Small, but Big

I've been thinking lately about how the world — your world — often feels so small when you have kids. All those months spent breastfeeding in front of the TV, when a walk down the block is considered a big adventure. All those hours logged on the same few playgrounds, over and over again. All those pre-nap and pre-bedtime routines trying to cajole Wee One into his/her crib. It can start to feel like your entire universe revolves around sleep sacks, coffee, the washer dryer and that plastic Baby Einstein toy designated for use only in the car (where it's most needed) that you simultaneously canonize and want to throw onto Highway 101.

Life seems "small" because you just don't have time for some of the intellectual pursuits you might have devoted your free time to in the past. This morning, for example, I was listening to NPR in the car and couldn't wrap my head around how anyone could possibly have the time to dissect the childhood comings and goings of David Foster Wallace. I wanted to shout, "He wrote a book! It was long! I don't have time to read it, though, and I don't know how you people do either!*" You also have to schedule your life around the smallest (seemingly) things, like naps, feedings, and play time. It makes you start to wonder why your own life doesn't just consist of naps, feedings, and play time. Have we** been wasting our time all of these years trying to write, invent, learn and discover? Maybe we're just supposed to drink milk.

So maybe life feels tiny these days. But I wonder — is life also much, much bigger once you have a child? Maybe you are stuck on the playground every afternoon between 4 and 6, but have you noticed those little kids giggling? How their imaginations run wild and nothing they say makes sense, and that makes it even more adorable than if it did make sense? Have you noticed that hey, the sky actually really is blue? A fire truck drove past said playground the other day, and the super nice firemen drove really slowly and honked and waved at the kids for what felt like an hour. The whole playground stopped what it was doing, and in that moment, just paused and totally and completely enjoyed that connection with those firemen, and not a single person even missed it 'cause he/she was on his/her iphone. "Huh," I thought to myself. "I didn't know firemen ever did that."

So maybe I don't have time to read a 1000+ semi-parodic novel, but I do have time to look at the sky, and wave to a bunch of firemen.

*I definitely don't have time to learn that the author was a tennis pro.
**By "we," I mean civilization.