Nothing keeps one quite in the moment like a toddler.
And I’m not even getting all Hallmark on you- when I’m with my daughter Nora, looking away for even a few seconds can (and often will) result in something being submerged, set aflame, or airborne. And that’s while we’re doing puzzles.
I’ve always been a multi-tasker. My ‘to do’ lists have sidebar notes…with more lists. I once wrote a notation to start a new list. But Nora pretty much put the kibosh on all of that once she became mobile. Oh, sure, I can do a rough clean of the room in which we’re playing between securing blanket tents and refilling sippy cups, and when I’m writing she’s quite content to play with her books and ponies. Until she’s not.
Her newest Big Girl favorite is to eat lunch at the table. No high chair, no bib, just sitting in a high-backed stool with her sandwich balanced precariously between her plate and her still-too-far away mouth. To facilitate this treat, I must also be seated at the table on a Big Girl stool. When we started this trend, my first thought was that of impatience- you mean without the confines of the high chair I can no longer do the dishes/make a phone call/wipe down the counters/play a round of Bejeweled?
Nope, instead I get to sit at a table and eat a real lunch like an adult, while my gleeful daughter chatters about her sandwich and my sandwich and the birds and that song she knows and Let’s Do Cheers, Mommy. (What was wrong with me? This is the midday meal lottery I’ve just won, here.)
And sure, this In The Momentude means that- occasionally- the mopping/laundry/writing/decluttering won’t happen ’til after bedtime. (If at all.) And absolutely, it remains incredibly distressing to do a project on a crumb-covered floor while watching cat hair tumbleweeds roll on by. But at the end of the day (or at 8pm), I’d much prefer seeing that teensy handprint on the living room window and be able to recall with complete clarity how it was placed there for balance while she shrieked the news of her Dad’s arrival home.
That said, if someone wanted to come vacuum so I could enjoy some more snuggles with my kid, I certainly wouldn’t be a martyr about it.
Because while toddlerhood is fleeting, cat hair is forever.
Image: lou & magoo
