About Time
I had a Mommy-and-Me morning recently. “Mommy” being myself, and “me” being the deep breaths that were supposed to calm my nervous system, now that I was finally getting some time alone. “You’re overdue for your day. I’ll take the baby.” I’m lucky to have a guy who remembers things like that. Sure, he has a methodical madness of clothes all over the floor on his side of the bed, but that’s an easy thing to overlook. Especially as I sip on what the Gen Z barista called a “solid Friday morning vibe”. The menu listed it as a “Salted Lavender and Honey Latte”. Neither was wrong.
As great as this vibe in a cup tasted, it was a journey getting here. It was a long time coming. It was about time.
It feels like such a cliche mom thing to say, but relaxing is stressful. I wish it were because of selfless reasons, such as not wanting to be away from my baby or having endless chores around the house I could do, or because my soul’s purpose is to serve others. More than anything, it’s because, to a new mama like me, relaxing is risky.
I have never known “busy” like becoming a mother. It’s the strangest kind of busy because it isn’t necessarily all hustle and bustle. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when my wit’s end is miles away from where I last left it, but it isn’t always trudging through the dirt either. It isn’t always go, go, go. Moreso, stay, stay, stay. Stay physically present with the baby. Stay aware of what could go wrong. Stay ready for the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime.
Think you can be like bumper bars at a bowling alley and be an idle guard preventing them from veering into a dangerous lane? Nope. It’s about taking preventative actions and thinking on your exhausted feet. Think you can have one eye on your phone scrolling? They’re just playing with blocks anyway! Na-uh. Things change in an instant. Physically, mentally, emotionally. You are to be with this baby, in this moment, present. They need you. Even more, you want to be there for them.
After a month or so, you realize you know this baby better than anyone. You can even identify which cries mean he’s sleepy versus hungry. You can sense the small window of opportunity that gives you the highest chances of soothing your baby successfully. They can’t talk, but suddenly, you speak their language. So even when people offer to help or give you a break, you hesitate. Because this baby trusts you now. He knows you. And you have an unspoken thing going on. You soothe the fastest, the most effectively, and with the longest-lasting results. Plus, now he smiles whenever he sees you. How could you possibly leave?
Yet, here I am sipping my latte. The events that led to this Mama’s Day Out were like every breath when trying to blow up a balloon. It’s difficult to differentiate between the breath that will inflate the balloon to its fullest form versus the one that will make it pop.
My baby refused to go to bed and put up the fight of his seven-month life. Blow. My baby woke up in the middle of the night and decided it was actually daytime and therefore playtime, so my husband and I stayed up soothing him. Blow. In the morning, the baby tried to divebomb off our bed because he wanted to eat the tag on a pillow. Now my husband and I are double-teaming him in what has become a snake charming situation. Blow. Our baby has entered what my husband calls The Sloth Phase. He does not want to be held by anyone but me, nor does he want to be put down in any of the four play areas we put together for him in our home. Blow. My morning routine has now gone from lifting a soothing cup of matcha as my baby sat in the playpen to lifting my twenty-pound little guy. Meanwhile, my matcha is forgotten and cools down to an unsatisfying room temperature. Blow. My husband offers to take the baby so I can take a break. Baby fusses when I try to pass him to Papa, so I refuse the help. Blow. I’m able to put him down in the playpen, but only if I stay in there with him. Blow. I left my matcha latte on the kitchen counter. Blow. Since when do people have to sneak out so their baby doesn’t catch them? Blow. He caught me. Blow. He’s whining. Blow. I sit back down and soothe him. Blow. I shake his Mr. Moo Cow rattle to divert his attention. Blow. I get up and try for the matcha again. Blow. Got it. I take a sip. Aaaaahhh. I hear a thud. POP.
The balloon had burst in the form of a bump on my baby’s forehead. He divebombed a toy block.
The guilt was all-encompassing. I swept him up into my arms, held him tight as he screamed into my ear, and made sure there weren’t any serious injuries. Just the bump. Well, there was nothing “just” about it. By the time my husband came to check on us, we were both crying.
“He’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay! But go ahead and have a you-date. You were supposed to have one last week and that didnt end up happening.” This event only made me want stay and make up for the moment my attention wavered. However, it was equally evidence that I needed to take a break. For everyone’s sake. It was about time.
I made myself just presentable enough to head over to one of my favorite cafes. They have the best blueberry scones. The right amount of blueberries, the perfect ratio between doughy and crumbly, and the sugar crystals sprinkled on top are a form of art. If there are enough in the display, I’ll even order three or four to share with my mom, who feels just as passionate about the little sugar crystals. I took my scone and latte, and found a table in the corner outside. Taking my book and journal out of my bag, I tried to settle in and disappear into the background. All I could think about was my baby. I was getting tense again. Somehow, I brought the balloon with me. And it was blowing up. I thought about going home. Then, I realized I wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the beautiful weather on the patio that day.
I couldn’t help but overhear the woman at a table nearby. She was sitting with a friend, and they seemed to be planning a wedding. “I loved the dress Rachel McAdams wore in the movie About Time, but obviously, it’d be floor length, and I’d rock it in ivory.” Something about that sparked joy within me. I don’t mean the dress, though I loved that too. I meant the movie. I loved About Time. But it wasn’t just the wardrobe that left a lasting impression on me; it was something greater. I couldn’t believe I forgot about it until now.
In About Time, the main character’s name is Tim. On his twenty-first birthday, his father reveals to him that the men in their family can travel through time. Like many men in their twenties would, he uses this ability to find a girlfriend. He falls in love with Mary, Rachel McAdams’ character. As the relationship and life get more complicated, as these things naturally do, Tim tries again and again to use his ability to avoid the hard parts. But he quickly realizes that it is not that simple. After his father’s passing, Tim decides to travel back in time to say a final goodbye. During this conversation, his father leaves him with the “secret formula to happiness”.
His father advises him to live each day twice. The first time he lives a day, he is to go about it per usual, like everyone else. Tim begrudgingly goes through the stressors, tolerates the people, and worries about this or that. Then he is to live that day again, without changing any of the events or interactions. However, this time, he is to notice all the sweet little things about the people and places in his life. He’s to live a version of that day without being caught up in the worries or tension of life.
Tim’s days are consistently identical in terms of events, outcomes, and productivity. However, on every second-version of that day, he is present. He is not just trying to “get through”. He is grateful for everything and everyone around him, causing him to carry himself with a lightheartedness that provides both himself and the people around him genuine joy. He leaves the day happier and more fulfilled. Nothing between the two days changed aside from his outlook, but that has made all the difference.
In the end, his father’s secret formula has made such a change in his life that he no longer lives life like the “first day”. Tim treats everyday like the second. He does this until he no longer feels the need to even travel time at all. There is nothing to go back and fix. Nothing to get more out of. He’s already made the most of each day, and continues to for the rest of his life with Mary and their children.
Aside from telling the woman that she would look incredible in the dress from the movie, I wanted so badly to thank her for bringing it back into my life. Sure, having a baby can be overwhelming and busy. I mean, did you see everything I listed up there? But there is something I want to be sure is understood- I do all those things not because I’m forced to. I do them because I want to. I love to. But after doing these things day in and day out, it can be easy to forget why you’re doing them.
Once I finished my coffee and scone, I took another cleansing breath and headed home. I may have arrived to a familiar routine, but now that I’ve had the time to clear my head, get back in touch with myself, and reflect on a great movie, I’ve instead landed in a “second day”. With this secret formula, it’s no longer blowing up a balloon until it inevitably explodes, with each breath full of tension and desperation. Now, it’s more like blowing dandelions into the breeze; each breath full of joy, gratitude, and all the best hopes for the future.
My baby couldn’t sleep and looked to me to comfort him. I feel so lucky to be his safe space. Blow. My baby woke up in the middle of the night, and even though it was dark, I could see his eyes light up when he saw us. Blow. In the morning, our baby felt so safe and playful with us that he divebombed our pillows and we cuddled. Blow. My baby only wants me to hold him right now. What a special, fleeting time that I plan to fully enjoy while it lasts. Blow. He doesn’t want to sit in the playpen, so I get to bring my baby along on my morning routine. He’s such a curious little guy. Blow. My husband is supportive and wants to share the load. I ask him to bring me my matcha latte. Blow. Now we’re all playing together in the playpen. Blow. Our baby is laughing. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Blow, blow, blow.
Motherhood is busy. Sometimes it can be suffocating. But I went home that day with a breath of fresh air. Each blow is now a cleansing, fulfilling, beautiful breath. And I intend to enjoy each one.
About time.
