"This is Lovely"

Today was really one of my least favorite days I've had in a while. Prior to about 5:00, I would have told you that I was becoming a cave woman and moving to Madagascar, where I didn't have to bother with interacting with anybody but me, myself and I. This option seems very appealing to me on days like today, where I am forced to contend with work drama, relational issues, miscommunications, issues to be resolved, embarrassment in front of a group of people, emotional rollercoasters, and a general feeling of inadequacy and disappointment. Sounds like a lot - and it is. The fact that I process things emotionally also wasn't helped by my extremely full schedule. I went from one meeting to another to another, and over the day, things built up to a very, very dangerous level (hence the Madagascar talk). It is on days like these that I really get down. I get in a funk, and I can't seem to see the silver lining in any situation, get easily frustrated, feel inadequate, and generally need a good sleep to reset myself and start over again.

Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.

Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.