#tbt - better to give

If there's one thing my family has always excelled at, it's a good celebration.  Birthdays often became birthweeks and presents multiplied like bunnies underneath the Christmas tree.  One year there was an actual bunny rabbit.

I remember one Christmas sitting behind the gift wrapped fort I had constructed and peering over at the small piles of presents my parents had at their feet.  Compared to our mounds of gifts, my parents always seemed to have maybe five to six or seven on a big gift year.

At first I assumed it was because their gifts were more expensive.  I figured that the Barbie dolls I was opening were just worth less than the presents they got from Santa.  Eventually, I learned more about budgets and the prices of things and I realized that just wasn't the case.  They were getting more expensive surprises but it's not like they were receiving trips to the Bahamas or anything.  Year after year they opened books and CDs and workshirts and ties and the occasional gift certificate for a massage or tickets to a concert.  If there were dollar signs hovering over our gift piles theirs would be much smaller.

I always felt really bad for them and worried that it was the future waiting for me.  I would recount my shiny wrapped presents and gather them in a little closer.  I had heard that it was better to give than to receive but I wasn't completely convinced.

Our family vacations were spent traveling in the loaded up minivan with child friendly destinations like water parks and Disney World while my parents had to forgo the less family friendly cruises and beach trips to Hawaii.

I was less appreciative for their sacrifices than I should have been and more worried that it would someday happen to me.  I felt sorry for all the people who had whiny sniveling kids who required their parents to give up so much.  I thought spending a Saturday at the pool with a bunch of children seemed like a less fun option than sitting poolside with a magazine and a Diet Coke.  I spent a lot of time watching the time on the clock of my life that counted down to the days when I would be the sorry person stuck in the kiddie pool.

Last week we went to the splash pad at City Creek Mall.  We loaded up in a van that had no air conditioning and drove to downtown Salt Lake City in the heat of the day as I felt the first shocks of an oncoming migraine headache.  By the time we stepped into the oven roasted parking garage I thought to myself, "Well at least if I throw up everywhere it's on pavement and not in the car."

Getting out of the parking garage seemed like it would help but the beating sun on my aching head was worse and I felt trapped in a Catch 22 of bad options.  I couldn't get back into that stale hot car but I couldn't stay sitting in the hot sun either.  I looked down at Katelyn and caught sight of that innocent chubby face and precious toothy grin and realized the only option that motherhood allowed.

I had to get over myself for the sake of my baby.

I got up and changed Kate into her swimsuit and watched as Dave led her to the splash pad.  Soon I found myself standing at the edge of the spray watching her intently at first for safety's sake but eventually out of sheer amusement.

I watched as her stocky little legs carried a tubby little tummy and short little arms joltingly around the fountains.  She squealed with delight when the water shot upward and clapped when it rained back down.  With a scientific precision she studied the mechanics of the fountains around her.  She got down on the ground to get a better view and when the water sprayed in her face she reacted by simply blinking the water out of her eyes.  She had decided that further inspection was required so she got even closer and I watched the fearless daredevil spirit she was born with in action.  She spent the hour toddling around and watching the older children with a toddler's awed curiosity.

She was just having so much fun and within a few minutes I realized I was having fun too.  I almost couldn't believe it but if offered a cozy seat in an air conditioned room with a cold Diet Coke and a pedicure I would have turned it down.  (Well if I'm going to be one hundred percent honest and because I really love pedicures I will say that at the very least I would be really conflicted.)

I realized that I was finding a true sense of satisfaction from providing an environment where my baby could sense the contrast of the warm sunshine on her cheeks and the cold spray of water on her legs, where she could smell the unique scent of highly chlorinated water that is so characteristic of happy summer days, where she could feel the squish of wet shoes between her toes and the surprise of a spray of blue water.

I stood there the whole time with sweat running down the inside of my shirt and plastering my hair to my neck having a motherhood epiphany.  This is living, I thought.  This is the living my parents had been enjoying for years and I had pitied them for.  This was the kind of sacrifice that parents everywhere were enjoying everyday and this was why my parents never seemed to dread a Christmas morning where their piles of gifts were so insignificant compared to ours.  This was the exchange of comfort and fun for pure joy and happiness that you make the day that you leave the hospital with a squirming bundle of love and this was the trade that stretches you, pushes you, and ultimately changes you into a stronger, wiser, and better person with a larger capacity to love and care and feel for others.

Suddenly I wished that the hands of the clock could just take a break for a bit and that my senses could be heightened so that I could smell stronger, hear louder, and feel more distinctly this moment.  I wanted to stay standing at the rim of those fountains for another forever with the sun beating on my face and the sweat running down my back and the water streaking my makeup.  I wanted just another hour, another minute, another second to watch someone I love with an intensity I have only known about for the last fifteen months purely enjoying herself.  But that same sun was beating on her back and face and I worried about her sensitive porcelain skin getting burned so I knew that the moment was ending despite my internal pleading.  Once again, I had to sacrifice my wants.

But when I scooped her up and wrapped her in a soft towel to see two big beautiful eyes and a huge joyful smile I knew it was all totally worth it.