As the full-time mother of a toddler, much of my day is spent in survival mode. “I can’t wait until my daughter has more self-control,” I thought to myself recently as I pushed the stroller the five blocks to our destination. “I just need to get through this.” I was thinking this because Leilani had once again refused to go into the stroller, and it was only after a hard struggle (her face red and back arched like an Olympic gymnast poised to take gold) that I had won the day, and Leilani had finally agreed to be in the stroller. At that moment, a woman who was crossing the street in front of me said, “I was just admiring your stroller. I miss those stroller days. I’m on my way to get my daughter. She’s a teenager now, and I have to figure out how to get her to do her homework.” That mom was probably thinking the same thing I was in that moment: “I just need to survive this challenging moment in my child’s life. I just need to get through this.”
So much of the time as a parent I feel like I’m Tarzan flailing through the jungle of motherhood, looking for the next vine to grab. I usually miss and fall on my ass. But I hope I don’t miss what’s really important. Years from now, when I think back to stroller days, I may remember the meltdowns, but I’ll also think of the two of us together, barreling towards our next adventure. The stroller gave Leilani a front row seat to the greatest show of all, life unfolding in front of her. I know I’ll miss these stroller days.
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