100 Days of Motherhood: 35
Mom, can I sit on your lap?” Paul asks, stroking my arm.
His face looks a little more big-boy than I remember because just yesterday, Daddy took a scissors and snipped until bright red curls covered the kitchen floor. It was necessary because the boy could barely see.
But I’m partial to bright red curls and baby-faced boys, and I can’t help feeling a little sorry about how grown-up he looks.
“You want to cuddle with me?” I say to the grey-blue eyes that look up at me.
Paul nods, making his face long in an attempt to look as pathetic as possible.
It works every time.
I nab him up into my lap and squeeze him tight. Paul’s dimple shows because I fell for his trick.
He drapes a lazy arm around my neck and says, “You smell adorbubble,” and gives me an impish smile that lifts up the freckles on his cheeks and makes me want to kiss them. I can’t resist that.
“Ack! Kisses!” he squeals, but he turns his cheek toward me instead of away.
We sit together rocking, we two. His hair tickles my nose and he strokes my arm and I think about how I have almost used up all the cuddle time I have been given because he is bigger today than he ever was before. Soon, he won’t fit on my lap. It is almost over, and I don’t want it to be over, not yet.
I wonder at how I’ve changed, how these five little people have worn away the parts that didn’t fit. When I first became a mother, the constant closeness with another human felt suffocating. Someone was on me all the time, and I was desperate to be able to carve out a little space in the world to be alone.
I’d listen to the clock in the hall and watch the birds fly outside the window while I waited, weighed down with nursing or a child who wouldn’t sleep and I’d think about how I couldn’t wait to put that baby down, shake out my arms, and be free.
Now here I am, holding on to this boy who loves to hold on to me, and I do not want to be free at all.
Time is funny that way. It wears you in. It makes things fit that once rubbed you raw.
Of all my children, it is Paul who has worn down my independence the most because it is Paul who lingers closest. It is Paul who is so unlike me in his need for nearness. It is Paul who makes me think I’ll miss these days when I can hardly get a moment to myself.
Soon, I will miss these days.
I stare at his face and try to remember the first time I saw him. It is a hazy dream because of the medication and the fierce lights of the operating room that made it hard to open my eyes, but if I try, I can be right there in an instant.
“This one has red hair!” the nurse exclaimed. Just seconds before, Paul’s twin had flown by my eyes. I had only a moment to stare in wonder at Micah before Paul came bellowing through, but that was long enough to know that Paul had red hair and Micah did not.
“Do any of your other kids have red hair?”
“No!” I said, and laughed out loud because I had always wanted a redhead, and it was just like God to give me that frivolous little gift just because, at the end, like a love note pressed into the hand when the good-byes are being said.
That red hair was just for me.
Paul knows it, and he holds it in his eyes like a secret. “We have red hair, right Mom?” he says, and grins with a grin that is two parts mischief and one part reckless, unbounded joy. He can’t hold in a giggle. It bubbles up from deep in his belly and ripples through the house.
I smile every time I hear it because that is Paul.
Paul who thanks God every night for the pretty horses and Jesus dying on the cross. Paul who once burst into tears in the middle of Rite Aid because Kya told him she wouldn’t marry him that day. Paul who can’t talk to me without touching me. Paul who wiggles and squirms next to me in church until I am exhausted and he is content because he knows we are close.
We are not very much alike that way, I’m afraid.
Sometimes, I step back when he reaches out for me. Sometimes, I tell him he must stop tugging on my pants. Sometimes, I tell him I want him to go outside.
Then he looks at me and says, “But Mom, if I go outside, you will be all-a-lonely,” and the mischief goes from his eyes and I know he’s aching for me because he is too little to know that we are different.
He can only see how we are the same. He wants us to be the same.
And I wonder at God who has the sense of humor to give me a boy with my red hair and a personality so unlike my own. It is the truer gift, I know, to give me a child who can’t let me indulge the selfishness and independence that is my tendency.
Because Paul has sharpened me, like iron to iron, and I have become a little less reclusive, a little less independent, a little less ready to shake out my arms and be free.
By the grace of God, we are becoming more the same.
In fact, I think I’d like to stay here for a while. Maybe there is time to linger a little longer with a little boy who has red hair just like me.
Emma says
This also made me cry and it got me to think! I am a mother of 6 kids, 0-9 years old, and they all speak different love languages and I need to meet them in different ways for their different needs. The cuddling happens so easily and natural only with the smallest ones, 2 year old and 2 months old, and this was a reminder that I do have other kids who love to just sit close to me when I read to them, get tickled or just have me watch TV with them with full attention… And another thing it reminded me about is that when I get upset about something they do, it many times shows that what they did is exactly what I would do and I need to show them more grace. It is not just the differences between us that can be annoying, also the fact that we are too alike! Example – 5 year old boy cannot find his shoe when we are going out…well I am far from always putting my things in their place either… And the same boy is always very distracted and want to have lots of projects going on at the same time. How annoying, but I am like that too! Another example – the 9 year old likes to show what she has been drawing or just speak about her thoughts and I often answer “ok, in a while!”, but I am just like her, I like that people confirm me by watching what I wrote or by them listening to me telling them how I solved a certain problem and so on.
So, how important to love each child in their own way for what they are, and that little space where we shake our arms free will come sooner that we think, and then we will miss all this as you say! Thanks! /Emma, a swede in Mexico
misty kelly says
This blog brought tears to my eyes also. I have a little girl that is four and she likes to hang on tight to me,she is close to me but sometimes i tell her to go play and want to be free for a minute but i know one day i aint going to have her to want me to hold and cuddle up with, so that time is so worth it to hold her and cuddle with her
Abbie (Five days...5 ways) says
All of mine so far are cuddlers…which I love, but Ezra (my oldest) is a stroker/tugger/draper…which I don’t love. Great reminder, this.
Kristen Glover says
That’s Paul, a stroker/tugger/draper!
Anne Lashuay says
I’m one who always loved hugging and holding my kids – and now my grandkids when I get to see them! The time goes by so quickly. And I have to say (and I’m totally unbiased!!!), that little redhead is adorable!
Heather Mason says
Love this. Nursing and loving 9 children has been very challenging for me. I don’t love to be touched! Don’t even like it many days, yet I too have several who need it. You put my feelings into words very well. And now I do enjoy it more than I used to, and know that these days won’t always be here.
I love that you get to have a son with red hair 😉 I am auburn, and always wished for a redhead. . . most of mine are blonds and I have a few brunettes, but no redhead!
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Lacey says
I loved this. Two of my three love to be ‘close’ all the time and I’m sorry to say I don’t always respond graciously. Thanks for the reminder that time is passing. I enjoy your writing!
robin says
I am blessed time and time again that you speak of the brokenness that has come about in loving your kiddos. I am an introvert that is pregnant with her 4th. Every single one of my kid’s wants ALOT of physical contact. I know that smothered feeling well… And I know that slow breaking of just giving in to loving it. But, even as I am sitting here my five year old has her legs thrown across my knees and is constantly squirming while my two year old is leaning in to me on the other side. And I realize that in order to complete the journey I need to lay down my desires and meet their needs again. Thanks for the reminder
Kristen Glover says
I think, sometimes, when I hesitate to be honest about the fact that I don’t naturally love to cuddle my children, that perhaps there are other mothers out there who feel the same way and who need to know it’s okay to be an introvert, a personal-space queen. It’s okay if physical touch is NOT your favorite thing because God can make it better.
Marcia Millard says
You get me every time! I tear up with the realness you share and the words you choose to get me there. I learn something about myself, about God and about my own (grown) children every time. Thank you. 🙂
Kristen Glover says
Thank you, Marcia. I praise God for the chance to share.
Krystle says
I was almost in tears over this one! What a great reminder to cherish these young, fleeting years. I tried to remind myself of that as I was up most of the night last night with my teething, congested “not the same as me” middle child. God gave me a redhead too in our third girl, I think partly as consolation that she’s not a boy. 🙂 I love it when God shows His love in the “little things” that would only be significant to us personally! I’m just so thankful every time you write, I can’t say it enough!
Kristen Glover says
They are fleeting years, aren’t they! Sigh. I know I’m a crazy mother, but I can’t seem to hold on long enough.
gail says
Oh, the cuddles are so delightful.
My daughter has beautiful red hair but has dyed it since she is a teen. I know it is because she was never “just one of the kids” but stood out, always being touched by strangers. It breaks my heart that the color is wasted.
Kristen Glover says
I give Paul lots of affirmation about his red hair because I know men often end up hating their red hair too. I want him to love it–always!
Rebekah Shaver says
I cried as I read this. I was cuddling my 2 youngest this morning thinking along the same lines. ~ Except for the red hair. God didn’t answer yes to that prayer of mine. 🙂 ~ I too so often used to feel suffocated, although those were the days after my 3rd baby instead of my first. Now 8, 6, 4, and 3 I know my children are FLYING through these years. Each time they ask to snuggle now days I find it VERY hard to refuse. My oldest asked me to rock him a few months ago. I wept because he barely fit on my lap. God is good to give us these special moments, and to change us enough to LOVE them. 🙂 Thank you again for your gift of words.