After 16 months of being indifferent regarding my existence, Hurricane Hadley has suddenly become obsessed with me. Overnight, she has changed from this independent spirit to a kid who can’t let me leave the room without throwing a fit. Jamie has become the devil incarnate and Grandma Johnson is, as ever, the trump card that Haddie will always love above all.
Jamie didn’t feel well so I braved church alone with her. Nursery was out of the question. Though she won’t be of “legal age” for another month, I’ve been dropping her in there periodically and she has loved it. I mean, what’s not to love: countless toys, kids, singing time, snacks…what more could a 17-month-old want?
Apparently, her mommy. And she kept asking and asking and asking. OK, more like screeching at the top of her lungs. Since she became mobile, I haven’t been able to take her into any other meetings because she likes to perform her Elmo dance at the podium (charming to the bored congregation; not so charming to the teachers.) So I sat in on nursery and marveled how, at a year old, they can’t wait to get in. At 18 months, they can’t wait to get out. Isn’t life just like that sometimes? Sadly, I have a few friends whose views on marriage are the same.
The nursery was in a bit of turmoil because the room smelled like cat urine (the big news of the day). Obviously, the hygienically-obsessed nursery leader did not want her children playing in a kitty-litter playground so we spent a good deal of time outside. Most LDS churches are, by nature, pretty generic. But this building was a former non-denominational church. The grounds are gorgeous, with a grove of trees swimming in a sea of leaves.
Like caged animals, those kids relished their newfound freedom. They ran, laughed, played, hid in the trees, and rolled in the leaves. Seeing those kids laugh and race around gave a little reminder about how the simplest things really are the most joyful.
Haddie’s definition of joy is snack time. Today, she sat in a big-girl chair and stole candy from her unsuspecting neighbor. As my little klepto sat munching away, I got a bit teary-eyed about how grown up she is becoming. Every day, I’m struck with her beauty, her innocence, her enormous capacity to learn. That’s the amazing thing about motherhood. No matter how crappy and hard some days are, the paybacks are huge and are often the simplest things in the world.
It reminds me of my 18-month mission to Switzerland. I had been out for a few months and my stellar trainer, Soeur Ripley, had been transferred. My new companion was going home in eight weeks and I was eager to show her my new “ville” (city). I took her around to all my favorite landmarks, fountains and ruins. Nothing seemed to impress her. Finally,completely blasé, she informed me she’d been in Europe for 16 months and had “seen it all.”
Her reaction wasn’t as surprising as my own. Instead of being hurt, I felt pity for her. She had completely lost touch with what it means to exist, to live. The lesson I learned made an indelible imprint on me: the day you stop recognizing and appreciating everything and everyone that surrounds you, this is the day you stop living.
Oh, and just remember…sometimes it’s as easy as stealing candy from a baby.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 