For a few mornings in a row, my older daughter refilled her cereal bowl with a second helping. I’d like to say it was a second helping of something whole-grain or sugar-free, but no…it was definitely Cocoa Krispies, friends.
The fourth or fifth morning, I helped Grace pour more milk into her bowl, atop the second helping of Cocoa Krispies. I watched as the milk splashed over the cereal, quickly misting into swirls of chocolate in the bowl. And that’s when I realized—my 7-year-old daughter needed a bigger cereal bowl.
She was using a small pink plastic bowl, which she’d been using since she was a toddler. Of course she needed a second helping of cereal every morning—she’d long outgrown these bowls. That moment, that morning, I felt a mix of both “aha!” and “agh!”…because how could I not have noticed this?
I’d been there with my daughter, every morning, every breakfast…and still, I missed this. Something right in front of me, something so obvious.
“I’m so sorry, Grace,” I said.
“Mom, it’s fine,” she replied.
The right size of a cereal bowl—not a life-or-death matter, to be sure. But…I hadn’t been paying attention.
I’d been there…and still, I missed this.
Stanton, the girls and I start and end our day in the breakfast nook of our home. We love this cozy space. Previous owners of our Cape Cod added this room to the back of the kitchen, and a big window overlooks the backyard. One evening, I was sitting at our L-shaped bench and table, and looked out the window.
It’s mid-May now, and the trees outside are flush with leaves. But it seemed to me that just yesterday, the view outside my window had unveiled bursts of the trees’ spring blossoms, airy puffs of white, pink and green.
“Stan, look,” I said, pointing. “When did the blossoms turn into leaves?”
Stanton didn’t know, either.
But we agreed that, like the blossoms, the leaves were beautiful too.
Things like this happen all the time, one thing after another, that I realize too late.
I forgot my parents’ anniversary. That day last month, I called my mom at the end of the day, as I usually do. “Hi Mom, I’m super busy,” I said. “I just wanted to call, say hello. How was your day, anything I should know about?”
“Well…today was our anniversary.”
Agh. I felt horrible, and said so.
My mom said not to worry, it was fine. Just as Grace had said. But still. Often I’m distracted, self-absorbed, overwhelmed…or simply not paying attention.
Another mom texted one morning last week, asking if I was walking Grace to the elementary school for Walk to School Day. “Ugh!” I texted back. I had forgotten.
We managed to walk to school that day, arriving with seconds to spare. “We did it,” I said, hugging Grace good-bye.
Grace said thanks, hugged me back and then ran into the red-brick building with her friends.
At which point Anna poked her head out from under her stroller canopy. She reminded me that she couldn’t be late for preschool, which started in several minutes.
And off we went, friends. Off we went, before my 9:30 a.m. meeting.
Things like this happen all the time…that I realize too late.
In the meantime…Anna and I perused the sale section of the West Elm website one afternoon this week. After much discussion, we picked out new, larger cereal bowls for Grace (and Anna too, of course).
After I clicked the “Place Order” button, Anna asked, “Are they here yet? Did they come?”
I reached for more coffee.
As I was trying to finish writing this post, Anna asked if she could watch TV. I said no, it wasn’t a TV day. She then said, “Come on, Mom. Because if I don’t watch TV, then what I want to do is push your buttons, and that would be distracting. Please, Mom, please.”
Anna meant the buttons on my laptop, but I smiled at the irony in the expression “push your buttons.” Then I laughed because…honestly, I was just so tired. Anna started laughing too, and threw her arms around me.
“I love you, Mom! And…TV?”
“You’re driving me…”
“Crazy!” Anna kept laughing. “I know, Mom. You tell me all the time.”
All the time.
All the time.
Sometimes, without our even realizing it, all the time goes by. And we were right there, the whole time, and didn’t really notice. Not until something happened that woke us up a little.
For me, that was a cereal bowl.
I try to be kind to others, kind to myself. Try to meet people where they are, and do better the next time when I make a mistake. So I can let the cereal bowl, and the trees, and my parents’ anniversary go. Let it all go.
But I am going to make an effort to be more conscious, pay more attention.
Sometimes, without our even realizing it, all the time goes by.
I’m not sure how successful I’ll be in this new endeavor toward mindfulness. I can envision myself failing miserably at it, in the weekday morning rush and calls for “Mom! Mom! Mom!” at various hours of the day (and night). For example, just a few nights ago: “Mom, there’s no clean underwear in my underwear drawer! What am I going to do, Mom?” And I thought—yes, you guessed it, friends—AGH.
But I’m going to give it a shot.
Because one day you’re eating Cocoa Krispies out of a pink plastic bowl, and the next, you’re the person in charge of somebody else’s clean underwear drawer.
If you don’t pay attention, it can all go by in a blink.
Photo credit: Pixabay
Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s newest short story, “Backtrack.” An engaging read that’s can’t-put-it-down good.