Heroes
Daddy is a hero around here. We cry when he walks out the door (and by “we” I mean the kids…although sometimes I feel like weeping after he is gone and I am left alone with 2 crying children). When he walks into the room, our faces light up with glee and we run to his feet and beg him to pick us up, twirl us around and throw us in the air (okay, here I am definitely just talking about the kids). Indeed, we make no bones about the extent to which we adore Daddy.
I try not to be frustrated when after I have had to discipline my daughter and am cuddling her in my lap, she sniffles, “I want to go to Daddy.” And I have mentioned before that I rarely get the same welcome he does when I walk into a room.
Deep down I know my children love me. Since the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”…one would likely infer that the converse must also hold some truth. The fact is, lately my kids are stuck with me all day, every day(I like to think that’s actually a good thing!), and although we are blessed to have wonderful days together, rich with new experiences, I am often the one nagging, correcting, and saying “no,” as we negotiate the obstacles of our day. It is me that puts the kibosh on activities involving launched scrambled eggs, crayons shoved in various bodily orifices, and tea parties that use non-potable water sources (if you know what I mean). And while I do my best to mother with grace and dignity, I am not immune to days that send me into solitary confinement – hiding out in the bathroom, begging God to restore my sanity. Incidentally, it’s usually right about this time that Daddy walks through the door, ready and willing to spend a few hours hugging, playing and chasing.
Indeed, Daddy is the hero.
But it is MY name that my daughter screams in the middle of the night when she has had a bad dream (and let me tell you, it nearly sends me into cardiac arrest to hear it screamed in such blood curdling fashion). It is my name that comes out first when she falls down and scrapes her knee (which happens once a day lately), and my name she calls out when her brother has swiped her doll and is threatening to water-baptize it in the toilet. Similarly, never a sweeter sound was heard than that of my name coming out of my one year olds’ mouth…one of his first attempted words.
And then last night, the tables finally turned in my favour. I was on my way to a church function after supper, hugging my kids goodnight, cleaning up the remnants of the meal and sharing a few pieces of instruction with my husband as I gathered my belongings and made my way out the front door. As I felt the door click shut behind me, I heard it.
“Maaaammmaaa!!!”
My son, dissolved into a tearful fit…over MY exit! I tell you, I’ve never felt so loved! And while I didn’t envy my husband’s task of trying to console and distract him, it felt really good to know that once in a while, this old girl is able to elicit the emotional response usually reserved for Daddy. I stood on the steps for a brief moment, drinking in the sound of unashamed love and loyalty.
It’s one of those moments I will need to tuck away in my long-term memory; sustenance for the days when I feel abused, overworked and taken for granted. While they may not always realize it, I’m pretty indispensible in my kids’ world. It goes to show that when the real rubber meets the road around here…I am still at the top of the food chain.
Speaking of which, someone is calling my name. It would be naive to presume that the pleasure of my company is all that's sought...I’m guessing one of the “lower links” needs something to eat. But hey, to a one year old that's not yet tall enough to reach the milk shelf in the fridge, I guess you could say my height advantage may be enough to catapult me to hero status...
I'll take it any way I can get it.
I try not to be frustrated when after I have had to discipline my daughter and am cuddling her in my lap, she sniffles, “I want to go to Daddy.” And I have mentioned before that I rarely get the same welcome he does when I walk into a room.
Deep down I know my children love me. Since the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”…one would likely infer that the converse must also hold some truth. The fact is, lately my kids are stuck with me all day, every day(I like to think that’s actually a good thing!), and although we are blessed to have wonderful days together, rich with new experiences, I am often the one nagging, correcting, and saying “no,” as we negotiate the obstacles of our day. It is me that puts the kibosh on activities involving launched scrambled eggs, crayons shoved in various bodily orifices, and tea parties that use non-potable water sources (if you know what I mean). And while I do my best to mother with grace and dignity, I am not immune to days that send me into solitary confinement – hiding out in the bathroom, begging God to restore my sanity. Incidentally, it’s usually right about this time that Daddy walks through the door, ready and willing to spend a few hours hugging, playing and chasing.
Indeed, Daddy is the hero.
But it is MY name that my daughter screams in the middle of the night when she has had a bad dream (and let me tell you, it nearly sends me into cardiac arrest to hear it screamed in such blood curdling fashion). It is my name that comes out first when she falls down and scrapes her knee (which happens once a day lately), and my name she calls out when her brother has swiped her doll and is threatening to water-baptize it in the toilet. Similarly, never a sweeter sound was heard than that of my name coming out of my one year olds’ mouth…one of his first attempted words.
And then last night, the tables finally turned in my favour. I was on my way to a church function after supper, hugging my kids goodnight, cleaning up the remnants of the meal and sharing a few pieces of instruction with my husband as I gathered my belongings and made my way out the front door. As I felt the door click shut behind me, I heard it.
“Maaaammmaaa!!!”
My son, dissolved into a tearful fit…over MY exit! I tell you, I’ve never felt so loved! And while I didn’t envy my husband’s task of trying to console and distract him, it felt really good to know that once in a while, this old girl is able to elicit the emotional response usually reserved for Daddy. I stood on the steps for a brief moment, drinking in the sound of unashamed love and loyalty.
It’s one of those moments I will need to tuck away in my long-term memory; sustenance for the days when I feel abused, overworked and taken for granted. While they may not always realize it, I’m pretty indispensible in my kids’ world. It goes to show that when the real rubber meets the road around here…I am still at the top of the food chain.
Speaking of which, someone is calling my name. It would be naive to presume that the pleasure of my company is all that's sought...I’m guessing one of the “lower links” needs something to eat. But hey, to a one year old that's not yet tall enough to reach the milk shelf in the fridge, I guess you could say my height advantage may be enough to catapult me to hero status...
I'll take it any way I can get it.
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