A few days ago I posted a snarky status on my facebook page. I was EGGS HAUSTED. My body was screaming at me to lay down and rest. But my son was screaming at me to get up and play with him.
Those moments are hard. Peter wants to interact and engage with me all the time. Yes, he will sit and watch cartoons for a stint in the morning, but he has a secret radar that tells him when his parents are getting sleepy and we can't even close our eyelids for two seconds before he is yelling, "Don't go to sleep!" I swear he even sends off a strong signal when he's at preschool and I'm home trying to rest. Sitting still and relaxing has never been my forte...but still...
The truth of the matter is that I am absolutely, positively, entirely and completely in love with my children. So much so that it completely overwhelms me at times. It truly takes my breath away and I just stare at them with a bursting heart. It is the opposite of the deep and brutal pain I felt when Lucy died. It is pure bliss. The only problem is that these blissful moments have a hidden monster lurking right next to them. It's the "If you love your kids in this moment so much and they are so adorable you want to eat them and hug them and bask in their incredible beauty than think of how much you are missing with your firstborn beautiful blonde daughter not being here too" monster.
But I still let myself fully into those moments and tell the monster to just take a backseat for one second! I yell at him at the top of my thought lungs, "I can still love her and treasure her and feel her and be at peace with all I've learned from her and love the children in front of me even though she isn't here. So leave me alone! PLEASE!"
It works. But it leaves me drained.
But my point really is that I love my children. And the point of this post is the joy that my living children are bringing to me. And it makes me cry that I even have to say that. But proud that I can say that, too. OH, DAMN you grief!
Back to the point. Just bear with me. I was talking about moments of pure joy with my edible children.
Those moments usually end with me squeezing Peter so hard my thoughts turn to "Of Mice and Men." Or I cover Zoë with kisses for so long that eventually she starts crying. How else am I supposed to get it out? I LOVE THEM!
And this is why: