I write a lot about the crazy and exhausting parts of parenthood. Stories about poop in the bathtub, bidding adieu to the binky, and the chaos that can ensue in my household make for good content. They’re hilarious and relatable. And I love telling those stories.
This one, while hopefully still relatable, is more endearing, bringing to light why we so willingly deal with the craziness of parenting.
My toddler is the typical two-year old. Learning his independence and pushing the limits. One of his favorite new ways to show his defiance to any direction he does not agree with is to honk at you with a grouchy face.
It’s not so much of a duck “honk” as it is like a short buzzer sound. My husband likened it to the game Operation, and what would happen when those little tweezers would skim the edge of the metal of whatever hole you were digging in.
Whatever you call it, it irritates the hell out of me. And he knows it.
But then there are times like this morning that I wish I could bottle up forever.
My son has gotten into the habit of making his way to our bed around 5:00 in the morning nearly every day. Pretty sure it’s a neighbor’s loud car that wakes him up and he sets out in seek of some comfort.
After our years’ long journey of my son being a terrible sleeper and shuffling back and forth to his room several times a night, I happily welcome this stage if it means getting a good night’s sleep.
I’m a chronic tosser and turner when I sleep, even more so lately for reasons that will be forthcoming. But last night, I slept fairly solid – not quite like a rock, but a pumice stone maybe?
I was awakened around 5:30 am to the sound of my son calling for “Mommy.” He climbed up the bench at the foot of our bed, then crawled across the mattress to my pillow. There, we happily (and cozily) slept another hour.
We were all waking up this morning, and my son was rolling around. I was talking to him, but he was staying silent – letting the morning sink in a bit. All of a sudden, he reached out for my face and pulled my head in tight to his body for a full-on baby bear hug. Still not saying a word. My face was pressed against his warm little belly and it was the most relaxing moment I’ve had in a while. Then he rested his little head on the top of mine and I thought my heart would explode. I nestled in to him further and wrapped my arms around his tiny frame. This was pure bliss.
It reminded me that these tiny people, while still developing their empathy and they don’t always express their love vocally, do things like this that make you feel it.
My son will say “I love you” if you say it to him first. So, he probably doesn’t truly understand the meaning of it. But it’s clear that he feels it.
This lasted probably less than a minute – an eternity in active toddler time – but I’ve thought about it all day, and is something I hope to hold onto for the rest of my life.
In case you ever find yourself questioning your parenting and wondering what the hell you’re doing, remember that your littles love you for all that you are and they feel and understand the love you have for them.