What I Should Have Done Was Nothing

I had visions of what I would do with this free time. 

Lounging on the sofa binge-watching my own shows, shows that aren’t Cocomelon. Laying on the beach reading a book, not clutching my toddler from the current at the surf. Sitting in my quiet office and focusing on my writing, instead of typing on my phone in a stolen moment waiting for my Instacart pick-up (#sorrynotsorry). 

This past summer I couldn’t help but fantasize about a few hours a day of down time while the boys are both at school. I love these days fully immersed in motherhood, but my boys are one hundred percent non-stop. That first day I dropped Oliver off at school I did completely bask in a morning at the beach with Nathan but I, admittedly, have not lounged at all since then. I’ve chosen to do a lot of the same things I did before when I had Oliver balanced on my hip...post office, grocery store, quick run, clean the kitchen before the next meal.

As a stay-at-home parent, I’m unsure of how to reconcile that completely self-imposed guilty feeling of doing nothing. I have this overwhelming drive to knock out the laundry, the dishes, the meal prep, but probably not mail the wedding RSVP that will still somehow ride around on my dashboard for weeks until the due date passes. 

This was on my mind this week when we read Frederick, a 1968 Caldecott Winner, by Leo Lionni. This story is about a family of mice working hard to store up for winter, all except Frederick, who seems to be barely pulling his weight. When his family asks him why he is not working, he says he is collecting rays from the sun or colors from the meadow or words to fill the long winter days ahead. Sure enough, hibernation brings hunger and boredom to the mice… and Frederick’s moment comes. He shares his memories of the sunshine and the colors of the meadow. He even regales them with a poem, filling their hibernating hearts with joy.

Frederick reminded me that, while, sure, the kitchen does eventually need to get cleaned, doing the chores is not what I bring to the table. Frederick reminded me not to confuse sitting still with doing nothing. If I don’t rest now, I won’t have any real joy to give later. 

#leolionni

Mavericks

I have all these new words in my vocabulary since moving to the Outer Banks. Words like pop-up and swell and barrelled.

I have these words in my vocabulary because when we moved, my husband almost immediately took up surfing. Now Nathan and the boys are constantly practicing paddling and popping-up in the living room. New wetsuits and boards that are completely necessary keep appearing in the garage. Nathan slips out the door before first light to surf before work. I don’t know what’s happening anymore at my house but, I’m not going to lie, it’s fun. 

Last weekend we took the boys out to the beach to watch a pro surf competition. We could only manage to keep them engaged in one heat — the women’s finals. The young women were amazing, carving out these intricate rides out of lackluster waves. The reality is that I would have been dazzled by just about any level of surfing, so it wasn’t until their heat was over that I was really impressed. The defeated surfer (who happened to be the 2018 World Junior Champion) lingered at the shore until her competitor finished her victory ride. Despite her visible exhaustion and tearful disappointment at losing, she and another young woman hoisted the winner onto her shoulders and carried her up the beach.

There’s a chance this is customary sportsmanship in surfing. But it brought tears to my eyes, nevertheless, that I pretended weren’t there as I continued to bury the boy’s feet in the sand in an attempt to keep them still a bit longer.

This was on my mind when we read Sarah And The Big Wave, written by Bonnie Tsui and illustrated by Sophie Diao. This nonfiction picture book is about Sarah Gerhardt, the first female to surf the big waves at Mavericks in California. It’s an inspiring story about an unknown surfer who made a name for herself in a sport largely qualified by male victories. There is a timeline on the last page, the final event occurring in February 2020 when Maya Gabeira broke the world record for the largest wave surfed by a woman.

While I hid my own tears from my boys, I hope they saw hers so they know that their own hard work matters, but the real impact comes from hoisting up those on the journey with us.

#sarahandthebigwave