Mom time

My kids take turns sleeping with me when hubby is gone.

We have late night meaningful conversations that include topics about being a sniper for the FBI, to how a video game was defeated using a laser gun, to will I or will I not let my daughter ride the public bus with her friends to a mall during a birthday party.  The answer is no in case you were wondering. 

I cherish these times with them.  Even if I do have to doll out a back rub, it's so worth the quiet whispers of things that weigh on their hearts or giggles as we think about something funny from the day before or even tears over hurt feelings. 

They are still small-ish and although I have big dreams for them, I dread them growing up and leaving.  I think about things like what if my future-daughter-in-law's don't like me and vent to their friends over walnut salad about how crazy I am and why can't I just leave her alone.  I am that listening friend and it scares me. 

I assume that my daughter will want me there when she welcomes her own child into the world, but what if her hubby doesn't?  Will I be able to miss seeing the unfathomable joy as it seeps into her heart and etches it's way on to her face like a permanent mask? 

I know that worrying about these things now is pointless.  Because the tighter I hold the harder they will push away.  But just when it's too much for my heart to handle Dylan will remark as we walk home from school:

"I don't get why some fifth grade boys are embarrassed to hug their moms in front of people." 

And I can breathe a little easier as he wraps himself around my waist without a hint of hesitation. 

Because, for now, I still hold the magic of healing scrapes with a kiss, I still make the best food ever and no matter how hard you try, you will not outdo me in starting the perfect shower water. 

I don't even really mind that they argue over who's turn it is for our sleepover.  Stolen covers and all.