This morning began like any other. Our daughter Q awoke at the butt-crack of dawn and I stumbled out of bed to get her, noting faintly that going to bed at 230 and getting up at 5 is not good for one’s general health and wellbeing. We returned to bed where she began her ritual dawn serenade of ABC and Twinkle Twinkle before a miracle happened.
Just then, Gregory, my sleep-through-anything-husband arose from bed, took Q from my arms and proceeded to do the morning march of breakfast, mess, teeth cleaning, mess, dressing, tantrum, puzzle playing, follow-up tantrum while I slept the sleep of the working mother. How do working parents do it? My hair is falling out, my nails aren’t growing and I’ve got acne worse than I had as a teenager. I’m falling apart. The mama needs some sleep! And then he drove her to daycare where she spends the morning reeking havoc before I pick her up at lunch time and wrestle her to sleep.
I arose shortly thereafter, distressed at not having kissed Q goodbye, but worked through my pain with a freshly made coffee and PB & J on one of Andy’s muffins.
I opened the computer to tackle the reservations and my phone rang. It was daycare. Q was distressed and hadn’t stopped crying for me since Gregory had dropped her off. I left my half-eaten muffin by the computer, didn’t bother to put powder on to cover my teenage acne and raced to daycare to get her.
I sprinted through the door, out to the play area and there she is in the sandpit playing trucks. She sees me and runs over, diving into my arms like we hadn’t just seen each other less than 3 hours ago. The tears stopped instantly and the clinging began.
It appears my little friend just wanted a bit of her mother’s attention.
And so we left daycare, wandered over to The Grounds conveniently located just across the road, the perfect location for some good old fashioned mum-and-bub time. I bought us a muffin (excellent nutrition, I know) and we spent the next hour or so talking to the chickens, not throwing rocks in the fountain (i’ll admit Q got a few sneaky throws in before I could stop her, I’m sorry Grounds staff, I didn’t see the sign until too late) and listening to U2 tell me it’s a beautiful world.
In the back of my mind was the ever growing ‘to-do’ list, the unacknowledged reservations, the confirmations required before tonight’s service, the laundry, Q’s dinner, the bills and the sundry other things that slip out of my grasp ever day of my life.
But you know what? God willing the reservations will be there tomorrow – as will the no-shows I suppose. Laundry ain’t ever going to cease. Ditto the vacuuming, the mopping and the dusting. (Although I will admit dusting is a job I reserve only for moments of complete self-flagellation).
But moments in the sunshine with the greatest treasure in my world? Kisses into her sweet neck and terrible renditions of incy wincy spider? That’s the stuff this life is made of. And it just made my day.
So stop and smell the blood and bone friends. Abandon your responsibilities and kick about in the sunshine. Bono is right, it is indeed a beautiful world.