I am convinced that I have a magnetic force field around me.  This force field can only be felt by my children.  Wherever I go, whatever I do, there they are, right beside me; observing, questioning, chatting, smiling.  This has become especially obvious in our new home, as the Master bedroom is on the main floor, just off our primary kitchen/family room living space.  It seems that I cannot get dressed by myself, pack my gym bag, fold some laundry, or even use the bathroom without one or two little faces following closely behind me.

My three-year-old daughter has also taken to wandering into our bed halfway through the night, and snuggling up to me so closely that I have to pull back the covers or be cooked from the heat her little body gives off.  “Can we snuggle, Mommy?” she’ll whisper to me in her sleep-drunk state.  “We are snuggling,” I’ll reply, as she’s pressed up against me head-to-toe.  “No, put your arms around me,” she says.  And so I cocoon all 35lbs of her, and back to sleep we drift.

I won’t lie to you: there are times that have children constantly underfoot can get a bit overwhelming.  Times when I just want five minutes to not have to answer a “why” question or play eye-spy.  Times when I would give anything to have a sleep-in or a quiet meal or a movie uninterrupted.  But those times are far fewer than the times that I marvel at my children’s dependence on me.

I marvel at their trust, their complete faith, their staggering belief in me.

They are seven and almost-four now.  My baby girl starts full-day Kindergarten in the Fall.  This chapter of work-part-time-while-the-kids-are-little is nearly over.  My daytime focus can soon shift from the kids to the clinic.  When I took my foot off the gas of my career seven years ago, I saw this next phase in the far-off distance.  And now it’s in my direct sights.

I will take the magnetic force field, while it’s still here.  Its power is likely to fade in the very near future, and when it’s gone I know that I will miss it.