It was a day for Big Wheels and windbreakers.
By Amy L. Hatch
The gods were listening to my plea last week, it turns out.
I have an unexpected two-week furlough from work, and while the news was a little unsettling at first, it isn’t all bad. I get to slow down a little, take some time to spend with my son. The weather seems to be taking a positive turn and there are parks to play in and walks around the neighborhood to take.
So this morning I took things slow, trying to breathe deeply and enjoy the small moments. I played cars with my boy and we wore our pajamas until 10 a.m. When he looked up and noticed that the sun was in his eyes, he started begging to go outside and play.
So we did.
And it was glorious, this feeling of being unfettered. The world was our oyster! The park was our paradise — or at least it was before we slid right into a giant puddle at the end of a twisty slide. Normally this would have made me frantic: Wet pants! We don’t have time to go home and change and come back! Our outing is ruined! OH THE GUILT!
Instead, I bundled the boy back in his car seat and promised we would come right back and play. It turns out he didn’t want to, and we spent the next few hours before nap time exploring our own back yard, looking for bugs and drawing with chalk wet from the previous week’s rain. I followed his small legs and his lead, doing whatever struck his fancy.
We ate lunch, together at the table. I didn’t have to murmur and cluck at him from the kitchen counter, trying to pound out a few more sentences in order to make my deadlines. I was a mother, pure and simple. When he rubbed his eyes and asked for his blue blankie, I tucked him in and did some household chores I’ve neglected for weeks.
For the first time in months, my shoulders relaxed.
I’ve longed to be a working writer again for many, many years. I missed the pace and the excitement of being a reporter. While I might not be the traditional newswoman I once imagined I would be, I still like getting the story and I like telling it even better. I don’t think I could stop, even if a windfall of cash dropped in my lap.
But this opportunity to put the words and stories on hold for a little while feels precious, indeed, when my son looks up at me with bright blue eyes that ask what fun we can have next.
My paycheck might be a little lighter this month, but so, I think, will be my heart.
Amy L. Hatch is a co-founder of chambanamoms.com, and she prefers to play indoors. She writes “From There to Here,” a column about being a Northeastern girl on the prairie, on Tuesdays. You can reach her at amy@chambanamoms.com.
