Rea Frey's Blog, page 3

Fourth Wedding Anniversary

Hours from now, I would have been getting ready to say “I do” in the Sofitel. All the arrangements would have been made–wedding arrangements Alex and I took care of all on our own–our desire to have a small, inexpensive wedding at the top of our list. There were no stressors, no indecision. We knew what we wanted and how we wanted it. The wedding was secondary.

As the doors opened and I came walking down the makeshift aisle, alone, the soft chorus of Hallelujah drifting around us, I felt as if I was owning my life. I was making an informed, yet passionate decision about who I wanted to spend my life with.

And four years later, it’s the absolute best decision of my life.

Though we have had many twists and turns along the way (hello, baby!), this I know: We will make it. Despite all the odds, the horrible divorce rates, the fact that we are only five years into our relationship, I’ve done my due diligence. I know, for me, what doesn’t and hasn’t worked. I know my downfalls, my flaws. Alex knows his (oh wait, he has none). We are ready and committed to do this, to stay together, to build and grow our family (maybe not in babies, but at least in books and design projects… and maybe a pet pig along the way).

As I was perusing a few of our photos, I was reminded of all the amazing moments we’ve spent together; how we’ve never been away from each other more than 48 hours; how we’ve gone to bed 1823 days together; how we’ve had 1823 mornings of coffees and good mornings; how we’ve woken up every day and chosen each other above everything and everyone else.

Even now.

As I look at my partner, my friend, and my husband, I am more in love now than I was when we first began dating. There’s so much we have yet to discover, and for this, I am excited.

Happy fourth anniversary… here’s to forty more.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

I love you in this way because I do not

know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I

or you, so intimate that your

hand upon my chest is my hand,

so intimate that when I fall asleep

your eyes close.

– Pablo Neruda

Letting Go

This past weekend was a first. Alex and I (by the sheer generosity of my parents) packed up and flew to Chicago to stay at the Sofitel to celebrate my upcoming birthday, our fourth wedding anniversary, my good friend, Heather Crosby’s YumUniverse book release, and one of my best friend’s, Jenny’s, 40th birthday party.
It was an action-packed 48 hours, and we did it quietly, not alerting any of our friends that we were coming in so we could actually focus on each other.
This was Alex’s first time being away from Sophie, and only my second. As we hoisted our bag into the car, I felt selfish; guilty. What was I doing taking time for myself when I had a little daughter who depended on me? On us? What if we plummeted to our death and left her parentless?
As my father took Sophie to school for the first time and my mother drove us to the airport, she reassured me that we needed this–that I needed this. “Enjoy every moment,” she said. “Sophie will be great. Stay present.”
And that we did. Every time I go back to Chicago, I get sucked in. The familiar smells of the el, the hot blasts of air that drift, pungent like hot dogs and dirt, from the grates into the air; the never-ending construction that all fades into the cacophony of traffic horns and city sounds; the paved streets, some pristine, others filled with grit; the icy blast of the November wind; the perfectly executed buildings, linear, clear, and definitively rocketing up into the sky; the ability–finally–to pull a scarf a little tighter and to revel in giant, thick, black cups of coffee and good Chicago food that we crave almost daily.



We checked into Sofitel (AKA the best hotel in the world) and ventured off to Tempo, our old standby, and then into Barnes and Noble, a weekend tradition when we lived here. Being kid-free meant I got to peruse freely. I gathered up seven novels in my arms and took them over to a chair to read the first few pages of each. I allowed myself just one. Liane Moriarty, a new find for me, was just what I was in the mood for. Good writing, a little mystery, and plenty of twists and turns to keep me entertained.



Our trip unfolded in layers: food (always food), relaxation, “adult” time, reading, miles of walking, socializing at our two friends’ massive events, more food, more walking, shopping, more relaxation, and a slight view into what our lives once were when we first started dating almost five years ago.



As we woke without an alarm, ate a delicious breakfast and ducked into store after store, ransacking clothes and bins, I thought, “Is this what people do on the weekends?” My weekends are structured: workout, breakfast for the family, playground, lunch, nap time for Sophie, a post-nap activity, dinner, and bed time for the little one. It rarely differs, and when and if it does, I always welcome the change.

But I didn’t realize how much I needed to just let go. Alex and I were allowed to be spontaneous–to be free.

Our daughter, though she didn’t sleep much while we were gone, coped beautifully (and even got some new bangs, which make her look like a damn teenager. What a beauty.). We paid for her fatigue when we got home in the form of a toddler’s wrath, but we came home more refreshed and ready to tackle our days (and her mood swings).

But one thing is clear: We miss Chicago. It is our home and will always feel that way. But for now, for this moment, we are committed to our lives in Nashville–to do what’s best for our daughter.

And as it so often happens in motherhood as one weekend leaks into the next and the running joke to other mothers is, “What do you have planned this weekend?” to which we look at each other and just laugh and laugh, at least I can say today that we had a truly unforgettable weekend.

One that I will cherish for quite some time.

Growing Pains

Today, Sophie ventured over to primary school. Up until now, she’s been with me and Alex or in her toddler Montessori class, where she’s made fourteen other friends. In there, she’s the helper, the “big kid,” the leader. She helps the babies up and down the steps. She folds blankets. She does yoga. She knows the routine.

Now, she will follow; she will stumble; she will be introduced to new children (germs), new policies, and she will have to navigate the way by herself.

I’ve watched this shift manifest lately at the playground, as she latches on to older children and chases them around, while they don’t even realize they are being chased. Her legs are too little. She runs too slow. Their peals of laughter mimic hers, but they are long gone. They are big kids with big dreams. She is a toddler on a mission.

And these are growing pains.

Yesterday, her friend Ollie met us at the park. As darkness descended, we herded them back toward our cars. Ollie’s mom suggested they hold hands and walk. They did, and what ensued was the most adorable thing I have yet to encounter as a parent.

Our almost two-and-a-half-year-olds launched into a full-blown conversation, replete with complete sentences and observations. They talked about the moon, about their houses, about rocks, about not running. It was probably a span of three minutes, but we watched, rapt with attention, both of us without our phones to capture the moment.

Which was the best moment of all. I wasn’t watching it behind my camera–I was watching it in front of me. I wasn’t clicking buttons or posting to FB. I was storing it in my mind. This person who grew in my belly and this other person who grew in Helena’s belly, and here they were, making observations about the world.

It was miraculous, this little walk. It taught me that so much of my role as a parent is going to be on the other side of the lens. Observing, biting my tongue, offering suggestions when possible, always keeping her safe, but letting her hold hands and talk.

She is already, at this young stage, her own person, and I am just a witness. A mother. A friend. A mentor. A protector. A guardian.

As she was dropped off at a different school today, I realized how quickly things change. How her hugs, at once so fierce, will someday loosen, and then disappear as she ushers herself into the moody teenage years. How her demands of dance parties and spinning her around and around until she’s dizzy will probably be replaced by a firm, “Get out of my room, Mom.”

Someday.

But today is not that day. As I count down the hours until I pick her up, until she gesticulates about her day on our car ride home, I will get my work done. I will try not to worry if she’s eating enough, if she knows where the new bathroom is, if she will be able to sleep in a brand new environment without all her creature comforts of the toddler school.

I will sip my coffee and meet my deadlines and know that motherhood, with all its infinite layers and negotiations, is still the best job one can do.

I will do this because this is who I am.

I will keep the conversation going. I will hold her hand. I will listen.

And then, when needed, when she tells me she’s ready, I will let go.

Harness the Power

World, meet the harness. No, this is not a sex toy article. The exercise harness and I go way back. For just $20, I have tortured clients (and myself) by using nothing but body weight, a partner, and a little resistance. I’ve made college rugby athletes wimper, boosted my endurance to peak levels, and even trained boxing clients to punch while wearing it.

What can you do with this handy device?

1. Bear Crawls: Have a partner hold the handle as you drop down to your hands and toes. Begin “crawling” forward by bending your left knee and moving it forward (your left knee should almost kick your left elbow). Keep your butt down and continue moving forward with your right arm and leg. Alternate arms and legs crawling forward, using your core to propel you forward. Try not to swivel your hips. In a harness, this will torch your quads.

2. Sprint/Back Pedal: Take off into a sprint, driving knees as high as you can. Use your arms to drive forward as fast as you can. (This is where resistance is useful.) Once at the other end, flip the harness around so it clips in the back. Sit down into a squat and walk backwards, using your arms to drive yourself backwards to the starting point. This is one set. Aim for three complete sets.

3. Lateral Shuffles: Face left and sink down into a mini-squat. With your partner resisting and a flat back, begin shuffling to your left, keeping your hips facing front and resisting against the harness. Perform one way and then switch sides.

4. Broad Jumps: Find an open space. Squat, swinging your arms back. Propel your body forward and land softly on your heels, sinking into a squat. Continue jumping forward for all reps. Your partner should give you light resistance on the jump and no resistance when you land.

5. Broad Jump/Burpee: Perform a broad jump and immediately squat down until your hands touch the floor. Shoot your feet back to a push-up position, lower into a push-up and then push back up. Jump feet in toward hands and stand up. Immediately jump forward to execute another broad jump. (Note: If you are holding the harness handle, give light resistance as your partner performs a broad jump and no resistance as he/she performs a burpee.)

6. Walking Lunges: Have your partner give you a decent amount of resistance and take a big step forward with your right leg. Keep your upper body upright. Lower into a lunge, tapping the back left knee on the ground. Push off your right leg to come back to standing and immediately lunge forward with the left leg. Make sure knees do not extend past toes. Squeeze glutes with every resisted step.

My hubby and I often throw three sets of one exercise into our workouts after a strength component (and we repeat this throughout the entire workout). A great way to get stronger and have fun in the process.

Some old, old stuff…

Enjoy!

Happy Birthday, Sophie!!!

Today, you are two.

Today, you have low pigtails, hair in your eyes and a gap between your teeth.

Today, you can say almost any word, with your garbled, expanding vocabulary.

Today, you will stay home from school; you will go to the zoo and make noises at the animals. Later, you will eat vegan pizza with your family as you shout, “Pizza! Pizza!” and play with your dusty ball of dough and grown up water cup until they bring out your pie.

Tomorrow, we will throw a small party and help you blow out your candles, two slim waxy lines.

Today, you have been alive for 730 days. You have cried, slept, ate, pooped, crawled, stood, walked, run, talked, learned, and played. But you have done more than that. You have changed the lives of the people who love you. Not by making us “proud” with your accomplishments, but simply by being you. You smile, and the whole world crumbles. No deadlines, no errands to run, no house to clean. Just your unsoiled simple smile, your perfect breath, and those little hands that rub my back in times of duress, just as I rub yours.

“Hi, Mama,” you will say, and I want to record your voice, memorize its tone, because you are the very best part of me.

If I’m being honest, it’s taken me two years to get a handle on parenting. I have accepted that things will probably never be as they were, and I’m not mourning who I was, but rather looking forward to who I am. Now. Here. With you.

When you take my hand, when you say, “Come on, Mama,” when you whine because I’m working instead of playing, I shut the computer down. I put the phone away. I look, and I listen, and I memorize, the peals of your laughter that will become less prevalent over the coming years.

But I won’t let you. I will remind you to stand tall, to look up, to laugh when you want to laugh, to clutch tightly to your imagination. I will teach you to never stop playing or dreaming, even when the whole world tells you to stop, to grow up, to get a real job, to get married, to settle down, to stop messing around.

I will tell you to defy the odds, to play harder, to dream bigger, to laugh the loudest of anyone in the room.

One day soon, you won’t want to play with me. One day soon, you will be too big to cuddle, and I will wither a little from the memories of nibbling your toes and kissing the backs of your knees and cradling your elbows and burying my face in your neck. I will cling to the memories of asking you for a kiss and feeling your perfect lips smack mine with a satisfied smile. I will miss running my fingers through your tangled hair and rocking you against my breast and watching your crazy legs run through our house as you squeal and squeal and squeal.

Please. Never stop squealing.

I will miss watching you learn; hearing your teachers say that you are special, that you are “advanced,” that you’re such a helper. I will miss you being young. I will stare at photographs of us as a family and wish so much for times to be as simple as they are now – even when they don’t feel like it – and I will probably shrink a little for how things “used to be.”

One day, you will understand.

These two years have not been easy. My resistance has been apparent in my quick temper and exhausted sighs. I’m not always the most patient or the most understanding, but neither are you. That’s what makes us alike. We are stubborn, you and I; we don’t have much patience because we want the world to be as we see it: vibrant and clean and giving; passionate and easy and round. We see the world, and we want to inhale it like breakfast, not stopping to chew, because who has time for that? We’ve got things to do. Waiting doesn’t exist for us.

Over these past two years, in posts I’ve written about you, I’ve tagged them with sarcasm, let them drip with annoyances and eye rolls and sighs. But, if I’m being honest, I love you more than anything in this world.

I love you more than I will ever love me.

In a time of entrepreneurial, self-involved, self-serving parents who hover over their children like umbrellas, with our endless refrains of “Don’t do that! Don’t eat that! Honey, listen to mama! What did Mama say? Did you wash your hands? What do we say? I’m giving you a warning! We don’t do that! Okay, buddy, you’re going to get a time out! Is that gluten-free? Is that organic? Is that dairy-free? Is that hypoallergenic? Is that BPA free? Is that (gasp) made in China?” it can seem uncool to love your child in a simple world, because we’ve complicated it to no end.

But there’s nothing free about it.

And yet loving you is free. Loving you is effortless. All this “junk” that goes along with it is just that: junk. You don’t have to go to the top school or get the newest toy or apply for preschool when you’re still in the womb. All you need is for us to trust you, to let you thrive, to back off.

To let your breathe.

So if I’m being honest, I don’t want things to change. I don’t want to watch the innocence fall away to something else. I don’t want to watch your obsession with water and grass and sunshine shrink to an iPad held in your hands. I don’t want dolls and legos to ever seem uncool. I don’t want you to get a job when you’re thirteen. I don’t want kids to make fun of you. I don’t want you to feel stressed from school. I don’t want you to “grow up” the way everyone thinks you have to: school, job, marriage, babies, taxes, retirement home, death. There’s more to life than that.

There’s the in between, and that’s where I hope you live.

So, this is your mother speaking: You do what the fuck you want to. You be who you want to be.

Today, you are just beginning, yet you seem to have it all figured out. You know how to have a good day, how to be independent, how to make others smile and laugh and slow down. You know how to scream – so loud, my eardrums ring. You know without knowing, Sophie, which is the very best way to be.

Happy second Birthday to the girl I adore. To the girl that has changed my life. I finally “get” it. All the sleepless nights and sacrifices and strains on relationships and my social life and my body. Fuck that. Fuck all of it.

Because I understand: I am a parent. I am your mother. You are my daughter.

And things are exactly as they should be.

How to Cook… the Easy Way!

I love to cook. Or, I used to love to cook. Well, I used to love to make easy recipes that require me dumping food in a bowl and saying, “Ta-Da!”

While some of my favorite blogs have gorgeous food with ingredient lists a mile long, in the words of a working mom (and YouTube sensation): “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

Lately, my hubby and I have gotten into a massive rut eating pasta and other carby things that take little to no time to make. We’ve been eating carbs like carbs are going out of style. (They’re not. They’re here to stay, so suck it Paleo people.) Since we’re active, we need a certain amount of “good” carbs, but three pounds of brown rice pasta at night when all I’m going to do is curl up on the couch and watch Masters of Sex? I think not. 

And then I stumbled upon my two favorite vegan cookbooks ever. And I’m not just being dramatic. They’re amazing in every way: Thrive Energy Cookbook by Brendan Brazier and The Oh She Glows Cookbook by Angela Liddon. Rarely do I stumble upon vegan cookbooks with food so simple, healthy, tasty and wildly varied. Thrive is more well-suited for people who live athletic lives and want simple, yummy recipes with nutrient-dense ingredients. There are recipes and meal plans for those who want to “transition,” who want o eat a more standard diet and for athletes. For those of you who follow Angela’s blog, you know what her food is all about. While I find her heavy on the salt and the portions a bit small (Mama likes to eat!), the recipes are spot on.

I loaded up on way too many groceries at the dreaded Whole Paycheck Foods and decided to delve in. I haven’t eaten this well in ages. I feel energetic (despite not sleeping from the tiny terrorist that is our daughter); my nails and hair are growing like weeds and all systems are fully functioning. It’s GO TIME, colon. Literally.

Some of our faves from this week?

Black Bean Veggie Burger Patties with Cashew Sour Cream and Arugula, Pear and Beet Salad (Thrive)

Sweet Potato, Black Bean and Sweet Corn Chili with Veganic Sprouted Grilled Cheese (Daiya) with Edamame Hummus (Thrive)

(I have no more pictures, because I ate everything as soon as I made it. Whoops.) 

Almond Butter Cups (Thrive)

10-Spice Vegetable Soup with Cashew Cream (OSG)

Kale Mojito (Thrive)

Peanut Butter Dough Bites (OSG)

Power Goddess Bowl (OSG)

Oh, the list goes on.

So, whether you’re a vegetarian or an omnivore, step outside your eating box and try some simple recipes that will give you energy without breaking the bank. 

Meatless Monday: Chocolate Pudding!

I love making homemade desserts, but sometimes life gets in the way (or my TODDLER gets in the way, to be more precise). Because we don’t eat dairy, sometimes I still want that “ice cream” or yogurt texture, especially after dinner.

Thank God for the avocado. If you have a blender or food processor, throwing in an avocado, some cocoa powder and a dab of molasses will cure your sweet fix every time.

If that’s too much work, check out So Delicious Greek Style Dairy-Free Cultured Coconut Milk Yogurt (plain, vanilla or chocolate). Though these do have some of those tricky “guar gums” in them, a once-in-a-while treat won’t hurt. Mix with chia seeds and fresh berries, pop in the freezer and eat like ice cream. Yum.

Fitness Friday: Quick Workout!

Sometimes, you just don’t have time for a big workout. One of my favorite fitness shortcuts is to pick three exercises and repeat them for 5 reps for 5 rounds. Even if you only have ten minutes, you can spike your heart rate and boost strength.

A great variation of the 5×5 is to pick three exercises and perform each for 5 reps, then 4, then 3, 2 and 1. Pick exercises that are more difficult in nature to challenge yourself.

Featured today:

Kamikaze push-up: Squat down and touch the floor in front of you. Explode your legs back into a plank position and immediately lower into a push-up. Hop back to a crouched position. This is one repetition.

Lunge jumps: Begin in a lunge, hands behind your head. Jump up and switch to the opposite leg lunge and immediately lower to the ground. Repeat.

Pull-ups: Find a bar and hang from it. Slowly pull yourself up to where your chin comes near the bar and lower. Repeat.

Bronco burpees: Squat and place hands on the floor. Using your core, shoot both legs to the ceiling into a handstand. Lower both legs down at the same time and jump straight up. Repeat for reps.

Hip escapes: Start in a push-up position. Lifting your right hand, shoot your left leg through toward the right, keeping it in line with your hip. Keep your right leg bent, knee up, toes pointing back. Quickly bring that leg back through and lift left hand and shoot right leg through. This is one rep.

Alternating get-ups: Sit down, bending left knee and extend right leg in front of left. Press right hand into the ground behind right hip. Using your core, pop your right foot back behind you, pressing off the right hand. Immediately sit back down and bend right leg and extend left leg, placing left hand on the floor. Pop up and then back down, alternating sides for reps.

Happy 15 Months!

Happy 15 months, Sophie!

Dear Sophie,

Today, you are 15 months old.

Today, you are 450 days, 10,800 hours, and 648,000 minutes.

Today, you wear a blue and white jumper and pink sparkly shoes.

Today, you have a vocabulary of 16 words. You can identify your eyes, ears, nose, mouth, tongue, belly, boobs and vagina. You can even attempt to say the word “vagina” as you poke you finger into mine.

Today, you turn somersaults on the grass and run through the house with glee.

Today, you are alive. You are full of energy. You are moving all day, just as you’re supposed to.

Today, you charge after our puppy with outstretched hands and a shrill screech.

Today, you are more beautiful than yesterday. You are smarter, kinder, faster. You are everything.

Today, you try to balance on a wooden pot, your bottle, and a white, plastic bowl.

Today, I turn around for only a moment and you have climbed up onto the coffee table, arms outstretched like a surfer, ready to catch an imaginary wave.

Today, you play by yourself and I watch you, amazed, enthralled, proud and so overwhelmed.

Today, you hug the back of my knees, my waist, and my neck.

Today, you give me 21 kisses ,12 hugs, and 32 smiles.

Today, you call me “mama” from 7a.m. to 7p.m. It is the best word I’ve ever heard.

Today, you are no longer a baby. You are growing into a little girl.

Today, I am so into being your mother, I know nothing else of what’s happening in the world.

Today, you help me make almond butter chocolate chip cookies and eat 13 blueberries and run through the house shouting “nana, nana!” until I gave you several bites of a banana.

Today, you nurse at 7:30 pm before pulling away and saying “night night” to let Alex read you a story and put you to bed.

Today, I get 37 minutes to myself, to sit down and write this, while Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis drones in the background and my hubby and puppy sit, curled beside me. And you, asleep in your room, a big girl at last.

Today, I honor you. I marvel. I blink and here you are, a fully formed being with shiny, blond hair, almond shaped eyes and 16 teeth nestled behind those pink lips.

Today, I think you are a baby genius because there’s nothing you cannot do or say or communicate.

Today, you wave hello to everyone you pass and several adults don’t see you or hear you. I call them assholes behind their backs and will people to look at you. How can you not see that my daughter is waving at you? Stop what you’re doing and marvel with me!!!!!!

Today, I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a granddaughter, an athlete, a nutritionist, a blogger, and an employee.

Today, I am quiet as I observe you, my daughter: Sophie Leona Holguin.

Today, as I have been every day over the last 15 months, I am entirely, completely, and irrevocably yours.

 

Wait, My Kid Has To Play With Your Kid?

Sophie’s first haircut. Now she looks like Justin Bieber. Awesome.

I have news (and no, I’m not pregnant).

My child is sleeping through the night. After 14 months of thrashing, crying and waking every 2-3 hours no matter what, the trick was this: shutting her damn door. That’s it. No laborious crying it out, no feeling guilty about her not being in bed with us or finding her wailing and running circles in her room (though this did happen a few times). All she needed was some darkness. And a bedtime routine that consists of eating, bath, milk, story time and Alex putting her to bed, leaving me time to sit on the couch with a novel or bad reality television (which is glorious). And shutting the door.

Over the past few weeks, I have been introduced to playground life – a strange hybrid of individuals who watch their children play while pretend to have things in common with the other adults standing next to them. We all ooh and aah at each other’s babies, ignoring our aching backs or the direct sunlight boring a hole in our brains. It’s all about slides and climbing and sharing! Oh my!

With the recent rain, my friend, Stephanie, and her cutie, Jones, met Alex, Sophie and I at Opry Mills so the tots could run around indoors. As we perused H&M, the little ones hid in racks of clothing, dancing to the loud music and throwing themselves to the ground with glee. Once they tired of that, we went to the indoor “play” area, which is tiny and houses benches all along the perimeter, so exhausted parents can sit and observe while their crazy ass children run, climb, and stomp all over each other.

Stephanie assured me it was never crowded, but when we walked up, there were over 40 children of various ages (six months-10 years old, easily). I could feel myself hyperventilate as the cacophony of tinny voices racked my eardrums.

“Um, um.” I looked around, but Stephanie had already let Jones loose and was glancing back at me. How did she have that confidence? And where could I get some? I parked the stroller next to hers (was I supposed to just leave it here, unattended? This was an Orbit stroller. I would steal it if I found one just lounging around.) and told Alex to watch them. I passed by the antibacterial pump and pressed the tube. Nothing. Nothing!!! Sophie had already entered the mini-hell so I didn’t even have time to wipe down both of our hands. I sidled up behind her, realizing I was the only parent walking two feet behind my child with my arms extended. I stood up self-consciously and ignored my dire need for two bubble wrap suits to protect me from these infectious beasts. Snot, scrapes, scabs and coughs emanated from every open mouth and pore. I wished for my friend Lauren to witness this, as she would have yanked her son and Sophie to safety and been out of there.

I looked at all the objects there to climb, some so tall, that if Sophie got to the top and toppled off, she’d break her neck for sure. Who built this death trap? Could we sue if she fell? Had these toys ever been wiped down, or were they just loaded with viruses ready to attack?

I took my place on the bench beside Stephanie, wringing my hands in a ball. I glanced back at Alex, who was tucked safely outside this little prison, guarding our strollers.

“This is Alex’s idea of hell,” I said.

“Why?” she asked. “Is it nerves or all the kids?”

“Everything,” I said. “This is so hard for me, since I’m a germaphobe.”

She placed her hand on my knee (was her hand even clean?). “If this makes you too uncomfortable, we can go.”

I took a deep breath. “No, it’s good. This is good for her. I have to get over it. It’s my problem, not hers.”

I watched Sophie watching the other kids. She ran tentatively from one object to the next, always keeping her eyes peeled for me. My heart swelled as she climbed and played. I began to relax – that is, until this beast of a nine-year-old kept trying to run over the giant toy guitar Sophie was resting on, screaming, “Hey! Excuse me!” and even bumped her several times. It took everything I had not to hip check her right out of this little play area. Why would a nine-year-old even want to be in here? Shouldn’t she be texting all her friends or shopping for something? Wasn’t playing with babies when you were nine 2013 just so lame? I wanted to tell all of her friends. But I bet she didn’t have any because she was so mean and pushy.

We endured the play for a while longer before I captured Sophie and wiped her hands with fresh wipes. Stephanie and I parted ways and I counted the days until Sophie would get sick (if exposed to anything): probably two or three, which would put us just in time for the weekend! Great. And our friends were coming in town.

As Sophie passed out in the backseat, I fretted that she hadn’t even eaten anything, and I hadn’t packed her snacks. So she’d probably lose weight on top of getting sick, which would be my fault.

But as I glanced at the videos I took of her playing, her cheeks rosy, her limbs free, I knew that this was just the beginning. Playing was how she would learn about the world, and no germs could stop her from living the way she was intended to.

I took a deep breath and sat back in the hot seat, as we made our way home.

“We survived,” I said. “I can’t believe we have to be in the same vicinity as other kids for, like, years.”

“Did you see that one big girl who kept getting in Sophie’s way?”

“Uh, I wanted to punch her!”

“I wanted to karate chop her in the throat.”

I squeezed Alex’s hand. “Thank you for being so weird with me.”

“My pleasure. There’s no one I’d rather be so weird with.”

“Sophie’s going to hate us, isn’t she?”

He shrugged. “Probably at some point. But for now, she loves us.”

“Because we let her play with germy kids.”

“We played with germy kids. And we’re fine.”

“But I think kids are getting grosser. I’m pretty sure.” I spritzed some natural hand sanitizer on my hands. “I’m getting better, I think, though. With the germs.”

“Obviously.”

We drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to our daughter’s steady breath and the hum of the classical music she loved on 91.1.