Learning to Treasure Simplicity in Our Relationships with Our Children.

Three Rubber Ducks. Three Babycinos. A life lesson from parenthood.

Its been one year. One year since our son was born. One year since my partner took his two weeks off never to return to the office. One year since our lives slowed down for the newborn bubble that was engulfed by the COVID-19 bubble. One year since we pressed paused on our life and then waited for someone else to press start. One whole year that has changed our lives.

My son had his first birthday on a Thursday. The busiest day of our week. Both my partner and I were working so the day was a non-event. Meetings at 10am, 11, 4pm-6pm. That was his entire day. I sang him to sleep that night and settled him into his cot. I shut the door and leaned against it and sighed. Tomorrow would be better. He didn’t know what a birthday was.

My six year old daughter met me in the hall. “Mama,” she tugged on my arm and I knelt down. “Mama what are we going to do to celebrate?” I sighed and smiled at her serious little face, grateful that she cared.

I shrugged, smiling into her serious little face and trying to remember what I used to do before we stayed home. Her brow wrinkled and I recalled her tiny little face covered in chocolate sprinkles, twin pigtails bobbing around her ears.

“Babycinos?” I asked smiling.

“And rubber ducks,” my husband added, climbing up the stairs. We shared a smile and tucked our eldest two into bed.

We dressed the kids and took them to a playground with a small café. The older children ran off to play and our little boy snuggled into my lap. My husband disappeared. A daughter, mother and grandfather sat at the table beside us. My son grinned at them and smiled. The grandfather chucked and waved. We said hello. I smiled at them and we started talking. Its still a novel idea to have a conversation with someone at a café.

“He’s so sweet,” the woman fluttered her fingers and her daughter smiled at my little boy. The older gentlemen made a face and my son grinned back, clapping his little hands in delight.

“It’s his birthday,” I offered hugged him close.

My husband returned with three babycinos and 2 coffees. He placed three new rubber ducks on the table. He nodded to the family at the other table and kissed our sons’ head.

“Happy Birthday.” Those two little words almost brought me to tears. A birthday. My baby was one year old. One year old and I had not been able to share this tiny little life with the world because it had shut its doors to him to keep us safe.

His birth had been a non-event for most but us. The pregnancy announcement had been cancelled when we lost my brother. How do you utter in the same sentence that you lost your best friend and are expecting again in the same sentence? The sip and see and birth announcement cancelled when the lock down started. There were no visitors, 2 cards and a few texts here and there but hardly anyone knew he even existed.

This little tiny life who had brought so much love and joy into our home when we desperately needed it. Who needed me when I needed to be needed. Whose every milestone had been celebrated by our little family. This beautiful little boy had given us connection and hope for life again after tragedy and no one knew him. My heart grieves for the moments that they missed.

This little one who has this innate ability to have mastered the busy and the connected. He is always exploring, always curious and has little time for toys unless they have wheels. Unless the wheels come solo; then he would just have the wheel. He has no time for television and entertainment. He loves singing and cuddles but does not like to be contained. He experiments constantly, climbs in everything, and then calls to get out. This little boy who has taught me that my life needed to slow down. That I needed to appreciate every moment, or it would pass me by. That I needed to stop hiding in the business and just be in the moment. To take the moment to truly connect.

His favorite moments are those when his family is all together with no distractions from each other. He stills, quietens, and soaks in the moment putting his little hands on our arms; his smile could not get any wider. In the busyness and chaos though he wants to know everything. His eyebrows crease when he is thinking his one-year-old deep thoughts and then he is off again. He calls to us to keep him company and then proceeds to continue what he was doing. He wants the world just to exist with him. Only stopping to touch your arm, smile into your eyes or put his head in your lap. He will turn his head and move until his eyes line up with yours for that moment of pure eye contact. When his little soul connects with yours.

Our little boy spent his new birthday surrounded by his family of five. We laughed together, foam on our lips, and on his cheeks and nose. He clapped, grinned and we took photos. He smiled into the eyes of anyone who would look his way. Simple, calm, outside and peaceful. Then the children ran through the park as he spider crawled after them, grass stains on his knees, only looking back to make sure that his parents followed.

His eyes fixed on the grass ahead, head down as if to propel himself forward. Looking up only to check the direction he was going so as not to be left behind.

It makes me wonder just how many moments I have missed of his siblings’ childhoods because I was sure that we needed to be busy. To be doing something big or exciting. How many moments did I miss the connecting because I was rushing or being entertained or distracted? How many moments did I not sense in others or in myself, our desperate need to connect? In a year of chaos and isolation this little person gave us our own little island of peace. He centered us and grounded us and showed us the beauty of the simple moments. A balance of simplicity, busyness, and connection; a life lesson I will strive to never forget.