This week alone I think I’ve seen no less than four article titles about knowing how your baby / child loves you. I don’t know about anyone else but I don’t need someone else to tell me how to tell if my baby / child loves me. They each show me every day how much they love me in the little things they do.
Bug – for as much as he tells me he wants a new mommy – I know he loves me when he asks me to cuddle with him and watch a favorite TV show, or to take the time to play a game or just sit and color with him, or when he asks to help me cook, or even when he says “Thank You” – yes, there are kids that still say “Please” and “Thank You” – for making a meal for him. Or the times that he will just come up to me and hug me.
Buddha is learning to give kisses. Oh – baby kisses! Those opened mouth, drool laden, wet kisses that can land any where on your face – your check, your nose, your eyes, your mouth. Then there are times when she’s tired that she snuggles into my neck and rubs my arms or plays with my hair. Oh, and let’s not forget the early morning cuddle fest – where she’ll go from Hubby to me, back to Hubby, and then back to me, laying on our chests, like she’s comparing who’s more comfortable.
So even though they don’t say, “I love you, Mom”, I know my babies love me.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A little over a week ago I had a conversation with a man. As I was listening to what he was saying, I wondered when, how and why he had grown up and where did my bratty baby brother go. Where did the last 31 years go? Sitting across from me was not the little boy that would torment me, so naturally I would have to torment back. But rather there was a grown man having a very grown up conversation with me. We discussed – rather he told me – what he wanted in the worst case scenarios. He told me how he wanted things handled. He very candidly told me that he was prepared to at the very least get hurt. He’s accepting the reality of his situation. We hugged and cried. I tried to get him to promise me to be careful. His response, “I have to be. There’s 19 other men that I have to keep safe.” It was one of the best, and worst, conversations I have ever had with my brother. I couldn't help but think that it's not right to be having this conversation with him. I don't want to be having this conversation with my brother. I want to have a conversation about falling in love, getting married, raising kids, the price of gas - anything but this. I know he's not the first military personnel to go war, and I know he probably won't be the last, but its' very different when it's one of your own. Please God, keep him safe!