I spend 24 hours accompanied by one of my children or the other. I’m never alone, not even in the bathroom. I lock the door, and one or two little hands always crawl under the door. Luckily, these are chubby, pretty hands, and not ones like in “Signs,” do you know that movie in which Mel Gibson sees an alien hand under the door? Yes, pretty disturbing.
Going back to the locked bathroom door, El Cangri found a way to unlock it without a key! He usually grabs a coin from my purse, but he’s used credit cards, toys, car keys… whatever is flat enough to open the door. It must be the Puerto Rican genes in him!
Usually during the day, I am very patient with this constant persecution even though I feel like a prisoner under constant vigilance and supervision. When they can, they touch me or my clothes too. Gorgeous Boy also touched my hair when he was a baby, and still, when I’m too close to him he brushes his fingers against my hair, with a dreamy, satisfied smile on his face.
Right before the Christmas break, Swan Princess called me every day from school because she missed me. And at night!!!!! You who know me, know I hardly ever sleep (hence the craziness), but when I reach a certain point of exhaustion, and I can’t take it anymore, I’ll push the nightly visitors from my bed, and MAKE them sleep on their beds. They always react the same way: they look at me as if a monster took the place of their beloved mother, they cry, and gnash their teeth. One of them even pulls his own hair. I’m not exaggerating. By this point, my beloved husband tells me, “Oh well! Let them stay! They’re still babies and they only want to be with us. What is wrong with that?” So then, I’m the bad guy, and the kids and my husband look at me pleadingly, begging me to let them stay close to me.
I always, always relent.
I’m not saying this to show I’m a loving, perfect mother, which I’m not, by any means. It’s just that often I think I’m too demanding on the kids, especially the older ones, and I say yes on the only thing that doesn’t cost me a thing, besides sleep. Also, I feel so safe, so at peace, when I hear their soft, deep breathing, and see their smiling faces just hinting at the sweet dreams they’re having, that I can’t deny myself this treat.
I know this phase will pass; they won’t still come to me at night when they’re in college (I hope), and in the worst case the boys at least will go on their missions, and by then, they will HAVE to sleep in their own beds.
I’m so torn between setting limits and being a loving parent for them, and for the love of me I can’t hear them crying, especially at night. It does something to my brain and my heart.
So I guess I’ll just enjoy this time in their lives when I’m their favorite person, and treasure this years forever. They’re growing so fast… I look at their sleeping faces, and I still see them as babies, and I pray that they may always feel safe and loved, and that their dreams may always be sweet and beautiful.
The funny thing is that when I’m by myself (once in a blue moon), I miss them! So yes, I’m officially insane!