Just Be

I think any mother will testify to the fact that it can be a huge challenge to take young children out into the world on an ordinary afternoon when errands need running. I've certainly experienced this; we've left more than one store because Suzannah had just had it, due to being tired, or overstimulated, or just a young little sprout in a world made for big people.

But usually, I really love having her with me. I always have. It's not always easier, of course -- it's never easier, actually. Alone, I can buzz in and out of a store (I am so not a shopper) and be done. I can be quick and efficient. But there is nothing particularly special or enjoyable about running errands alone, save for those times when I feel like I just need a moment of clear headspace somewhere and Matt keeps Suzannah while I go out, but then, that's not about the errands or anything I need to get done. It's just about needing a moment to clear my head.

I needed to buy sheets today. My favorite sheets -- our red ones -- are completely threadbare, so I've been planning to head out and buy some replacements before I have to change the bed again. Instead of running around after school and leaving Suzannah at T.'s house a little longer (which she wouldn't mind, as she is always happily engaged in reading or outside play or dress-up with her friends when I pick her up), I decided to go this morning and take her with me. What would have been a quick jaunt turned into a few hours of just -- being out in the world with my girl. The sheets were really the least of it, an afterthought tagged on at the very end before we headed home.

And it's not like we did anything extraordinary. It was actually a very ordinary shopping trip. We drove to the Supermall; we ate lunch together in the food court; we watched the kids ride on the carousel; we wandered around a bit; we had coffee (she had milk) at Seattle's Best -- and then we picked up our sheets. That's really all.

But I found myself just enjoying it. Just being. I held Suzannah on my hip so she could see a little better as we watched the kids ride the carousel and she pointed out the different animals -- "That's a zebra! That's a bunny! That's a rooster!" She wrapped her arms around me and rested her cheek against mine, and standing right there in the middle of all the bustle of a Saturday at the mall, I thought, this is good, this moment, this life. Instead of walking by myself with my hazelnut toffee mocha in hand (which was not as delicious as the picture made it look), I sat across from my three-year-old daughter and we smiled at each other and talked about things we saw -- a sweet little preview, I imagine, of having conversations over lunch or coffee with her as she grows older. We wandered into Bath and Body Works and she wanted to smell everything. ("Mm, that smells good," she'd say every time I held a bottle of lotion to her nose.) At Bed, Bath and Beyond she very seriously helped me pick out sheets and imitated me when I touched all the pillowcases they have hanging from the shelves to demonstrate what this threadcount vs. that threadcount feels like. (She seems to have a thing for texture, like I do.)

We bought our sheets, and we headed home. That's all. I can't explain what was so nice about it, except that being out in the world with my daughter, even if we're just eating lunch at a food court somewhere, makes everything seem colorful and new. I notice things and people in a way that I don't think I do when I'm just on a mission to get something done. And it feels good to just be.