Today, Chipmunk and I were snuggled on the couch together, his stubby little legs draped over mine, and he said, “Oh Mom, you are soooo soft!”
It was sweet. He just laid there, feeling comfy and happy and everything was absolutely wonderful in his world.
I love being his softest place.
When I tuck Mister in at naptimes or bedtimes, we have some strict rituals we adhere to. I rock him, and sing, while he sucks his thumb and snuggles his special blanket. Sometimes he “la-la’s” along, but many times, he cups his hand over my throat, right over the spot where he can feel the hum of my voice. It is the tenderest, most precious thing. It’s like he wants to do more than hear this happy moment, he wants to feel it, too.
I love being the singer of his lullabies.
And the Duke, who lives in his own dreamworld, but pops into mine when those extra cozy moments come a-calling. He is the one who darts under my super soft blanket in the winter, who exclaims over my hot cocoa, and asks for back scratches in the morning. He can get comfortable like nobody’s business.
I love being his cozy maker.
Sometimes, when I go to tuck Czarina in, she asks for an extra long hug. She just lies in bed, while I hug her, and she sighs happily at the contact. When I eventually do break off and wish her a goodnight, she rolls over onto her pillow like her day is now complete, as if now everything has settled into its rightful place.
I love being the final piece of her day.
And of course there is HeroBoy, who has a big man’s heart in a growing boy’s frame. He is so busy being himself that the best thing I am for him is just a tether. He is satisfied to simply wander back in from a long day of growing up, to occasionally submit to the hugs and hair ruffling and ninja chops of his mom.
I love being his home base.
I love being all these things. I know that who I am to my children will change many times over the years… so I cherish each role I have, for the time I have it. They will need different things from me tomorrow, and a year from now, and ten years from now, and twenty.
And that’s okay. That’s how it’s supposed to be.
I will change with them, grow with them, answering the role of mother in unique and varied (and unexpected!) ways as they have need of me. It is unknown territory that we go into as mothers, but every moment is a treasure. I will not waste a one.
So today, I count these blessings. I love these blessings.
I write them here, so I never forget who I was to them today.