Serious stuff

Just read a letter sim to this and thought I should write down my thoughts for you two precious kiddos:

The other day Haley who is 6 just needed some cuddles. 

It's rare we get to cuddle or that she asks but she climbed into my arms. Her face has some new freckles. She let me hold her and rock her and count her freckles. 

For what seemed like a blissful eternity, I rocked my little girl back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I stroked her thick beautiful hair and held her close.

What she doesn't know is that I'd hold her every day just like this. She could ask me anytime, anywhere, and I would drop whatever I was doing to take her up into my arms and feel her warm little heart beating next to mine or to see those freckles closer. Or to rub her soft cheek upon mine. 

What she doesn't know is that I live for her laugh, her smile. I live for both of my kids laughs and smiles and cuddles. The twinkle of happiness in their voice in my ears is enough to bring blue skies to a cloudy day. When the corners of their mouths turn up with joy, my heart skitters into a thousand butterflies fluttering though a green meadow. I want to take away anything that makes them sad or sick. I never want either of them to know pain.

What they don't know is that after an atrocious day full of tantrums and harsh words, when I count down the minutes until bedtime, I miss them when they are asleep. (I'm lying next to jake now writing this) I come in every night to reposition one of you. To hear one of you snore and to cuddle. For children so full of energy and life and passion during the day, they each are surprisingly relaxed and at peace when they dream. And though I may not be fully prepared for what the next day will bring, I am secretly excited for morning so we can meet again.

What they don't know is that I hate myself for the ways I fail for them. The impatient nagging about flushing or cleaning, the loud snap of my voice, the wrong choice of not cleaning my kitchen when I decide it's best to be reading them a book. I pray they will not lack anything because of my faults and insecurities. And I hope one day they will see all the ways I worked on myself just to be better for them.

What they don't know, what she couldn't possibly know, is how deep my love runs for my children. It courses through my veins. There is nothing I would not do, nothing I would not give up, for them. I know now, in a way I could not have known before I knew Haley, that love like this cannot dry up like a dusty river bed. It can only grow stronger, a raging river, with an endless source. It would be impossible to not love them.

What they don't know is that as time goes by, they will grow up. Crayons and blocks will be traded for cars and make up. I will spend the years grasping for them as one of them runs ahead, finding the delicate balance between holding on without holding them back. I know they will grow up. And each will be beautiful and confident and wonderful. And I will miss their littleness and naps :)

One day I will look back and wonder why I thought it was so hard, oh so long ago, to raise this child. And I will vow to myself that if I had the chance, I would do it all over again. Every minute.

So today, I hold this little babe, rocking her back and forth, back and forth. I do not take for granted this moment of prolonged comfort: I snuggle them into my neck, breathe in their scent, and lock the memory of each of them deep in my heart.

Because what my kids don't know is that, no matter how many years go by, no matter how old they grow, they will always be my precious little boy.