An Indian couple were sitting on a bench with their backs to me, the sunlight was poking through Ava’s hair setting it on fire in short, auburn, bursts and I was fixated on what the couple was watching.
Their family, (an adult daughter, her two children and husband,) were all dressed in traditional Indian regla and they were throwing a florescent yellow Frisbee back and forth and laughing as they tripped over each other, threw the Frisbee into trees and eventually gave up just to chase one another around the small field. I think I caught a moment that perhaps I wasn’t supposed to witness, but I did- and I sat and looked at my preschooler, (who was currently singing a jumble of Kelly Clarkson and Sesame Street and I pulled her into my arms.) Because moments where my heart fills to capacity are precious and her cheeks can never be kissed enough.
We saw so many things today- butterflies with such exuberant colors that it made me wonder how beautiful everything else was should I only take the time to see, and carousel horses, capable of unleashing my inner nine-year-old. We sat on a bench at Como Zoo and downed cotton candy and giggled at the thong sandals that sat beneath the Magic Swing ride and Ava counted each pair. We shared a horse on the carousel and I closed my eyes when she tipped her head back into the crevice of my neck and shoulder. Fleeting moments of perfection- that’s what this child bestows on me.
I called my mother on the way home and like wanting to hint to a secret, I just called and asked how her night was. It was almost like a first kiss, or a fantastic report card- the urge to tell the amazing day was making me spill over with excitement. My mother listened as I went on about the day and Ava snored with her head sideways in the backseat.
When we walked out to the car from Como she told me, “Mommy- I’ll always want to be with you.” It’s humbling- because my errors as a parent are far too common. I’m strict, I lose my patience, I throw down pillows and walk out of rooms to tantrums and all too often I ‘autopilot’ and say, “Yes, honey. Sure. No, Ava,” without really listening to what she’s trying to tell me. Parental guilt is quite possibly the worst feeling known to mom and often I beg myself to refocus so I can experience days like today more. She humbles me daily because even when I don’t like me very much, (perhaps when we ran over something metal and freakishly loud on the way to the zoo and I screamed something about Christ, and having a flat tire and the tragic irony that is my life,) and she said, “MOM. I cannot hear the song.“ To which I said, “Mommy’s swearing right now, you’ll have to hold on,” and all that was audible from the backseat was an exasperated sigh. She has the patience to put up with my Mommy frustration, (yes, my tire is low,) and I have the patience to put up with a potty training, tantrums and stretch marks.
It’s unfair how this kid puts me to shame, huh?
You were lucky to have seen that Indian family. And a child is the most exasperating and beautiful gift you’ll ever receive/get yourself. But you seem to have caught on to that.
I completely agree.
With her? It’s a matter of facepalming or laughing my stilettos off. I love that kid.