Parenting nostalgia: The joy of caring for a toddler for a day - Nicky Rennie

Nicky Rennie exercised her Mum-Muscle when she looked after Grace, her neighbours' 2-year-old, for the day.

Don’t blink or you’ll miss it. That’s what they say about life.

I’ve never really been sure who “they” are, but “they” are wise and, as the journey carries on, my conclusion is that “they” are right.

When you are completely knee-deep in something, the sense of being overwhelmed is sometimes immense. You deal with things as they happen, you put out fires, make plans that mostly happen and sometimes don’t, you briefly stop for air or to take a look around at your surroundings, and then you dive right back into living. One. Stage. At. A. Time.

The next stage happens before the last one has finished, so you never really notice it until, one day, you take stock and you are suddenly 70, wondering where the hell that time went.

This is never more pertinent than with parenting.

The thing about getting through each of the life stages is that it’s sometimes great to have your skills tested again.

I got the chance to exercise my Mum-Muscle this week when I helped out my neighbours and looked after 2-year-old Grace for the day.

Even when you have raised your own children and they are still alive at 20 (I think mine is), doubt still creeps in. Gracie is no shrinking violet. This is the kid whose daycare supervisor told her mum that Grace has “leadership ability”. She has a 6-year-old brother but, make no mistake, Grace rules the roost.

The main thing I was worried about was whether or not she would perform when her mum left for work. Nope. Happy as a sandboy.

Once we got over that with no problems at all and we went inside, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. The level of organisation just to get out the door, planning everything around nap-time, packing food that you know she’ll eat without a fuss, and clicking her into the car seat before you drive off (remembering said kid in the first instance). Thank God her super-mum had packed the best little lunchbox in Whanganui. Off to the Boys and Girls Gym Club we went for a Music and Movement class.

I used to run the Boys and Girls Gym Club before it was taken over by Sport Whanganui. My opinion is that it is one of the best assets in the city. There aren’t many families that haven’t been to a birthday party there, or been to a class there, and I, for one, think we are damned lucky to have it. Anything that encourages kids to move and get off devices is massive.

The other thing it’s great for is reminding you how unfit and unyielding your body has become as you jump, hop, skip and run around. Even with a sprung floor to make it easier, it still hurts - and don’t start me on the trampoline.

However, as well as being great for the littlies, the time the other parents get to download, share and motivate each other is so necessary.

I remember that being palpable when Maggie was a toddler. It takes a village to raise a child and all that - and it really does. Coffee groups, walking groups, playdates. Whatever it takes, I say.

The other thing that I remembered was how much I hated taking my daughter to the park. That memory came flashing back as I galloped after Grace into the foam pit. Thank God for squishy edges at the gym club. I used to chase my girl around, thinking that she would fall and break herself and I had spent nine months growing her. I admire any father’s ability to let their children take more risks. I was a sissy.

I think Gracie and I got a gold medal for gym. We even went to the toilet like big girls with no accidents. Buoyed by that, we then went to Virginia Lake to feed the ducks, with continuous conversation while all the little synapses in her brain kept linking with one another. Growing small people is still a wonder to me.

I was also reminded that, just when you think something about parenting is difficult or you’ve hit a wall, they come running up to you and wrap you in sticky cuddles. My favourite part of Maggie to kiss was always the nape of her neck.

I’m not sure why, but it would appear that my penchant for neck napes isn’t confined to Maggie. It’s the fresh, warm smell of little person, complete with their fluffy wee hair. I was reminded why people keep going back to have more children. It’s their plump, soft hands as they count their fingers, mispronouncing words, their tiny head under your chin and their character taking shape. The 100-watt smiles, funny little tantrums and danger lurking when all is silent.

I discovered that parenting really is like riding a bike. The great thing about borrowing a child is that you can remind yourself of all the good things, and then hand them back in time for arsenic hour.

You’re welcome. Bye!