Being a parent, and I mean, really being a parent – or, really being a single parent with no other default person to depend on – 24 hours a day is challenging. No nanny. No daycare. No family to call. No partner to support you.
In my daily life every diaper is mine. Every tear is mine. Every whine of discontent. Every sleepless night. Every bath. All mine. Tucked under my huge umbrella of momma-hood, right next to working and laundry and staying sane.
It was 9pm. Avery had spent the past few hours at a garden party with her friend Kerry. I spent the bulk of her time away lounging in bed, catching up on some emails and reading a few blogs – but there was nothing remarkable about it. I was actually a bit disappointed in how little enjoyment I was having during this unexpected break. It wasn’t until I walked out the door to pick Avery up that a chain of events, so simple in their individual nature, would combine to create a half hour of incredible, freeing, reprieve.
At 9pm the sky was dark. I haven’t been outside after dark in six months. With a meltdown time of 6pm, Avery makes sure sunsets and twilight aren’t part of my recent memory. Rain had been gently falling for the past hour, and when I walked outside I was met with a cool mugginess reminiscent of south Florida in the winter. I wrapped myself in a thin cotton cardigan and smiled as my feet sidestepped the small puddles around my van.
Turning on the ignition, I needed to not only use my wipers, but to had turn on my headlights. The memory required to find the switch gave me a pang of nostalgia. Stopping at the local gas station, I didn’t have to worry about a squealing baby in the backseat. I simply got out and pumped gas with a stress level of zero. Then I suddenly had the urge for ice cream. So I went and bought a Magnum Gold Bar in the convenience store. And that’s really it.
But the perfect storm of simple elements had combined into this moment of absolute happiness.
The dark sky, and the cool, muggy air, the freedom to walk into a quicke mart and buy an ice cream bar and eat that ice cream bar while having the windows rolled down, blasting the radio made me feel such an appreciation of that exact moment. Of absolute happiness.
Before having Avery I was consumed with my own selfishness. My life was all about me. Or the person I was dating. Or where I was going for brunch. Or what my plans for the weekend were. Those days, those frivolous days of pre-parenthood.
After I picked Avery up, and we began to drive home, another feeling came over me. Of how having her in my life makes me generally so much more appreciative of everything. Without her I wouldn’t have had such a happiness, such a fondness for such an small moment.