The minute my kids wake up, they look for me. If I’m not in my bed, they comb the tiny house looking for me. When they find me, we hug and we visit for a minute. Throughout the day, they continue to find me. If I’m doing my hair and make-up in my bathroom, they are jumping on my bed. If I’m cooking in the kitchen, they’re standing next to me on chairs. In the middle of the night, they find me.
Even now, as I type, my son plunked himself down on my elbow making typing a fun sort of challenge.
I want to ask them “why?”
“What’s so great about just being in mom’s space? Don’t you have games and crayons and puzzles in your room? There’s nothing fun about my space!”
But I don’t need to ask them because I remember. I remember the feeling of just wanting to be NEAR my mother, no matter what she was doing. I remember sitting at her feet while she crocheted. I remember following her around simply because I just wanted to be with her, no other reason.
And you know what that makes me now? The life of the party.
I don’t mind it. I’ve never been the life of the party before.
I’ll still occasionally lock my door when I need a brief minute to just unwind (or -let’s face it -get DRESSED), but for the most part it makes me happy.
I mean really… in ten years will I get a picture like that? Forget it. But don’t think I won’t be finding THEM every morning and sort of following them around the house… just to be near them.
I need to keep this relationship strong, people. Someday they’ll be gone, and I’ll need them to trust me enough to leave their toddlers with me.
Grandmas love nothing more than to be the life of the party.
First you get me addicted to your daily updates, then you get busy and find perspective, and I am going through withdrawals. I loved your wisdom and wit on children spending time with you. Having a daughter last, I see that she longs to be around me a little longer than the boys did. Good thing I had her last.