Who wouldn’t wanna SAVOR these two?
Last Saturday morning I leaped out of bed with an enormous To Do list.
I had a few things I knew must be checked off by 530a (hold me) or I’d not be where I needed in order to slow down once the Child and The Chairman were awake.
I didn’t really mind waking so early because it allowed me to slow and savor later.
It’s how my life is structured these days and it feels (felt?) like a really great trade.
As I drank my coffee I considered these facts and began to write:
I lead a very slow existence.
Gone are the days of frantic go go go work routines.
No more are the late nights out having liquid-enhanced fun.
My first appointment of the morning is no longer with the coffee maker—but with G-d.
I savor the silence of the dawn.
I treasure the peaceful pre-day moments.
The entirety of my day unfolds with the backdrop of savor.
I peek in and watch my daughter sleep.
I savor the sight of how tiny she still looks.
I recognize how ephemeral these moments all are.
Who wouldn’t SAVOR dress-up play time?
As anticipated I didn’t get very far in my writing.
I wrote the passage above, finished my coffee, and heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Within moments I was greeted by this face (and moments after that this face freed the crated Chairman & we were off to start our day.):
And I savored.
I knew I wouldn’t return to my writing until that night, yet I didn’t mind.
“I love my life.” I reminded myself. “Some day I will have far too much time on my hands and *wish* I had an exuberant child and energetic puppy to mess with my morning!”
Later that morning the Child brought up her upcoming birthday.
I know what I want! She announced. I really want an American Girl doll that looks like me and has my hair and skin color.
Like all good Mamas of the digital age—I grabbed my iPad and immediately searched American Girl dolls.
We clicked and skimmed and scrutinized their colorings.
Too light! we dismissed some. Hmmmm too dark! she dismissed others.
As we searched I flashed forward to her birthday.
I visualized a box arriving in the mail, her ripping it open and, even though we’d checked it out online, the doll being ALL! WRONG!
“You know what, I said. Let’s GO to the American Girl store. There’s one pretty close.”
And off we went.
And I savored.
I reminded myself how tootoo soon she’d no longer care about dolls. I savored the opportunity to share this time with her.
Who wouldn’t savor this opportunity?
The store was exactly as I’d been warned.
Overpriced (not too much of a worry as Id made clear we were *not* buying that day) and somewhere an eight year old would want to stay for hours.
And stay we did.
She played, puttered, examined, and touched.
And, at first, I savored.
Who wouldn’t savor that THIS is the doll her child wanted?
And the minutes turned into an hour.
And, to be brutally honest, the savoring STOPPED.
I. Was. Over. It.
I watched as other parent-types walked right up to the door, opened it and exited.
Sweet sweet freedom. TAKE ME WITH YOU!!!! I telepathically screamed. I’m done savoring. I’m over this!! I’m wishing it away.
And it got uglier from there.
Good lord, I thought Right about now it sounds amazing to have you older, disinterested in both dolls and having anything to do with me. I’m wishing away! I’m wishing away!
And yep. It went downhill from there.
I wished away. I wanted the whole trip–even though it had been my idea–DONE.
I tried to bribe her with the purchase of a coloring book even though I’d been emphatic about no purchases (No thanks, Mama. I just want to play).
I grew obsessed with the fact I had so little down time and this was how I was wasting it.
And yes–I mentally used the word WASTING.
I started to get really, really irritated.
And then I laughed out loud.
We are a society obsessed with slow living and mindful living *and* being present *and* savoring (myself included) it felt
gutsy BRAZEN to think:
Hell yes I’m wishing this sh*t away!!! Screw the savor!
And with that I not so subtly nudged the Child away from the wheel-chaired doll, hurried her toward the door and regretted it not one bit.
I possessed an awareness only an afternoon at an American Girl store could provide:
More moments than many Mamas wanna admit are made to wish away and not to savor.
And, if I *ever* look back in nostalgia at the afternoon and “long to have it back” it will merely be because I’ve forgotten how stick-in-the eye it truly was.
And that’s OK.
I never returned to the post I started—you’re getting this one instead.
No savor. No mindful, slow living. All scr*w that. I’m over this.