On the first morning of our long-awaited family vacation, I awoke brimming with excitement. I couldn’t wait for my daughter, Mia, then three years old, to witness the ocean for the first time. A few hours later, our family of six, accompanied by 14 bags of beach paraphernalia, arrived at the beach parking lot and began our chaotic unpacking. As I turned to capture Mia’s initial gaze at the vast ocean, I instead found her joyfully splashing in a puddle in her bathing suit, completely absorbed in her own little world.
“Mia,” I called out, “let’s go see the ocean!”
“Noooooo!” she replied, not even glancing up.
“But Mia, it’s the ocean! You’ve never seen it! It’s stunning!”
“MOMMY. I AM IN THE PUDDLE RIGHT NOW. I DON’T HAVE TIME TO SEE THE OCEAN.”
Eventually, when she was ready, we awkwardly made our way to the shore. Unpacking the tents, chairs, blankets, towels, beach toys, snacks, diapers, juice boxes, books, and sunglasses took what felt like forever. By the time we finally slathered six people in an impenetrable coating of SPF 8000, I realized we probably had a mere 10 minutes of beach time before the baby would start crying, prompting a return to our overpriced beach house.
I was determined to make the most of those fleeting minutes. I sent my husband and the older kids down to the water while I laid under the beach umbrella with the baby, trying to nurse him while keeping him out of the sun, the sand out of his mouth, and my modesty intact.
The beach was bustling, and I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation from a group of young women nearby. They were discussing summer jobs and life choices when one girl mentioned babysitting part-time for a family.
“They pay me well, but it’s tough work. I’m so tired when I get home,” she said.
“I bet,” her friend responded. “What do you have to do?”
“I make the food, feed them, and clean up. Sometimes I take them to the park or even the grocery store.”
“Wow. It’s like you’re their mom.”
“I know, right? It’s exhausting.” She took a long sip of her drink. “I think I might ask for a raise.”
I couldn’t help but snicker, which made the baby unlatch and resulted in me inadvertently flashing the nearest families on the beach. I glanced at the girl; she was stunning, lounging comfortably in a tiny bikini, free of any parenting responsibilities. Her life appeared to be full of possibilities, as she chatted with friends without a care in the world.
I felt a twinge of jealousy. While I once spent my mornings contemplating life’s endless opportunities, I now found myself caught in the never-ending cycle of parenting tasks. There are days when I barely lift my eyes from my responsibilities, and I have to remind myself to take a breath. Like Mia, I often feel too busy wading through the daily chaos to appreciate the vast ocean of possibilities around me.
As I contemplated walking over to the girl and advising her to relish her carefree moments, I realized my own time was quickly running out. I had a baby in my arms and sand to shake out of my own spaces. So, after hauling the 14 bags of beach gear back to the car, I buckled the little ones in and made my way back to Mia’s puddle.
I took a running leap and jumped right in. Guess what? She was absolutely right. It was awesome in there.
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In summary, my toddler’s perspective has taught me the invaluable lesson of embracing the present moment. Instead of yearning for what lies ahead, I’m learning to appreciate the joy found in simple pleasures, even if it means jumping into a puddle.