Vitamin Z

Today was one of those days.  One of those days that both tests and reinforces the absolute power of being a mother.  One of those days that flies in with the wind, whips through your hair, and informs you (if you pay attention) that this day requires your full attention.  Drop everything; clear your schedule, it says.  You won’t want to miss this.

For the most part, I glory in schedules—wake up time, breakfast time, cleaning time, shopping time, lunch time, nap time, wait-for-Daddy-to-come-home time, dinner time, bed time, etc.  There is also, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, school time.  Today was Thursday, so the plan, of course, was already decided. 

Though I’m on spring break this week, I particularly didn’t want Isabelle to miss this school day, because this school day was her St. Patrick’s day party.  Just the word party makes her squeal.  So, I thought, I will drop her off, go down to campus, get some work done (ughhhhh…spring break….don’t…want…to…), and pick her up in the afternoon.  Early, of course.

And then I checked the weather.  68 and sunny.

Come again?

68 and sunny?

Rewind back a few weeks to a conversation that Isabelle and I had around the breakfast table.  Me: (Looking longingly at the calendar and counting the number of days still left in March) Soon it will be springtime!  Isabelle: Springtime?  Me: (Trying to infect her with my enthusiasm for non-winter) It will be warm outside during springtime!  We can even go to the zoo!  Isabelle: (Eyes get big) The zoo?  Monkeys?  Elephants?  (Proceeds to do the sound of every animal she can think of).  Me: Do you want to go to the zoo in the springtime?  (Did I really have to ask?)

Fast forward.  Imagine me, after this conversation, today.  This 68 degree, sunny day in MARCH in MICHIGAN.  It is springtime.  It is warm.  It is spring break.  It is St. Patrick’s day.  And let us not forget the past three frigid, don’t-want-to-move-I’m-so-cold, dark months of winter spent huddled in the house.  The adventurous, spontaneous, free-spirited part of my brain (that Jay sometimes swears has the illusiveness of the Loch Ness monster, or Big Foot) almost leapt out the window and ran to the dang zoo. 

But there was the school party.  And the schedule.  And what a good mother would do.  And Isabelle’s naptime is 1:00, but the zoo closes at 4, which meant we’d either need to go in the morning (and miss the party), or go in the afternoon and miss the nap.  And even if we went in the afternoon, that would mean I’d have to pick her up at 12pm from daycare—a whopping 4 1/2 hours early, and only 2 1/2 hours after I dropped her off.  Was I even allowed to do that?

And then the wind whipped, and I smelled the fresh smell of springtime, and gazed at the marble blue sky, and I realized: I am the mom.  A good mom.  And today, we are going to the zoo.

So we went.  You should have seen her face when I picked her up early from school, and said “Guess where we’re going?”  Her response (with signature excited face): “Wherrrreeeee?  The mallllllllll?”  Ha.  I may or may not have been brainwashing her to love shopping.  Harmless, really.  “Not the mall,” I replied, “the ZOO!”  Next followed the squeal, then the “Wooowwwiiieeee!”  and then an exclamation: “The ZOO!”  And then came the elephant noise.  She loves elephants.

We got there about 1pm—right about the time we’d be reading books and getting drowsy for naptime at home.  But let’s be honest, the fact that we were breaking the holy rules of naptime a little made being at the zoo feel even more special and exciting.  Isabelle’s favorite exhibits were the butterflies, the penguins, the monkeys, the polar bear, and the hippo, in that order.  After a while, I took off my coat and just wore a long sleeve t-shirt, and was perfectly warm.  There was quite the variety of outerwear walking around the zoo today—some optimistic parents had their kids in short sleeves and baseball caps; others, cautiously, bundled their kids in puffy winter coats and hats, as if Jack Frost were about to jump out from behind a tree.  It is March in Michigan, after all.  I opted for a light spring coat for Isabelle, and none for myself.

We were exhausted by the time we got back to the front gate.  We left on a high note: penguins.  She kept yelling “Penguins!  Waddle, waddle,” as if “waddle” was what a penguin said instead of what it did.  Then we hit the gift shop, and I let her pick a souvenir.  I put a cork in my little voice that said, muffled, “But gift shops!  They’re so expensive!  And unnecessary!”  Put a sock in it, dude.  This is spring break.  She picked a little purple camera that shows pictures of animals every time you click the button.  Giraffes. Gorillas.  Bears.  Elephants.

Ironically, those are the only elephants she saw all day.  The Detroit Zoo, for some reason, doesn’t have them.  We discovered this as soon as we walked in the gate, while Isabelle yelled “elephants!” enthusiastically and I frantically looked for them on the map.  She handled the disappointment like a trooper, though, and soon found many other animals to be excited about.

So now as I sit here on the couch, pregnant body aching, about to fall asleep as I type from sheer exhaustion, feet realizing that they haven’t walked that far in a long time, what I am thinking is not how much I missed naptime today.  Or how much I wish I had kept Isabelle in daycare today.  Nor do I worry that breaking our otherwise reverenced schedule has guiltily revealed some immature spontaneity or maternal irresponsibility.

On the contrary.  Today was special because I am responsible, and we do have a reliable schedule.  Isabelle knows what to expect day to day, and knows that joy and security comes from the predictable, small things in life.

But sometimes, when the wind blows just right, and the sun shines just enough, and it’s been just so cold outside, being a good mother involves reveling in the vibrancy of life.  Taking it in.  Putting off everything else just to drink in the blue sky, sunshine, and Vitamin Z (which, by the way, is a positively brilliant way to characterize the absolutely essential childhood memories provided by a zoo trip), and not asking, “Am I allowed to do this?”

Because of course I am.  I am the mom.

And the life lesson taught? 

Carpe diem, baby.  Nice weather, like childhood, doesn’t last forever.