Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Tonight during "snuggle time" (our pre-bedtime ritual), Mercie & Eric asked me to tell the stories of how they came to be in our family. So I did. As usual, I got a little teary. Okay, I bawled so hard one of my contacts flipped out of my eye and off the bed. All by itself.
The miracles that brought each of my babies home bring out the most tender feelings.
The thing is, my daughters, for some bizarre reason known only to them, find nothing else quite so funny as mom getting emotional. If they hear even the teensiest hint of a quaver in my voice, the glint of a tear in my eye, or even a few rapid breaths as I try NOT to cry; they start laughing hysterically and calling each other to come see, and let me tell you--THAT kills those tender feelings dead, yessiree bob.
Note: I feel compelled to state, for the record, that I am a somewhat remarkably UN-emotional woman, who does not tend to get choked up or teary, especially compared to many women I know. Nothing against them, and sometimes I wish I were more easily moved, but I am what I am, and that makes my daughters' response all the more baffling.
So, here we are, telling stories and I'm crying my eyes out (literally) and I'm bracing myself for the loud disdain and uncontrollable laughter, and instead I get--
A little pre-manly arm wrapped around my waist, and a little recently buzzed head tucked onto my shoulder, while a little boy hand pats me. "It's okay, mom, I don't care if you cry."
I gulp back sobs (in a very elegant and graceful way, of course). "I'm sorry, guys. These are happy tears. It just makes me so happy to remember how happy I was when you came to our family."
"Don't worry about it, mom. You can cry here with me." Pat, pat. Sob, sob.
People, I love my girls. Passionately, thoroughly, eternally. I love the frilly, froufy parts of having girls, I love their high spirits and strong characters, their scary smarts and their fun personalities.
And oh my merciful heavens--and yes, it was through that Merciful Heavenly intervention--I love, love, love my boy. Cannot even put it into words how much I love this precious boy.
Someday he is going to make a very special woman very, very happy and very, very lucky. I know this, because I'm the Other Woman in his life, and I can attest that the qualities she'll fall in love with run deep in the marrow of his soul, manifesting even from the time he was a tiny boy.
It's a very good thing to have a boy.