team. No one honked or raised their fist in the air. We all just calmly, collectively made it work.

I realize its common knowledge that we, as a society, connect less and less. And even though thats a bit depressing, it does make all the little connections that much sweeter.

Oh, teenagers

The girls and I were killing time in between ballet and swim class and decided to do some window shopping downtown. I was letting them get a few feet ahead of me so they could pretend to be on their own. At some point, a teenager sauntered in between us with his hands in pockets, head down, hoodie up. He was definitely too cool for us and the girls swerved in and out around his legs as he passed by us.

Just as he was passing Josephine, she took off running toward the edge of the sidewalk, close to the road. Our teenager didn't miss a beat. He took one side step and pivoted around at the same time. He reached one arm out to stop my tiny one just as she took a 90 degree turn back toward us. 

He never changed his cool expression and just turned around and kept walking.

As we passed, I said thank you and he just raised his hand and nodded his head.

I love when people remind me to never judge a book by it's cover

Truth

We went to a ZZ Top concert tonight. I can’t say that I’m a huge fan, but live-music-no-kids…yes, please.

Waiting in line to go through the metal detector, I overheard the security officer say, “Man, last night it was knives and flasks setting these off. Tonight, it’s just fake body parts.”

She said it so matter of factly and was a little confused when everyone giggled. She tried to back pedal a little and apologize but then she just said, “I mean, the truth is the truth.”

Oh, joy.

There was a Dancing in the Streets event in downtown Santa Cruz tonight. And, as always, it's a struggle to gather enough snacks, jackets and children to go anywhere. Ever. Sometimes I give up before I even start and end up missing all the things. But tonight, all the stars aligned.

And thank goodness they did.

There were kids doing ballet, adults tap dancing and even a magical Balinese woman who stared directly into my soul as she danced. Dancing has always brought joy to my life but tonight was a moment that's been building for years. Years of babies, lockdowns and emotions. The cumulative joy of the dancers, the bystanders and my little dancing girls practically lifted me off my feet.

I am so grateful for music and community. And Josephine's little booty shake.

Theater of the mind

Driving home yesterday, I was slightly annoyed by the commercial on the radio.  I wasn't actually listening to the content, but the man's voice was driving me crazy. Zoë and Josephine were uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat and suddenly Zoë piped up, "Mom!"

"Yes, Zoë."

"Did you just hear in that story? They said Josephine!!"

The voice had actually said "Joseph", but that's beside the point. I couldn't help but smile about her choice of words and the thought of an annoying ad being a story in her mind.

It also reminded me of an old advertising axiom my dad loved to remind everyone one of: radio is the theater of the mind. 

I suppose some advertisers still live by that.

Normal

Santa Cruz still feels like a ghost town sometimes.  Even over a year into all of this. But tonight, I saw teeny glimpse into a life more normal.

I pulled up to a stoplight and noticed two twenty-something girls standing in front of a restaurant awkwardly trying to take a selfie. They were struggling to get the restaurant sign and both their faces in the photo. I was watching them in a daze, slightly amused, when I realized the guy in front of me was sort of heckling them.  I couldn't hear what he was saying, but all of a sudden he did a quick a U-turn and pulled up to the curb.  He hopped off his bike, grabbed their phone, took a great photo, high-fived them and managed to turn back around before the light turned green.

It filled my heart with so much warmth I almost teared up. I realized it had been entirely too long since I'd seen spontaneous human connection and strangers being kind to one another.

Birds and the Bees

My little one is three years old and, of course, overflowing with questions. 

Today's big one: "Mom, I know you had a baby in your tummy, but HOW does the baby get in your tummy?"

"Well, Daddy helped put a baby in my tummy."

"Oh. But how did he put it in there?"

I will spare you the details, but I did my best to briefly and easily explain how it works. She seemed relatively interested and processed some of it, but then returned to jumping off my bed showing me how she could "land with no hands!".

Then she stopped and said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...but how do you find the husband?"

Super valid. Definitely the hardest part of the equation. 

Trees, thank you.

On our way to school everyday, Zoë re-enacts a handful of pretend scenarios. I’m a bear, she comes to visit my cave. I’m Teacher Samantha, she’s Teacher Samantha’s son. Or we pretend we’re flying in Dad’s plane to see Papaw and Memo. “Not tooooo high, Dad!”

Today was a little different. She was oddly quiet and then softly spoke up.

“Mom? I need to tell the trees something.”

“Okay.”

“Trees?” She paused briefly as if waiting for them to respond. “Trees, thank you for blocking the sun. When we drive past you, you keep the sun out of my eyes. Thank you.”

Her appreciation made me take a moment to thank them as well. For their beauty and for their resilience this year.

Heart. Melted.

At the end of today (living in 2020/21 as a baseline - something we can all agree is already a low bar), I struggled through witching-hour meltdowns, dinner time negotiations and never-ending dirty dishes.  

I made it to the finish line of bedtime and transitioned right into having a tame argument with my husband while I made "adult dinner".  All while listening to our youngest cry it out as she fell asleep. We've come accustomed to tuning it out.  (And, realistically, it never lasts longer than 4 minutes.)  But tonight, the four minutes felt especially long.  

As mothers do, I was watching butter melt to the perfect consistency to pan fry fish, explaining my frustration to my husband and "sink-defrosting" said fish-to-be-cooked.  All while in the background hearing my toddler start singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to the screaming baby.

And that's when it broke. My heart. 

My sweet, albeit <sometimes> annoying  three-year-old was being so sweet. So genuine. So helpful.

My girl. My heart. My love.

Validation

 Picking up kids from school is the best. On a good day, they run to you with arms wide open and scream: "Mahhhm!"

Today was extra special though. I showed up as Zoë's teacher was asking her to help clean up. She started to run out of the yard to say hello and her teacher reminded her to finish helping. She agreed and started gathering all the balls to put them back in their bucket.

As she gathered, she said, "Hi Mom! I'm helping."

"Good job, Zoë. Good teamwork."

"Yeah, I know, Mom. Hey mom, did you bring my fruit snack I wanted?"

"Yep, it's in the car"

"Yay! You remembered!"

"Sure did."

There was a small pause as she reached down to grab the last ball. As she stood up...she stopped, looked right at me and in the most genuine voice I have ever heard from my child, she said, "You're a great mom."

I giggled at first; as you do at all things toddlers say. But she just stared at me.

My heart warmed and I could feel a tiny space fill with much-needed light. I had no idea I needed to hear it. 

But I did. 

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.

The Post Office: Best Place in Mojave

I stopped by the post office today (after being gone for a week) and ended up with a few more packages than I expected.  Instead of leaving a few behind so I could come back later, I started trying to load them all into the stroller.  I pulled Zoë out and replaced her with a box of wine.  I stuffed the undercarriage with four boxes in a configuration Tetris aficionados would be proud. Then I balanced one box on top of the canopy.  The last box I'd have to hold under my right arm while I balanced Zoë on my left hip and held June's leash in a combo grip with the stroller handle.

A gentleman coming in as I was leaving asked if he could help.  He offered to grab June and the box I was holding and help me get down the ramp I was failing to navigate.

"Thank you so much.  If you can just get us down this ramp, I'll be fine."

He followed me down and asked where my car was.  I explained I was walking home, but it was only a block and I'd be totally fine.

"Don't be ridiculous. Let me help you.  My dog is in the car, so let's stop, I'll turn on the AC and then I can help you get home."

Having a stranger follow you home in Mojave isn't a decision my husband would approve of, but I couldn't turn down his generosity.

He checked on his dog, grabbed the box of wine and two other boxes so I could put Zoë back in the stroller and then said, "Lead the way."

On the way home he told me about his job, his wife, his commute to LA and the notion that he had done a good deed today so karma would allow him to be a jerk the rest of the day.

Thanks, Mojave.

Flying Money

This morning as I was pulling out of my driveway, there was a car stopped in the middle of the intersection and a woman was starting to get out of the driver's seat.  I slowed down to assess the situation and realized she was frantically running after some money blowing in the wind.

At first, it didn't phase me.  Things blow in the wind ALL. THE. TIME. in Mojave.  Then I thought, "Let it go, lady."  But she stuck with it and I slowly passed by her, smiled and yelled, "Good luck!".

As I made it to the next intersection, I could see in my rearview mirror a man standing on the corner with a wad of money in his hand a bewildered look on his face.

The woman ran back past her car and handed him the money.

Thank you for the surprise act of kindness, citizen of Mojave - the town usually devoid of neighborliness.