Snuggles with my baby girl

We're a few weeks into the new school year.

It appears that all of us are suffering, adjusting perhaps, a more appropriate term. The kids come home tired. Exhausted really. Their baby brother won't sleep through the night or nap during the day. I'm back to class and working on two contra projects (in addition to my latest freelance contract).

Seems so pop culture-cool to suggest we're zombies. All five of us. But we are.

It's difficult to be a good mom when I'm tired. When I'm exhausted, I feel like the worst mom in the world (so I'm also more dramatic when I hit the wall). But seriously, I thought losing two kids to full day learning would make my life easier. Turns out, not so much.

Tonight, after a VERY LONG afternoon, and after multiple requests to go to bed early, I found myself in Brooklyn's room. She chose her 'favourite' books, two oldie board style toddler reads for us to snuggle into bed with and read together. We took our time, I asked plenty of questions to practice her new speech therapy goals and when we were all done, I turned her light off and stepped back to her bed to tuck her in.

Then something fabulous happened.

'Mom, stay and snuggle with me.'

Oh, snuggles. I love me some snuggles. Especially with my girl, my built-in friend for life. My immediate reaction was to smile and hop in, but as I found my way to her extra pillow I realized I hadn't snuggled in some time. In fact, I don't remember the last time she and I snuggled at bed time.

The last two and a half weeks had been so busy,  I forgot to snuggle.

I'd been racing. From project to project, from meeting to meeting, from school to home and back again. And I'd forgotten how much I needed a snuggle, how important they were to my relationship with my daughter.

The two of us got all comfy, closed our eyes and then she jumped.

'Wait! I have to kiss you!' she said.

Ok, now she's scoring major bonus points. She proceeded  to grab my hand. One by one, she separated my fingers and kissed them. Gently. Carefully. Then she asked for my other hand and repeated her pattern of kisses.

I was in such awe of her perfection. My four year old little princess. I could feel the tears warming my eyes but I was speechless.

When she was done, she grabbed my face. Kissed my nose, forehead, chin and each cheek. Then she smiled brightly, and laid a giant one on my lips.

She has a way of knowing exactly what mommy needs. And I love her to pieces for it.

I am smitten with this little girl. Her gentle soul. Her crazy laugh. And most of all, her ability to remind me that nothing - not a bad day, week or month - is ever more important than taking time for her snuggles.

I'm not ready

The truth is, I'm not ready.
I don't think I'll ever be ready.

I just tucked in my two oldest, beautiful children. Asked them to please get a great sleep because tomorrow was their first day, first experience as full day students.

We'd already shopped for back to school clothing. Pulled out backpacks. Talked about snacks and lunch and which zipper container to open on their new, very fancy lunch bags.

Reminded them to use their manners. Get to the bathroom before too long. Wash their hands. Listen at circle time. Ask questions. Behave.

I told them how proud I was of each of them. How much I love them. How I will miss them dearly.

Then I said goodnight. Closed the door. And cried.

Cried for my pending loss. Cried for the quietness about the take over my house. Cried because I know life moves too quickly, children grow too fast, and kisses don't fit inside backpacks.

I cried because I love them. Love who they have become, love seeing them grow every single day, love every single ounce of their little bodies and souls. Love who they have moulded me to become as a mom and woman.

This journey, this incredible opportunity to have been home, their stay-at-home, work-at-home mother, has been more demanding and as a result more rewarding then I ever dreamed was possible.

And so, I'm not ready.
To walk them to school. Kiss them goodbye. Turn and walk away.
I'm not ready.

My Nolan. My Brooklyn. Forever my preschoolers, forever my little sidekicks on an adventure with me. Forever my soul mates, partners in crime and snuggle monkeys.

Forever my babies.
And so, I will cry. Over and over again.

Because I have been blessed with the most special gift of all. Being their mother.

xoxo