Growing up I remember I wanted something that I could hold and cuddle and call my own. Got a puppy and it turned into a lot of work that, at the time, I didn’t want to do.Now that I’m a little bit older and have actually matured I have noticed something… I have similar or the same desires I had as a child. I want something or someone I can hold and cuddle, protect and defend, guide and teach. Bit by bit I’ve started realized this, but it came blazing to my attention all of a sudden last night as I was putting Emma to sleep.
Last night all the children were wide open. They were running from room to room with little to no clothes on. The girls were screaming with pure enjoyment while they jumped on the couch or chair, doing their little waggly-butt hot-footed dance and grinning from ear to ear. Nathan found his “broom” and was flying through the house playing Quidditch (as he is Harry Potter, I even gave him a scar on his forehead by accident…) and jumping from couch to chair to couch to pillow-on-floor and back again. By 9:30 I had had enough. Kristin was in bed and asked for the girls. I sent them in there with hopes of them falling asleep. I told Nathan to go on to his room and that I would be in after a while to tell him good night.
When I went in our room Kate was snuggled up to Kristin and was pushing Emma away, which in turn left little room on my side of the bed. Emma had left just enough room for me to lay down beside her, so, without much ado, I did. When I laid down she cuddled up to me, put her arm around my neck, and pushed her cheek against my mouth so I would *have* to kiss her. As her face was nuzzled against mine she fell asleep. I have had them fall asleep on my chest before, but never on my face. It’s different. I actually got to feel her falling asleep on my lips (which are really quite sensitive).
It was … to describe it in a word … amazing. I felt her breathing slow down and the muscles in her face relaxing. Her neck relaxed and bent according to the incline of the pillow.Once her neck bent she started to slid down the pillow, as well as my face. My lips went from her cheek to her cheek bone to behind her left eye to her forehead and then finally her slightly sweaty hairline. All the while my lips were moving across her face I could smell her exhales and the fumes from her newly washed hair. I could smell the sweat starting to rise from her skin. The only thing I could think of was, “This is mine, I did this, I made her, she is my daughter.” It was magical.
I needed to go to the store to buy some cough syrup and hated to get up from my 6 in. of space in bed. I got up from bed, ran to the store, bought the syrup, and got home as quick as I could. When I got home I made sure everyone was still asleep. Nathan surprised me, he wasn’t. It was 10:30 by this time and he was in his room, lights off, and talking to him self. When I walked in his door he looked up and told me to be good, have sweet dreams, and sleep well. He said it in such a gentle voice that sounded so full of knowledge that I could hardly believe he is only almost 5. I kissed him on his forehead and read for a little bit, as I wasn’t tired. I had no plans on moving the girls from my bed as I wanted to lie back down and nuzzle Emma’s head again. Around 11 Nathan finally quite talking to himself and fell asleep. Shortly after I went back to bed and held Emma and went on to sleep.
Last night was special to me. I don’t know how to explain it. Hope this let you know a little of it. Yes, the children drive me insane, yes I get short with them, and yes sometimes I would rather be knee deep in muck while at work; but I consider the times like last night and realize that I’ve made the right choice for me. This is something I’ve wanted since I was probably eight. Every time I lay down with one of the children it just clicks, it feels like I am supposed to be there, it feels right. I don’t mind waking up with kinks in my arms and neck and in the wrong room (as what happened just a couple nights ago), I don’t mind stepping on little toys that were designed to cut the bottoms of my feet to shreds, I don’t mind cleaning up spilled milk (which *is* cried over) and thrown mashed potatoes; because it is where I feel I’m suppose to be. My life has meaning, I don’t quite know what that meaning is, and I’m learning to work with it and mold it and configure it. I do know that part of the reason I’m here is to raise these children to the best of my ability, so that is what I’m doing.
