I've known about the book, Sidewalk Flowers, for years now. I still don't have a copy but it's never left my wishlist. It's one of those wordless, illustration-based books where I admire the idea, the illustrations, the creativity and the message.
The main way I know of the book's message is via excerpts from the very excellent The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings), which you can find here.
It's a message that's been haunting me a little bit lately. One I need to keep learning and ree-learning.
On the one hand, I've written several different posts about trying to appreciate the small things in life and to enjoy being in the moment. But on the other hand... let's put it this way. I've been developing a sneaking sympathy for the pre-occupied adult in the story.
You see, I usually take my LittleOne and my Indi-Girl on what we call a "pram walk" everyday. With LittleOne in the pram and Indi on the leash, we take a brisk-ish walk around the local streets, usually in the late afternoon, just before dusk. I intend it mainly as a physical and mental constitutional for Indi. She gets to smell the scents of all the other dogs in the neighbourhood (and add her own), get some exercise, help her bowel movements ummm, move (we call them 'poopydonks' these days), and stop her love handles getting too love handley. We do it rain or shine - although we're lucky that we've only had two absolutely pouring-down afternoon that we had to squelch through, and fortunately Indi's tummy woke up pretty quickly on both those days and let us scurry our soggy way home sooner rather than later!
But, as is the way of things, the pram walks become more, and mean more too.
They're a way for me to re-connect with LittleOne after work. I get to see the world through LittleOne's eyes - the street with the line of poinciana and bottle-brush trees which became the "magic forest", the house which must have once been a child care place of some kind going by the faded painting of the animals on the garage door, the industrial building with the overhead outside light which flickers and doesn't work properly, the first-ever (unprompted) "goodnight sun" wish, the beautiful light of the sunsets, and the regular greetings to the statue trees of "hello statue tree, I hope you're having a lovely day"... We've invented monster creatures I need to push the pram and run away from, which turn into monster creatures who are actually really nice and friendly and just lost and need a home to go to. We've rescued imaginary creatures from trees, rendez-vous-ed with them outside the House With The Sugar Cane And The Broom-Bamboo. I've sung songs with made-up words, I've sung existing songs and I've been asked to please stop singing.
I like to think LittleOne enjoys the pram walks. There have been earlier phases where LittleOne didn't always want to go for the pram walk - and on the rare occasions where bluffs were called and the not-wanting became didn't-go, there were inevitably tears, goopy-nose-goop and regret for toddler and parents. Nowadays though, we're at the enjoying-the-pramwalks end of the spectrum. It helps that a treat-food dimension has somehow built its way into the walk. Although, to give due credit, there's rarely any scarfing of treats asap. Instead, LittleOne usually carefully holds on to the treat, delaying gratification, until a given moment well into the walk when I'll hear the words "I think I'm ready to eat my treat now, Mama." And then, my heart melts and the pram walk pauses as I assist with opening lids or packets.
But the new main reason LittleOne is enjoying the walks these days, is the insisted transition from sitting in the pram to hopping out and doing actual walking with me and Indi. It makes absolute sense that there is much more joy and freedom in walking alongside the pram rather than being stuck in it. But hoo boy, this phase has its own challenges for me.
The logistics are hilarious - in a gritted teeth kind of way. I've got Indi's leash tethered in my right hand, which is also the hand pushing the pram (a pram which usually needs to be pushed with two hands). While my left hand holds LittleOne's - who usually wants to lag behind on purpose. We end up walking straggling in an awkward, diagonal, single file. Indi and cumbersome pram, then me, then LittleOne. If Indi lunges to smell something off to the side, or if we hit a bumpy bit of footpath, my one-handed pram-steering can fail with the pram veering off-course or tipping over.
And of course one of LittleOne's favourite games in this situation is to deliberately lag behind while holding my hand. Let's be specific: lag behind, hang heavily onto my hand, and drag feet. So I'm dragging a surprisingly-strong three year old bundle of weight behind me. While a dog weighing half as much as me is in the lead. A dog whose protective instincts are so strong, that any stranger, car, bike, dog, cat or bug in a 10 metre radius will get eyeballed and if that radius is breached, get viciously lunged and barked at. Actually, for cats, make that a 50 metre radius.
I often wonder if this whole scenario looks as farcical as it feels.
I don't enjoy it. LittleOne does and finds it hilarious. I do my best to let the game happen and keep my eyerolls to myself. But sometimes, I just snap tersely or fold the game abruptly. These moments get repeatedly stuffed into the 'Not proud of myself' box.
Then, other times, LittleOne just wants to stroll through unkempt grass in the verge, crunch on fallen leaves, pick up leaves and flowers, or hop across freshly-cut lawns. I do try hard to keep the spirit of Sidewalk Flowers in my head, but sometimes the tedious adult concerns win out. In part, because a toddler pace of walking is slow and mindful and rambling and in the moment. Which is beautiful - and yes, a lesson I could take on board more. But which I also often need to juggle against walking faster to help Indi's tummy activate. Or hurrying because I'm plain old tired. Or needing to do dinner prep. Or whatever other domestic juggle needs to be juggled. I know these domestic things don't matter in the large scheme of things, but, you know, they still need to happen.
On a mid-November Friday a couple of weeks ago, we had an interesting intersection of everything - a very late pram walk (well into the dusk and darkness), an impatient Indi desperate for her walk at her time of day, and LittleOne repeatedly, innocently, asking me why was I so cranky. "Because it's late, because us walking this late delays everything into the evening, because I'm already tired and hungry, and by the way, Indi you'd better do your poopydonk soon because this is going to be a very quick, very short walk just around the block." I grumbled in reply, actively stoking the storm clouds around my head.
We stomped around the corner and LittleOne gasped, pointed straight to the sky and exclaimed, "what's that?!" I looked up sulkily, and then I gasped too. Because it was the blood moon eclipse! Round, blood-coloured, and with a crescent sliver of silvery frangipani light. All my irritation at the late timing of our pramwalk immediately felt petty and pathetic and small (but didn't magically dissipate). We paused and I explained to LittleOne what was the moon was doing as I took some photos. Indi waited patiently and sniffed around and ate some grass.
We walked on a bit more with no sign of poopydonks from Indi. Then LittleOne asked to "hop out" of the pram and walk. I'm afraid I exhaled noisily and exasperatedly because LittleOne's walking pace isn't fast enough to activate Indi's tummy, and we were already nearly home. I tried to demur, but LittleOne was having none of it. My irritation/crankiness/fit of pique simmered pointlessly in the light of the blood-moon eclipse. But LittleOne was happy holding my hand and enjoying the novelty of walking under streetlights and spotting the blood-moon eclipse in-between rooftops, and Indi was happy grooving and smelling things in spite of the lack of poopydonks.
As we reached our house, LittleOne declared that we needed to walk some more, because Indi hadn't yet done her poopydonk. Actually, LittleOne had just enjoyed walking so much and wanted more. But LittleOne is canny enough to frame requests in ways that appeal to huffy-Mama-logic. Because LittleOne was correct, of course. Indi needed every chance to do her poopydonk. But, but, but. We were already late for the evening routine, the short walk had been delayed by stopping to admire the blood-moon, me taking photos and then LittleOne walking, and...
"Pleeeaase," said LittleOne.
Cue more exasperated and blustering huffing and puffing from me, and I shoved the pram through the gate, so it was one less thing I had to contend with. Then, we retraced our steps along the street back towards the blood-moon eclipse. LittleOne and Indi both very happy. Me, still sulky, but less so because I didn't have to wrestle with the pram this time too.
Indi did her poopydonk.
I fell on LittleOne with a hug and kiss and said, "you're the reason Indi got to do her poopydonk tonight! You did it! Thank you so very much!"
I can't forget LittleOne's look of delight surprise and pleasure.
We all returned home happy.
I'd like to say I learnt a valuable lesson, but honestly, I'll probably react this way again and again. But it's a lesson I'll need to ree-learn again and again. Hopefully, I'll get better though.
Du fond du coeur x
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