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.