This time last year felt monumental in its gravity. Ernie was turning one! A whole year of keeping a baby alive! A year of firsts and learning and crying and growing. This year felt different. For so many reasons and in so many ways I’m sure the zero to one era is different than one to two. But throw in the Covid-19 pandemic and the differences begin to sharpen. This second year of mothering, for me, was not filled with community or taking my toddler on playdates or library visits. It did not encourage growth by following examples of other mothers; rather, it was a year of pulling at growth’s hand, begging it to hurry up and teach me things, by way of Instagram, online mom groups, and frantic texts to mom friends who I was sure had the answers. The societal unrest of last summer around racial reckoning in the United States made me take a hard look at how I want to parent and bring a child up in a world, that, I don’t believe can or should be color blind. The pandemic forced us to rethink what safety meant, what being a part of a community meant, and how we could communicate and interact with family and friends from afar. The lessons learned from 2020 I’m sure are not even fully felt, yet, because we’re all still mixed up in the grief and trauma and confusion of “what just happened.” And the fuzziness, for me, has definitely extended into how I feel about my second year of mothering little Ernie.
The year almost exactly coincided with a break in my work life. About a month before Ernie turned one I quit my job with the intention of taking a month or two to find the next gig and, in the meantime, have some extra one-on-one time with him. The timing of that was very interesting (mid-March 2020), and all of a sudden the job market was very different as well as our family’s priorities. My husband was working full-time remote and we pulled Ernie from the daycare program he was in, not knowing what was safe and healthy in those early quarantine days. As such, I became a full-time stay-at-home mom up until earlier this month when I did return to work, albeit also in a fully remote capacity. The year felt entirely too long and, now, also surprisingly short — “the days are long but the years are short” makes a lot of sense to me, because I remember some days feeling like 7:00 bedtime would never arrive, and then also in looking back and reflecting it almost feels like because every day was so similar, they passed in a blink. This was a common thread in my post from last year (as well as any mommy blog or mom influencer post you’ll ever read), but it all really does go so fast. Getting such intense time with Ernie in a one-on-one capacity has for sure strengthened our bond and I’m thankful for that. And it was also paralyzing at times when I had thoughts along the lines of, “will life ever be more than picking up these same toys and feeding these same snacks every single day?”
I try not to wallow in regret because I’m the kind of person who does believe that the past is there and there’s little to be done about it. But it has been particularly hard to not daydream about all the things we could have done and seen (and touched!) had it not been for Covid. I had plans — that were not grand in nature, but now feel grandiose compared to our daily life in the time of Corona. I wanted Ernie to accompany on grocery store runs and errands to the post office; I wanted to branch out and try to make new friends — friends that also had toddlers and were trying to figure out what that meant and how to keep living our own lives with them in tow; I thought we’d plan meetups at parks, but also coffee- and playdates at other people’s homes. What a luxury that all sounds now, when last year it felt so ordinary.
Instead we read books. We played with blocks and trucks and peg people. We read more books and tried our hand at some toddler-appropriate cooking and baking projects. We were outside almost constantly (hooray and feeling very thankful for our year-round sun and the backyard we spruced up throughout the year). We managed a handful of out-of-the-house excursions: we had a few beach days, we visited all of the nearby parks, and used our hiking backpack for some adventurous walks. Impressively, we traveled, as a family of three plus a dog, from California to New Hampshire, and proceeded to spend two months living with my parents and reveling in the grandparent time. We read and read and read and read and read and somehow I’m not sick of almost any of our books (except this one).
Ernie learned to walk! He started his second year at the edge of getting the skill and as soon as he had it, he was off! He runs everywhere. He climbs everything. He’s physical in a way where he knows what his body is capable of but also wants to push the limit a little bit and it makes me so excited to see him challenge himself. (And also my heart swells when he gets just a little too high up on something, reaches out for me, and says “hand!”) He is an adventurous eater and will try most things, especially if there’s a sauce to dip it in; he loves spicy stuff. Ernie’s favorite color is pink and he loves to color. We are close to filling up an entire easel pad of paper with drawings and scribbles and it’s everyone’s favorite activity to watch Ernie’s face when he’s exerting and trying to pull a marker cap off. He loves to point out cars and trucks and particularly likes seeing firetrucks (“bee-yoo-wee-yoos”) and ice cream trucks (“ning nong truck”). He is a big fan of stuffed animals; we put him to bed with two or three “friends” in his bed, and by the morning about 20 in total have migrated from the toy bin to cuddling up next to him. His random hugs are the best, especially ones that start from across the room and end when he sprints towards you with his arms open and smashes into your knees. He gives kisses like a codfish.
Probably the lesson here is that within all the hard parts of parenting there will always be aspects that make me smile. Watching Ernie grow and develop and learn new things is joyful in a way I didn’t know to expect from raising a tiny human. But also, given the last year, I want to do my best to remember that the hard and trying parts of parenting are just as valid, just as real, just as in need of being remembered.
Here’s to the next year, whatever it may bring.