I spent mother’s day at Bianca’s house with each of my kids securely fastened to various parts of my body. Pat and I are both somewhat of introverts so I suppose it’s shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that our kids tend to get a little clingy in public.
I guess I was kind of hoping that by the age of 4 and a half Maile would have kind of “outgrown” that stage…especially with her own family. It’s not like these are strangers they are ducking away from, it’s the same aunts and uncles they’ve been seeing at least twice a month over the course of their entire lives. Sometimes more. Upon arriving I usually find a place to sit so that each child can get reacquainted with their surroundings and hopefully come out of their shell.
My sisters little girl, Blondie, does not have a shy bone in her body. Quite the opposite, she’s very forward and immediately comes over for hugs and to help take shoes off. How did I not get even ONE of those? Not one outgoing kid in the bunch…so far.
I feel flattered that they love me so much, but as the family photographer they make moving around a little difficult. And they make me hot. And they make it hard to have a conversation. And just forget about enjoying a meal.
Sidenote: My brother-in-law, Handyman, has really given me a hard time for that last one about enjoying my meals. When Maile was born he and my sister would ask about the transition and if having a baby was hard. One of my top complaints was that I was no longer able to sit down to a meal and start and finish without any interruptions.
Handyman thinks this is hilarious. Of all the things to complain about I was complaining that I didn’t have to time to relish the flavor of my meal. Handyman eats for replenishment only, he doesn’t really get the whole idea of “enjoying a meal” so he thinks I’m ridiculous. I bet a lot of moms have the same complaint.
ANYWHO. Where was I? Ah yes. The children. My little sister, Baby, made the observation that I am like their living room. When you take them outside of their comfort zone they flock to the living room. And I’m cornered. One in my lap, one at my back, and one hugging on an arm. Not a lot of moving. Doesn’t everyone feel secure in their living room? A nice analogy. They treat me like a sofa…maybe I’ll start bringing one along.
and ps, I know what you’re thinking. Where is Pat in all this? Don’t the children love Pat. And the answer to that is no. They don’t. Unless he has candy. Or a bottle. Pat is my wingman. He sits back until I give him the “look” and then he swoops in and rescues me from a sure death of toddler suffocation.
In summary:
-my kids adore me.
-I enjoy meals.
-I’d like at least one of my children to grow some balls.
-Pat needs some love’n.
The End.
Reasons I Love My Husband
1.)He brings me warm bottles to give to the baby in the middle of the night when I am cussing him out in my head.
2.)He ignores my juvenile behavior and patiently waits for me to get over myself and discuss our finances like an adult.
3.)He sits back until I give him the “look” and then he swoops in and rescues me from a sure death of toddler suffocation.