But I don't want my gentle (child-free) readers to get the wrong idea. Parenting little people is not all pain and suffering--ok, it is mostly pain and suffering. But there is another facet that I often completely ignore - transcendent joy. Truly.
There is nothing like parenting and the joy it brings. Just as I could never adequately describe the hell, I also can never do justice to the ecstasy.
But gosh darn it if I don't try, just a little.
To a little person, you are the world.
You are the sun, moon and stars.
You are all that and a bag of chips. A rock star. THE rock star. The one and only greatest rock star in the history of the world.
When you are there, smiling at them, you give off more light than the sun.
When you leave, they lose their mooring for a while.
And when you return, they are over-the-moon delighted.
It brings me so much joy to know that all Judah needs in order to be okay is my hugs and kisses. When he gets rejected by his friends. When he gets scrapes and bruises. When he comes down with fevers and rashes. When he loses his favorite objects. When he is sad and offers no explanation. All he needs is "some huggle snuggle time with Mommy."
And I wasn't even the one who figured that out. Judah taught me that.
I would offer candy, new toys, fun diversions, like a magician frantically pulling things out of his hat, but Judah would reject them all for just a few minutes of hugging on the couch.
Not a day goes by without my kids telling me they love me. Or picking a flower for me (sorry neighbors!). Or drawing/writing me love notes. (Even Noah scribbles on paper and says - This say, I yayu Mommy!)
|Two of the gazillion love notes Judah churns out like a factory.|
How many people (without kids) can say they get to drown in such bottomless oceans of love? When was the last time you got a handwritten love note, just because?
And when, if ever, did you have the power to make someone feel fully loved, unconditionally secure, and wholly sated with your mere attentive presence?
I'm sure that will slowly change as children age, but such is the gift of parenting the wee ones.