Ben and I travel without our kids.
Some people seem to be so good at taking their kids along (my theory is they just haven’t tried it without!)
And we do take them too sometimes. But not if we want a break.
I remember one blogger clarifying the difference :a "trip" is with kids,
a "vacation" is without.
Another tv mom informed her husband as they set out on a family vacation,"Honey, for me, this is a business trip!”
This week we’re traveling with out them.
It’s bitter sweet.
Ben (who has more practice walking out the door every day to go off to work and "leave” his little hoodlems) gives a hug and a "See ya bud”
While I, on the other hand get all emotional as I imagine the last momemts my child will ever remmebr of me if something were to happened to us.
I told Ben that as we dropped off McKye, and his comforting statement was “He's three, there’s no way he’ll remember.”
Which, of course, filled me with utter horror. My poor orphaned child unable to muster a single memory of his own mother (ladies this a good reason to hand the camera off every once in a while and actually be in some family snap shoots!)
And because apparently trying to draw up our will has made me ubber sensitive to our fragile existence(down right paranoid in fact), here’s some memories for you boys, just incase. (Ironically, I wrote this the first night in the hotel but because of basically non-existent wi-fi I didn't post it, so if something had happened they wouldn't have had this anyway!)
I always wanted to make sure I had your full attention.
I wanted it to be not just three little words but a routine, predictable, solid—a symbol in itself of what I was about to say.
I’d grab your little face, my palms pressed on your cheeks, my fingers tempted to trace the ears I’m sure you'll grow into. The ears that get stuck in the insufficient neck-holes of the little t-shirts you pick out each morning, to wear with your insisted upon jeans (all of which have holes but you refuse to wear anything but!)
Our eyes mirror one another, the very same brown, mutually reflected, pigment mixed by the same dominate genes, that make me wonder what other ways we’re a like.
I come close.
Often nose-touching close.
I don’t want any distrations.
I want you to hear me.
“Guess what?” I initiate.
“Guess what?” You parrot, those brown eyes coming alive with the recognition to what we have begun.
“Guess what?” I continue
“Guess what?” you play along, the sparkle in your eyes growing.
“Guess what?” I try a few different voices, intonations, keeping it interesting.
“Guess what?” You copy perfectly. SO good at this game of ours.
“Guess what?” I whisper, letting the hush settle between us (though theres not much room)
“Guess what?” your little knowing voice barely audible.
Here comes the best part.
“I love you.”
Declared.
“I love you.”
Accepted.
Understood I hope.
If not, at least mutually felt.
Your well trained lips pucker on cue and reach for mine, my heart swelling beyond imagination every single time.
“I LOVE YOU!!!!!!” our reverence gives way once more to silliness to finish off.
“I LLLOVVVEEEE YOOOOOOUUUUUU!” you always “win”
Once more smooch this time with a exaggerated
“ummmmm-wwwaaaahhhh” sound effect.
Everyday.
At least once.
Our little ritual.
My message I hope is clear.
I love you. I always will. NO matter what.
My love is stable (despite mommy’s volatile moods)
My love is sure (even when life and super clamour)
If there is nothing you can depend on in this whole entire world,
I want you to know you can lean on the love of your mother,
because it will never change.
It will always be.
No matter what you do, or what path you take, how far you try to distance yourself, my love will always be cheek-grabbing nose-touching, brown eyes melting into each other close.
And guess what?
I love you.
1 comments:
Very sweet!
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