The patter of tiny feet. Wispy baby hair tickling my nose as I cuddle them in my arms. The big eyed wonder of their child minds grasping knowledge of something. I have been knee deep in these feelings for the last few days, as I am caring for a good friend of mines granddaughter.
Cora Mae is 16 months and full of little girl LIFE! She has embraced me as a caretaker and I am flooded with feelings I haven’t felt in so many years. (And how strange, yet appropriate, my youngest child – Kyle – today! – just happens to be his 26th birthday, my baby is 26!! ugh.) ((Happy Birthday Squirt!!))
If you know anything about me you’ll know that I didn’t want to have kids, until they happened to me. I’ve known parents who were born to be outstanding role models. I didn’t think I fit into that category. And in spite of the chaotic lifestyle I lead, my kids turned out great! These couple days, I have had the pleasure of being transported to back then ~ when my kids were small and depended on me for everything. The structure (albeit tilted), the love, the physical closeness of their little bodies laying on me, those funny faces, the sheer joy in their eyes, the little kid laughter that only a child possesses, the little arms hugging my neck with all their might, the whispered i love you momma…’s, gosh that time is gone. I have only memories and a few pictures of that childlike innocence. The unconditional love of my children. Shelby and her big brown eyes… my sweet Booboo. Kyle and his blonde curls… my little protector. Those two special little faces right in front of me… bumpin’ noses… laughin’.. kissin’… huggin’… snugglin’. I loved them. I still love them.
My kids are grown and have lives and kids of their own. But that doesn’t change how I am connected to them. In my mind they are still the tiny creatures I nurtured into adults. Life isn’t fair… couldn’t they have stayed smaller just a little longer?