Ayo means joy. I took my daughter, not quite 2, to a gym playgroup for the first time this week. She’s never been to daycare, but is always eager to engage with other littles when we encounter them in the wild. I assumed this meant she’d be excited for the chance to be social and climb and jump and fall somewhere soft. But the moment we walked into the play space her energy contracted. She drew in close to me the way she does when unknown men are near. 

The class began with music and noise-making and I thought that would be the thing to light her fire. Instead, it made her cling tighter. Her little arms wrapped my legs in an unreasonable embrace that wanted neither of us to budge. I had a flush of panic: “Oh no she hates it. Oh no I’ve waited too long to “socialize” her. Oh no she’s somehow deficient. Bad mommy. Bad, bad mommy!” But soon, with the help of the gentle class leader, I let those anxious thoughts pass and came back to the moment with my girl. 

Instead of rushing her to be like the others, I gave us both some space. We stood back from the group and watched. We turned and looked all around us, taking in the expanse of the room, seeing the shapes and colors of the equipment, noticing sunshine landing on a low beam near a window. The truth is there was a lot to take in and just observing was enough. Soon, her grip on mama loosened. Next, a ginger step in the direction of the class. And then, an enthusiastic round of applause as a classmate completed a skill. By the end of the hour, though still not ready to swing from the rings, she was toddling about, engaged and smiling.

***

Obi means magic. Last month I left my 9to5. This week I started something new that, although exciting, makes me a little scared. It’s a new environment, with new ways of being and a new set of peers that fascinate and humble me with their skill and confident movements. I’ve had moments of panic: “Oh no, I’m not accomplished enough. Oh no, I’m too old for this. Oh no, what if I waste my chance. Again.” 

Recoiling at the fear and uncertainty, I’ve browsed job openings or entertained recruiter emails. There’s a part of me that wants to cling to the comfort of what I already know and another part prodding me to hurry up and be amazing in this new venture. But then I take a step back and look at my life. I remember my little joy and do my best to allow the same gentle patience for myself as I hope the world will continue to have for her.

The truth is, sometimes the most magical things begin slowly. Sometimes simply being present with the possibilities is sufficient. Maybe, I’ll soon be ready to take a leap and laugh at the soft landing. And if the best I can do right now is observe and cheer on my new friends, that’ll be enough.

***

🌷

at every decade I’m surprised

to learn i’m still the same flower

ever-blooming with the promise of fruit

Ayo means joy. I took my daughter, not quite 2, to a gym playgroup for the first time this week. She’s never been to daycare, but is always eager to engage with other littles when we encounter them in the wild. I assumed this meant she’d be excited for the chance to be social and climb and jump and fall somewhere soft. But the moment we walked into the play space her energy contracted. She drew in close to me the way she does when unknown men are near. 

The class began with music and noise-making and I thought that would be the thing to light her fire. Instead, it made her cling tighter. Her little arms wrapped my legs in an unreasonable embrace that wanted neither of us to budge. I had a flush of panic: “Oh no she hates it. Oh no I’ve waited too long to “socialize” her. Oh no she’s somehow deficient. Bad mommy. Bad, bad mommy!” But soon, with the help of the gentle class leader, I let those anxious thoughts pass and came back to the moment with my girl. 

Instead of rushing her to be like the others, I gave us both some space. We stood back from the group and watched. We turned and looked all around us, taking in the expanse of the room, seeing the shapes and colors of the equipment, noticing sunshine landing on a low beam near a window. The truth is there was a lot to take in and just observing was enough. Soon, her grip on mama loosened. Next, a ginger step in the direction of the class. And then, an enthusiastic round of applause as a classmate completed a skill. By the end of the hour, though still not ready to swing from the rings, she was toddling about, engaged and smiling.

***

Obi means magic. Last month I left my 9to5. This week I started something new that, although exciting, makes me a little scared. It’s a new environment, with new ways of being and a new set of peers that fascinate and humble me with their skill and confident movements. I’ve had moments of panic: “Oh no, I’m not accomplished enough. Oh no, I’m too old for this. Oh no, what if I waste my chance. Again.” 

Recoiling at the fear and uncertainty, I’ve browsed job openings or entertained recruiter emails. There’s a part of me that wants to cling to the comfort of what I already know and another part prodding me to hurry up and be amazing in this new venture. But then I take a step back and look at my life. I remember my little joy and do my best to allow the same gentle patience for myself as I hope the world will continue to have for her.

The truth is, sometimes the most magical things begin slowly. Sometimes simply being present with the possibilities is sufficient. Maybe, I’ll soon be ready to take a leap and laugh at the soft landing. And if the best I can do right now is observe and cheer on my new friends, that’ll be enough.

***

🌷

at every decade I’m surprised

to learn i’m still the same flower

ever-blooming with the promise of fruit