Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuzz: Dr. Seuss character at the end of the ABCs book.
Lilah and I snuggle together on her bed, her head nestled on my chest. Every night she chooses two books to read before bed. Tonight we start with Dr. Seuss’s ABC. It’s a book I’ve read a hundred times to three different children.
Big A, little a. What begins with A?
“Alligator!” says Lilah, pointing to an extremely long torso-ed reptile painted across pages four and five. A smug looking Aunt Annie is riding on his back holding the reins.
We move on to B for barber, baby, bubbles and bumblebee, then C for camel on the ceiling. The creatures and personalities in Dr. Seuss’s ABC are relatively run of the mill. They are silly yes, engaging in ridiculous, often imaginary scenarios, for sure, but not entirely surprising. Except for the dreamed of duckdog, the fluffy Fiffer-feffer-feff which is clearly some species of bird and the Queen of Quincy’s quacker-oo of a duck, Seuss’s alphabetical zoo is quite ordinary.
Until you get to Z.
Big Z, little z. What begins with Z? I do. I am a Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuzz as you can plainly see.
The Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuzz gazes sweetly from the page with its bright yellow eyes, a shock of fuchsia hair, a long snout, a fuzzy pink and white checkerboard of a body and a long swishy tail. Light-hearted rhymes about elephants and goats, hungry horses and lazy lions don’t really prepare you to meet this entirely new species of creature, the Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuzz. It is here, on the book’s final page that the ordinary gives way to the extraordinary.
A month ago when I started this practice of writing everyday, I worried. I wasn’t sure I could actually write something coherent or halfway meaningful day after day for an entire month. I worried I’d run out of things to write about. I worried I wouldn’t find the time or space in my harried stay-at-home life to get the job done.
I’m no going to lie: all of my worst fears about writing daily came true. I stressed, I failed, I started over. Some days I couldn’t find time until late into the night after everyone else in my house had gone to bed and all I wanted to do was sleep. I blew off meetings and making dinner, grocery shopping and the gym, countless emails, voice mails and invitations. But I kept going. Then, around the middle of the month, I sensed a shift. I stopped wondering if I’d really be able to post that day because, yes, no matter what else was going on, I definitely would post that day and the next and the next.
I learned to trust myself.
Before I wrote one word today, I made lunches for all three girls, warmed up the weekend’s extra French toast for breakfast, helped the toddler choose between a flowered skirt or a pair of shorts and reconstructed the intricate harness on her car seat because I’d had to dismantle it to wash after she’d peed in it the day before. I took the dog for a walk, made a Facebook post for a client, dropped off Lilah at preschool, took myself for a walk with a dear friend, got my teeth cleaned, took my mom out for an early Mother’s Day lunch and stopped for gas before picking up my girls from school.
Typical day. Ordinary tasks.
Yet inspiration is everywhere. It’s in the song on the radio and in the toy box. It’s in the middle of the road and it’s at Disneyland. It’s at the far end of a telescope and in the pages of my child’s favorite book. It is in a handwritten note and in a quickly dashed off text. It is in the gift of knowing I will begin again and again.
The extraordinary is happening. Everyday.
This is my final post for the April 2014 A to Z Challenge. Writing everyday has been exhausting and invigorating and I hope I will continue to write as often as possible. Thank you to everyone for reading and sharing your thoughts. You can find writing by other bloggers who took on the #atozchallenge at Blogging from A to Z Challenge.