I snuggle Fynn in the moments before he goes to sleep. I stroke his hair. Run my hand down his cheek, my fingers trace the line in between his eyes that runs down his nose in an effort to help him close his sleepy blue eyes. He holds my hand for a few moments, then lets go, rolls over. He's ready for sleep, ready for his space, ready to say goodnight. He's had his fill of snuggles. I leave him to his slumber, and sulk out of the bedroom.
I always need more.
Tonight is my high school reunion. I'm not going. I thought about it, but the timing is not good - the night before Thanksgiving when we're hosting, and now we have sick kids, and no babysitter. However, if I could take my {healthy} kids with me, I would have gone in a heartbeat.
Is that wrong?
People always want to show off their best sides at reunions. They are my best side. My best work. My everything. With them in tow I would had a built in shield from harsh conversations or off handed comments that might have occurred {though only in my head... } I have some wonderful memories from those years, and think fondly of the few good friends I had, but there are also memories that got shoved away due to painful content. For another day, another year.
There are times when I think I need the kids more than they will know. They are my protectors, my shield. When I'm out by myself, I'm not as vibrant and on the ball as when I'm out with them. With them, I want to be the mom they know, always. Relatively uninhibited, outgoing, fun. Not the shy, introvert that I've known and had a love hate relationship for 28 years.
They bring out the best in me.
They push me.
Egg me on to be better.
And yet they are safe.
In their absence during my alone time I wear a necklace bearing their names in hope that it reminds me of who I can be, who I've become. They're with me always, in my heart and on my mind. I know I'm needy when it comes to my children, they've given me so much already. But it can't be helped. It's not that I wasn't hugged enough as a child, or have a husband who doesn't give me hugs. Neither one of those are even close to the truth.
When my children were born, I thought many insecurities would simply disappear. And some did. But some are here to stay. Thankfully it's family and faith that gets us through them, makes us work at them, makes us stronger.
Sometimes in the wee hours of the morning I sneak in to the comfort of Fynn's bed and steal a few midnight snuggles, then drift off to sleep smelling his Burt's Bees washed hair. I breathe him in and it brings me back to earth, back from late night panic attacks and dreary thoughts. He and Paige both bring me peace.
If there's a twenty year reunion, I will probably go. Without the kids. By that time I hope to have grown into myself a little more, with the help of two little ones. The family my husband and I created. The best parts of us.