I love my boys – I spend almost 24/7 with them, so it’s pretty obvious.
Some days however, I really could use a little “me” time. I’m not talking a night out with the girls here – I’m saying 1 minute to myself to recoup from the affliction of their love!
After several hours of schoolwork, the third-born came up for lunch. But first a good spin in the dining room was in order. All was wonderful in his dizzy world until his chubby, quickly growing hand wacked me up the backside of my head – “OUCH”!
Feeling horrible for abusing his mother in such a way he grabbed my head and hugged it with his metal laden head. His headgear proceeded to get lodged into the already sore section of my head. Realizing what he was doing, he quickly pulled back to remove his appliance from my cranium, at which point he became the proud owner of several strands of my hair.
As I began to rub the tiny bald spot, he makes a further attempt at comfort by rubbing my recently sun-“kissed” shoulders. (read: burnt to a crisp)
His younger brother seeing my pain, clasps my hand as a one would a dying loved one. And as he holds tighter a shout of – “OW” escapes my mouth. He looks down to realize he’s grasping the hand with a sprained finger and in shock proceeds to throw it into the table.
The third-born, in still another attempt to comfort me begins patting my head on top of the new, tiny bald spot that now exists where only minutes before it had also been stabbed and flogged.
The second-born has been sitting across the table this whole time, caught somewhere between laughter and an attempt at stopping the madness. I look over to see a face, one eye much larger than the other, watching this circus. He finally let’s out a shout “Stop touching mom!” *with a small giggle behind it.
All this in less than a minute….
The dining room quiets; one child goes downstairs forgoing lunch, while the other goes back under his blanket to finish his assignment. I feel like I should feel bad over this outcome – but I don’t…..
After my minute of “me” time, I was back to normal; short a few hairs and with an extra bruise. I realize this will be hysterical even before the hair starts to grow back on my head, giving us a memory to retell in the years to come.
As I sit here later, I am beside myself. I couldn’t be more thankful for these little men and the love they inflict on me everyday.