My Children Are Trying to Melt My Heart …

I typically write about the humor of motherhood, but today my kids did something to inspire a more sentimental entry.  Chloe usually goes down for her first morning nap about the time Payton gets up. I like this because it gives Payton and I a little time to ourselves so he still gets one-on-one attention and plenty of mommy kisses and cuddles. The two of us were sitting at the table together, having our cereal, when Payton heard Chloe squeal in her room. He looked at me excitedly, hopped down from his chair and ran giggling into her room. I didn’t think much of it until he came running back to me, took my hand and led me into her room. He climbed up on her crib, his little feet squeezed between the slats so he could reach in, grab her hand and greet her lovingly like you would a great friend you haven’t seen for a while.  They gazed tenderly at one another, both with ear-to-ear grins. All I could do was step back for just a moment and try to memorize it. I want to remember detail for detail that lovely encounter between my children.  After I took a minute to admire my children’s interaction, I greeted Chloe for the second time that morning. I picked her up for a diaper change and Payton followed me to her changing table. He continued showing Chloe love by blowing her kisses and gently rubbing her belly. Their connection is something I am so grateful for. It’s something I’ve worked to establish.

The other night while I was putting Chloe to bed, I went to place my hands on her crib rail as I leaned in to say my blessing over her.  As I did this, I felt how sticky the rail was where Payton always holds on when he climbs up to see her. My first thought was, “uh … wonder what that is!” But then, after a moment, I realized that it was the evidence left behind by a brother adoring his sister, so eager to greet her in the morning that he didn’t care about his milk and cereal-sticky hands. I can’t say that I care about it either. There are more pressing issues in life than sticky hand prints on furniture. I can always clean those hand prints, but the imprints my children leave in my mind will be there forever- and it’s those prints I hope never get wiped away.

Motherhood has been one of the most thrilling rides I have ever had the privilege of being on. Never could I have imagined the menagerie of emotions that accompany it. What a gift, what an honor, what an experience.