Something Sweet. Something Special.
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I am not a word snob. No. I like words of all shapes and sizes and levels of pretension. I do.
It’s just that I’ve never been a fan of the word special.
Not until last night.
Last night was big. A big night out. With Toddler.
There was a pajama party at Preschool. After missing Toddler’s pizza and pajama birthday party thanks to my untimely bout of swine, I was not going to miss this one. Because I was not sure whether little Toddler would want to be dropped off in the evening hours and left alone with her pajama-clad peers, I volunteered to work at the event so that I could be there with her. It was a grand plan.
And it was a busy day. Thursdays tend to be my busiest. I buzzed around this fine city, in and out of dates and meetings, chirping ceaselessly on my cell about real estate (we have an offer on our apartment!) and real life (my tiny newborn nephew was in the ER). Anyway, I hightailed it home in the late afternoon for my most important appointment of the day. My appointment with Toddler.
There she was, in her purple and green froggie PJs, sporting fabulous pigtails only Nanny can finagle. Her smile was vast as she ran toward me. And then we ran off to school for the festivities. We arrived in the school gym and promptly realized that the vast majority of the kids were older. There was only one little boy from her class. But Toddler, sheepish and brave, spread her orange blanket by the other kids to watch “Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs.”
For about thirty seconds. The volume wasn’t really sufficient and the kids were rowdy. Toddler clung to me a bit. Fellow parents started handing out pieces of pizza. One child refused pizza. Yup. Toddler.
We made our way to the little crafts table on the other side of the gym where Toddler got to work making a mask. It was one of those little black Zorro-esque masks and when she scratched the surface of the paper with a stick, rainbows appeared. Black magic. I smiled. A relic from my own childhood. When she finished her mask, she asked that I put it on her. And so I did. It was a nice complement to the pigtails. Who cared that it basically covered her eyes? Not Toddler.
Despite asking her several times if she wanted me to hold her mask in my bag, she said no. And then she declared that she wanted to make a mask to bring home to her sister. I smiled as she scratched some more black magic. And then she made a little car keychain. I asked if she wanted to watch some more of the movie and sit with the other kids, but no. She wanted to do her own thing. And she insisted on making a star keychain for her baby sister. More mommy smiles.
When she tired of the arts and crafts, she hopped up. And looked around. As much as she could through that poor-visibility mask. And then she started running around the gym, a skip in her step. I stood back and smiled. And then a fellow parent, the only dad in attendance, the only PJ-clad adult in attendance, organized a story time. And cookies emerged. Toddler cuddled on my lap and listened intently to stories. And helped herself to four cookies. A mother next to me looked over and said, Wow. And I shrugged my shoulders and muttered some mommy apology: Guess I’m a bad mom. I try, but she is not the best eater. And she loves cookies.
And then the same daddy organized a genius game of Freeze Dance. The kids bogeyed down. When the music stopped, the children did their best (and hilarious) impressions of statues. Toddler did this wacky and amazing dance where she marched like a soldier/robot and spun around in a circle. On the sidelines, I could not stop laughing. This was fun.
And then when things got a tad out of control, this inventive father miraculously got all the kids to sit in a cluster on the gym floor. He told them that they were going to have a “quiet and thoughtful time” or something like that. Remarkably, the kids obliged. The father explained that they were going to go around and that each child was to introduce him or herself and say something that made him or her special.
Special.
The kids were fantastic. One boy stood and said he was special because “he goes to the grocery store and gets stuff.” Another boy said he was special because “he is in to Star Wars.” One girl said she was special because “her brother liked Star Wars.” On the periphery, we parents chuckled. And I didn’t think savvy and sassy Toddler would be into this exercise in sharing feelings, but boy was I wrong. Each and every time, she raised not one hand, but both and stood, jumping up and down. She desperately wanted this man to call on her.
And he didn’t. Because, as is par for the course with wee ones, distraction set in and it was on to the next thing. Soon, it was time for us to leave and I scooped up my sugar-soaked and sleepy babe and we headed out.
In the lobby of her school, as I zipped her purple coat, I asked.
“Honey, what were you going to say if you were called on? What’s your something special?”
And she looked up at me, blue eyes bright through that black magic mask, and said, “I’m special because I want to share all my toys with my sister.”
And I smiled. Wow did I smile. And I suffocated her with a hug. And I pushed her pigtail from her ear and I said, “Babe, that is so so special.”
And so. It was a night. A night of moments. Moments in which I glimpsed a little person doing her thing. Moments in which I glimpsed goodness, pure and unadulterated goodness. And, for me, this was major. Monumental. Because this parenting thing? It’s a guessing game. A constant exercise in improvisation. Parenthood is a land where we so often flail and fail and wonder whether we are doing anything right.
But in that moment last night, in that series of moments, I saw it. Clear as day. I am doing something right. Something very right.
I am raising a good kid.
And so. I wanted to get this down. This little story. This big realization. Because both will fade. With time, they will lose their hue and evaporate in the good air of this good world. And I don’t want this to happen. And so. I am sorry that I am not regaling you with something spicy or something sexy today.
Today? Today I memorialize something sweet.
Something special.
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- Have there been moments, random moments, when you have realized that you are doing a good job as a person, as a professional, as a parent?
- Have there been moments when you were able to glimpse uncomplicated goodness in someone you know?
- Do you ever feel compelled to scribble down simple stories – and the sentiments that come with them – so that you can remember more fully and look back?
- If you are a parent, are you constantly doubting whether you are doing things right?
- Anyone else feed their kids four cookies for dinner?
This reminds me of a “Girls Night Out” I went to with my my oldest daughter, who is now 8, at her preschool when she was 4. I have the loveliest memory from that evening. There were stations set up for the little girls to get their nails, makeup, and hair done, craft tables, and snacks. But my sweet little girl had no interest in getting herself all prettied up by the volunteers. All she wanted to do was play with Mommy. So she did my hair and painted my nails (toes included)and we won first place for some category which I can’t remember now what it was. I remember we were the only mother-daughter pair that spent our time this way and it was one of those moments where it was just about the two of us. I haven’t thought about that night in a long time. Thank you for reminding me!
By the way, there is a little ode to you (and link to ILI) on the ‘About’ page of my blog. You’re awesome
That IS special. And even more special is the memory that you made with her and the one you wrote. Because it does fade. I didn’t take enough pictures, or fill scrapbooks, or record every precious thought…but I did live it and that is special.
Thank you for sharing.
Enjoy the day!
Erin
That is so, well, sweet and special! =)
I jot down all sorts of little stories in a journal for my boys…it’s the random things that are so special! Like the day he told me that when he grew up he wanted to be…Batman. And Daddy could be Spiderman. And I could be the princess trapped in a tower and they would save me. That sounded like an excellent career choice.
ANd some nights, I give my kids pancakes for dinner. There’ve been a couple of times where M&Ms were the staple, too.
You are raising a great kid – make that, a special kid. Such a sweet, amazing, wonderful post. Don’t apologize for noticing the beauty in these simple moments. No spice needed here! Loved this post!
Awwww! That is so sweet! You are indeed raising a sweet and good girl. I love how you write about your girls. I would love to go to a slumber party type thing like that w/ my girl.
It sounds like a wonderful night with your daughter!
And a big kick in the nose to the woman who just HAD to remark on Toddler’s cookie consumption. You are the mom and you make the decisions. That lady can suck it. Grr.
Toddler is so special! And she has one incredible mommy to accompany her to the pj party. I’m in love with this post.
My 9 month old didn’t eat at all yesterday, so when I was eating a cookie at 1AM and she was up (with a fever, not just because I’m a bad mom!), I let her share it with me. At least she had something in her tummy, right?
My daughter loves cookies too! (Her first sentence was “I want a cookie.”) I just look at it this way–she enjoys the sweet things in life! Can’t argue with that, right? (Hey, I try to get her to like other things. I promise.)
As for moments, I catch a glimpse of them most days. My daughter loves to share with her brother. It shows me how sweet a person she is and will be.
Beautiful story, Aidan. The word “special” has seemed funny to me ever since Dana Carvey did the Church Lady (”Isn’t that special!”) on SNL. It’s a great word, really. Your daughter, you, daughter #2, handsome husband, LAY, new home, your life… all of it is quite special. Enjoy.
Aidan you are amazing! I love how you tell a story. I have to agree, one of my greatest pleasures as a mother is watching my children interact with other kids. I soak it up whenever I get the chance. I usually just want to sit in a corner and watch. It AMAZES me. What also amazes me is the things they say, how sweet, simple and intelligent they are. Like you, I want to protect that innocence forever. I’m so glad you had this time with her and I’m so glad you shared the story with us.
Oh, that Precious Little One just redefined that word. Forever.
That is incredibly Special. Capitalized.
Aidan, Thank you so much for this post. I loved reading it. I *just* discovered your blog thanks to Gretchen Rubin (happiness project) and Delia Lloyd (read delia) (I’ve been following them and loving their blogs as well). I am not a mom yet but I imagine that parenting is one of the hardest things I’ll do as there are no rules (and I am a very by the rules person!). Thanks again for sharing your experiences. I can’t wait to read your book!! – Amy
Welcome to ILI, Amy! Gretchen and Delia are both fantastic and I am thrilled that you found your way here through them. Yes, parenting is a big, bad guessing game but it is also the most wonderful place I’ve been. It’s amazing how much it tests you and changes you and makes you the best person you can be. This sounds so cheesy, really cheesy, but it is so true. I can’t wait for you to read LIFE AFTER YES either. It hits shelves in a little more than two months and I am getting a wee bit anxious – and very excited! – about that fact. I do hope you continue to pop by this neck of the woods and leave your thoughtful words when so inclined!
That is absolutely special. You brought a tear to my eye.
I love that Toddler had an answer at the ready and that she was equally eager to share it with you. I find it a bit sad that as we get older we become reluctant to identify and acknowledge the things that make us special. We each bring unique and fabulous things into this world of ours, and we should be proud of that. Kudos to Toddler for understanding what makes her great. And kudos to you for nurturing those things within her.
oh my, my eyes teared up right there as I was reading. That’s the sweetest thing ever. Thanks for sharing.
I think slowly over the past few years, I have become more confident about who I am in general. In my twenties, I was perenially convinced that everyone knew more than I did. For me, my thirties have been about coming into my own, as a professional, as a parent, as a person. I am proud of many things I have done in my life but there is a special feeling that comes from seeing my children’s obvious love for one another. They look out for each other and are known to be friends with their entire class. I’d like to think part of who they are comes from good parenting on the parts of my husband and I but I suspect that we are also beyond lucky that they were born as profoundly good and easygoing.
Oh and btw, no cookies for dinner here but we have been known to have ice cream for dinner with cookies on the side!
Yummy story and yummy cookies. (As a woman who regularly eats cookies for breakfast, I can get behind a four cookie dinner. Especially if there was chocolate milk afterward.)
And I’m with Christine: as beautiful as this anecdote was, what was really magical was the way you told the story. Sparkling, perfect details.
Can’t wait for Life After Yes!
Can I tell you – I’m a regular cookies for breakfast person myself. Nothing better than chocolate chip on the morning palate! Mmmm, mmm.
Sexy and spicy?? A dime a dozen.
But something sincerely real and sweet? Very hard to come by.
Thank you. Such a good tale.
Oh, how I love when they’re “sheepish and brave” (and pigtailed) all at the same time! And I will take cookies over pizza any day of the week, too. So glad you shared this with us.
you are so lucky to have this website so you will never forget these “special” moments but for the life of me I can’t remember Sh%&!
I do remember letting Kyle’s entire pre-school class SLIME me with the secret recipe to Slime! But I’m not sure that made me a good parent, just a popular one!
I kinda want to know who the cool dad was, too. Maybe he has a blog?
These poignant moments are all the sweeter for how rarely it occurs to us to step back and think, “this is worth remembering. This is worth telling.”
Our little girls just won’t stay little, Aidan. My firstborn is going to be ten this year. Today she asked me why a condom would go on a banana. I am trying really hard to reconcile this child-woman with the little girl in pigtails who made me promise that when she came out of the doors on her very first day of school I would still be there, waiting for her, and I just can’t do it some days.
Aidan, I’m totally a “bad mommy” too when it comes to food. I’m simply not going to make a huge deal out of sweets. Also, my husband, the sugar hound, fights them for every morsel. It can get pretty intense.
I will say, as far as special moments, I’ve had some stuff happen lately where I realize that, despite some very rough periods, my kids seem to be coming along quite well. My son has rousing political discussions with me, loves history, and is quite well-spoken, and my daughter, besides speaking like a college professor at age ten, also has a way of assessing what is true to her innermost self that is amazing. I mean, I know I taught her that by telling her about a few of the mistakes I made not listening to my innermost self, but it’s great hearing her be so self-assured and confident at such a young age!
A four cookie dinner? Sign me up! Think about it – probably all the food groups in it.
These words, this telling so that in a couple years both you and Toddler can look at them and smile – very special indeed.
A beautiful post, I absolutely adored reading it.
It is wonderful stories like this that keeps us going – our own stories and reading others’ who capture it so eloquently.
Have I been able to glimpse uncomplicated goodness in someone I know? Yes, on occasion I have. It’s like a really strong cup of coffee – a jolt of exhilaration that sort of restores your faith in humanity for a while.
And I do often second-guess my parenting skills, but also have moments like yours where I just sit back and think, “oh good, I am really not screwing this up and these kids are doing just fine”.
Sorry, I couldn’t get past the cookies. I can practically smell them. Got to run to the store to get some supplies for baking. Should be fun for me and the kids and the house will smell great.
But it certainly does sound like you are having far too much fun with the kids, but that is ok.
Aarrgggg! I can never seem to remember to post this in a timely manner or under an appropriate post, but I was just going to suggest that all the references to Life After Yes on your home page should now redirect readers Amazon so they can start pre-ordering. I have really grown to love your writing and hardly ever post, but I figured all the info and advance praise is now on the Amazon site, so why not take them to a place where people can instantly get their hands on it!
I can’t wait!
Hi, found you through TMC. Nice blog, can’t wait to read more. Have an amazing eveing, Jamie
I think it’s inevitable to doubt our parenting skills. Allllll the way through. And we adjust as we go.
The “fun” changes as they get older, though it’s amazing how much even teenagers will still come running for fresh baked cookies!
At some point, we see we’re doing things more or less right, and that’s probably as good as we can do. Those are sweet moments.