A Tourists Guide to Motherhood by way of One Hour in Washington D.C.
(They Never Even Left the Starbucks)
First, raise a teenager. Better yet, two. Then, have a teenage niece and nephew arrive in the nation’s capital for a stop on their youth choir trip, 20 minutes away from where you live. These four teenagers should send numerous non-committal texts to each other all week long about getting together until absolutely no actual plan has formed.
When a half-baked idea does rise, make sure it’s on a Friday when you have work deadlines and have volunteered to bring 5 lbs of buttered noodles to the Swim Team pep rally later that night. (Oh, and that severe thunderstorms are forecasted for the afternoon, even though you forgot to obsessively check all your apps that day!)
Call your sister-in-law. Between the two of you, translate the spotty Teenager into the language of Actual Adult Plans.
Way past what would be considered a normal time to drive into the city, i.e. very late afternoon, get in your car. If all goes according to plan, these four kids will have ONE FULL HOUR to spend together. They, of course, don’t care — they love each other and are psyched to traipse around Washington D.C. with nary a chaperone in sight.
Drop your teenagers off at a random corner on D St. A Starbucks is, supposedly, right past that big construction fence. Make them promise—promise—to text you when they meet up with the cousins.
Take a left turn then a right onto Independence Ave and pray, pray for a parking spot. Find one! Celebrate while simultaniously having a heated internal debate if the parking spot is too far from the National Gallery of Art: this isn’t close / you’re not going to find another spot / I’ll waste all my time walking / you love to walk!
Park. Text your teens because they haven’t texted you yet and if they’re not dead, they should have found their cousins by now.
Speed walk across the mall. Take note of the Capitol on your right and all the preparations being made for the Fourth of July. Turn and contemplate how dark the sky is above the Washington Monument on your left. While walking, finally check your weather app: no precipitation for the next 60 minutes! Phew. Completely out of character, trust the app implicitly over what you see with your eyes.
Skirt the security guards making sure no one enters the Sculpture Garden at this late hour, then quickly google if you want to go into the East or the West building of the art Gallery. (You want East.)
Upon entry, don’t pretend to know your way around. Approach the visitor’s desk and ask for a map. Then quickly realize you do know, it’s just been a while – Degas’ ballerinas are to your right, and the Monets and Matisses are upstairs.
At the beginning of the school year, almost an entire year ago, you and a friend had wistfully planned on taking one day a month to do something special. In between work and kids, the plan was to go to museums, galleries, on hikes—to have adventures. Take advantage of where you live.
Not once did you make it happen.
So this one hour now feels like a gift, something you normally wouldn’t do, but on a whim, checks the box of your heart’s desire—gloriously indulgent and deeply soul-filling.
Walk to the temporary Dante exhibit. Learn that the popularity of The Divine Comedy was in large part, because Dante wrote not in Latin (the accepted norm for literary works) but in the people’s everyday vernacular. Chew on this little fact while you also learn that Rodin’s The Thinker was originally made to be a part of two bronze doors, inspired by Dante’s Inferno, for his Gates of Hell. This work of art (The Thinker) became so popular on its own because a. Rodin didn’t follow the rules of finish and anatomical correctness and b. he allowed his works to be reproduced in multiple sizes and mediums.
Wonder.
Wander.
Stop in your tracks, almost trip—the way you would if one of your children bent over to pick up a coin on the ground right in front of you—when you walk into a room with a painting of a girl reading in a yellow dress. You cannot say why some unseen force has grabbed you, but you are so caught off guard by the unexpected memory of your mom—you almost choke back tears.
Did we have a replica of this in our home growing up? Was it in it a book? A postcard? Why does this remind me of her?
Stand and memorize the details of the painting, while simultaneously not remembering a thing.
Continue on through: the formal white men with big collars room, the ships on a tempestuous sea with the sun just breaking through the clouds room, the little paintings in big frames room.
Turn.
Gasp: Monet. Renoir. Serrat. They do that to you.
Sit on the couch in front of The Artist’s Garden at Vetheuil (Monet) for seven full minutes. Bask in the paintings of this room, as if they are the rays of the sun.
Walk back downstairs and be stopped by not one but three security guards who tell you the museum is closing in four minutes and do you really want to go this way? (Yes, do not go out the main exit and walk past the ballerinas, where there is a door on the west side of the building.) Which is great, because you are now 100 feet closer to your car that is nearly a half mile away.
What isn’t great? The crowd gathered at the door, confirming your suspicion: you’re about to walk into a torrential downpour. Exchange looks with a few parents, shrug, and then open the door.
This is the most important step of all: fully commit.
In motherhood, we have no choice but to do what must be done. Come hell or literal high water, some parts take your breath away and some parts soak you to your underwear.
Not for one second think about lifting the little paper map over your head to pretend you can shield yourself from getting wet. Tuck that baby into your armpit with your little fanny pack and try your best to protect your phone from permanent water damage. Before you even see your car, be so soaked, you honestly question if you’ve peed your pants.
When you finally get to your minivan, grab all the blankets you keep in your trunk “for emergencies” and pile them up onto your driver’s seat. Look like a soaking wet truck driver and go pick up those kids.
By the time you get to them, the rain will stop. Enjoy your time in the nation’s capital!
This is the best!
I love this piece Sonya! I felt like I was right there alongside you! Snaps for going and doing something magical to feed your soul despite the road blocks 🤗