Everything We Need

This evening Miles played in the bath, tossing toys against the wall and observing their falling patterns, avidly noting the splash each produced.  Toss, whack, plunk, splash.  I sat beside the tub, trailing my arm in the water, brimful of well-being.  Thinking, we have everything we need.What produced that magical and rare feeling?  Where does it come from?  It’s more than just the sense that bills will be paid on time, food will appear in the cupboards, and our roof will keep out the weather for another day — although those are wonderful things not to be taken for granted.  This feeling I had was more: it was utter life satiety, the sense that all is as it should be.  Of course, being fickle and human, I started thinking about how the happiness would pass and that I’d better capture it, figure it out, understand it.  I wanted to pinpoint where the feeling had come from so that I could replicate it and would NEVER EVER HAVE TO NOT FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN, for goodness sake! 

Our day had been a series of simple and mostly unplanned delights.  A risky waffle recipe that turned out beautifully.  An unexpected visit with the downstairs neighbors.  An effortless levity between Robin and me, in which each of us understood the other’s meaning without the need for explanations.  Miles taking licks of his Easter bunny’s ear and saying with great enthusiasm between bites, “Mmmm!”  The pleasant sourness of the vinegar in the Easter egg dye reminding me of childhood.  A spontaneous play date on the sidewalk with two sets of neighbors and their kids, toddlers running and jostling while the adults relaxed and bounced babies and made plans.  Let’s all get together again soon!  Let’s swap child care!  No one wearing coats, all of us thrumming with the optimism of Spring.  Miles so completely covered in sidewalk chalk he seemed to be a very short, cherubic rainbow.  After dinner, reading Miles books and burying my nose in the sweaty scent of his hair.  The three of us tickling and wrestling on the bedroom rug —  hugs, love, slobber, raspberries, laughter. 

Nothing major happened.  Yet there I was at the end of the day, sitting beside the bath, wonderstruck. 

This kind of happiness, I think, can’t be forced or summoned.  Sometimes the ingredients of ordinary life get jumbled together in just the right way, and I’m wildly grateful.

Sourdough whole grain waffles.

The sweet life.

Vinegar smell.

Eggs.

Read Full Post »

A Broom of One’s Own

I remember a time when I thought stay-at-home moms must have the cleanest houses.  Because, you know, they have so much free time.  Their children play contentedly with puzzles in a designated area while they scrub, buff, polish and shine. 

Ahem. 

Cleaning with an awake and curious toddler shadowing you is like trying to brush your teeth while you’re still eating.  You’re undoing just as fast as you’re doing, if you know what I mean.  You put the blocks away; they put the blocks in the cat dish.  You sweep the Cheerios, cat litter, human hairs and mystery bits into a pile; they stand experimentally in the pile and wiggle their toes.  Then eat the Cheerios.  Then track the cat litter, human hairs, and unidentifiable bits onto the bedroom rug.  Where they proceed to lie down in the bits and roll around.

Recently, Miles has taken to wresting the broom firmly but patiently from my hand while I am sweeping and just taking over the job.  The broom is three times as tall as him, but he doesn’t let that stop him. 

Let me handle this.

He shakes his head sadly, like he cannot believe what an awful job I am doing, and bends his body to the task of dispersing detritus all over the room. 

Standing there over and over with no broom in my hand gave me an idea.  Why not get Miles his own broom?  Why not have him “help” me with all the housecleaning?  At the very worst, we would at least have dueling brooms.  And at best, he would eventually, perhaps accidentally, help.

So I got him a broom of his own.

Mr. Clean?

He likes his new little broom, but he frequently steals the big broom back for those tough jobs.  He’s quite thorough.

Sweeping under stuff is important, duh.

After that, I enlisted him to dust by handing him a rag.  He proved to have an eye for detail, scrubbing spots I might have overlooked. 

Reach!

He even polished the doorknobs.

You missed a spot.

Emboldened, I set him loose with one of my least favorite tasks: scrubbing the bath tub.  We had to use a gentle, nontoxic cleaner, which might defeat the whole purpose, but we sure had a good time.

Scrub-a-dub-tub.

Cleaning with Miles is messy, counterproductive, and silly.  I just try to remember that we’re in no hurry.  This book I read on positive discipline emphasized that toddlers love to help and that we can gain so much by inviting them to cooperate.  We’re learning, the two of us — him that taking care of your home doesn’t have to be a chore, and me how to be more patient. 

Of course, free labor comes with serious drawbacks.  My little worker often loses interest in mid-task, wandering off to pull all of the paper recycling out of the bin or chase the cat.  And, quite often, he drinks on the job.

Hitting the bottle.

Read Full Post »