The Collective Good
It’s been a minute since I’ve had a toddler. We purposefully waited to have our third, in order to finally soak up every ounce of babyhood, while the older girls entertain each other. Having two-under-two didn’t exactly lend itself to quality head-sniffing moments—so this is really the first time I’ve taken the opportunity to savor Josephine’s littleness. I’ve never tried Ecstasy, but rocking her and getting in some good head-sniffs, feels like the stuff euphoria was named for.
Somehow during lockdown, my youngest went from babyhood to toddlerhood, when no one was looking.
It’s true, mothers block out tough phases in order to get through, if we didn’t the world would be filled with only children. It’s no accident toddlers are at their most adorable at the exact moment they are their most challenging. Everything about their curiosity requires vigilant supervision.
A dryer? I need to climb in.
A fork? I bet this goes in my eye.
An electrical socket? I should probably lick it.
There is no staircase they won’t climb, or chopped up piece of fruit they won’t try to choke on.
Back when things were normal and I was having a particularly rough day, I’d load up the car and head to Costco, or the park, really anywhere with other people around. My intentions were three-fold. First, I needed help not losing my patience, and some days moms need witnesses. Secondly, and this was the best part, my daughters make strangers smile. No matter where we were, people would stop me to comment on my kids—be it their matching outfits, beauty, or their behavior (good, bad, or ugly). Lastly, and most importantly, on the really hard days, I needed to be reminded just how lucky I am.
I haven’t taken Josephine out in public since she was just over a year and yesterday, I got her alone for an outdoor coffee date. She is peaking at her most darling, with curly hair and blue eyes that will make your ovaries ache. She is spirited in the way that makes me chuckle when other people say they are tired. There was another mom, about a stone’s throw away, with a baby in front pack. I waved to her and she waved back, not knowing each other, but speaking the universal language of motherhood. I see your tiny human and look, I also made one of those! Isn’t it marvelous?
As people entered the coffee shop they were greeted by her gurgling baby and when they exited, they got a wave from my charismatic toddler. While all who passed through were wearing masks, everyone found some creative way to engage with our kids. Clapping their hands and waving--it was as if these strangers missed these tiny humans they’d never met. Like they were waiting for the world to reopen, just to get in a game of peek-a-boo.
About an hour into Josephine’s very own game of climbing-on-and-off-the-chair that made her giddy with joy, one gentleman told me, “her happiness just made my whole day.”
What a lovely thought.
I think perhaps this is what we have been craving. Yes, we were blessed to binge watch our own children for 3 months, but we were missing an in-person reminder of what it is all for.
The collective good. The collective good of humanity.
I read somewhere that the reason America isn’t recovering from COVID-19 as quickly as other countries is because we are a country that values individualism over collectivism. I so want them to be wrong.
I didn’t know the other mother with her baby by the entrance, but I was just happy to know that she was there. That she and her baby existed.
And while I know it was necessary to flatten the curve, I hope as we begin to emerge, doing everything in our power to prevent the second wave, we should stop and appreciate what a gift it is to be able to witness and participate in the next wave of humanity.
