Hold You?! Is that too much to ask?

"Hold you! Hold you!" He repeats himself again and again as I try to chop lettuce at the kitchen counter for taco night. "One minute Francis," I say as patiently as possible in my frazzled and exhausted state. But he doesn't wait, not at all! He starts pulling at my pants and repeating himself louder and faster. At this point my pants are sagging off my backside, my hair is in my face and my patience is teetering like Humpty Dumpty on his wall! In a matter of seconds it feels like my mind will crumble into a million pieces, and just like the nursery rhythm... “All the kings’ horses and all the kings’ men won’t be able to put mummy's brain back together again.”  Yet, this little blond haired boy has no clue that Humpty and Mummy have so much in common at this moment. His determined brown eyes are pleading, "Mommy, mommy, hold you, hold you..." and so just to silence him I bend down and hug him. But that’s not enough, “Hold you!” He demands as he climbs up my legs like a little monkey, and he is only silenced when he is sitting on my hip and I am chopping lettuce awkwardly with one hand. 

Now you may be judging me, “Why do you make him work so hard just to be held?” Well you will notice that this particular story takes place at the END of the day, when I’m making dinner…This means that I have already spent my ENTIRE day fulfilling the , “Hold you” needs. I have also heard close to 1 million “HI’s,” said three inches from my face in constant repetition – beginning when I first open my eyes at 6:30 in the morning.  I have searched high and low on my hands and knees for Buzz, YeeHaw (Woody) and Sippy cups more times than I can count, I have refolded the same blankets and picked up the same toys so many times that I feel like someone just keeps hitting the rewind button on my life. I have had this little boy lick my face, pee on me, plunge his hands down my shirt and stick his dirty little fingers in every glass of water I have consumed. Not to mention the Falling Asleep tendency in which he must be laying on top of me with both hands nuzzled as close to my armpits as I will let him go.  

So, “Yes!” By the end of the day, “Hold you” is a lot to ask – Okay!?

 
Then, not so many hours later, as he lies in bed (well I should say I lay in bed and he lays on me), with his hands safely tucked under my arms, I feel his little body finally go limp, I sigh with relief. And just as I begin to enjoy the silence my mind starts to wander,

and suddenly I realize how small he is,

and how much bigger he is than he used to be,

and how much bigger he’s going to GET!

And so the tears come, first just a little, then sobbing – soaking his beautiful baby-smelling hair as he sleeps. I hold him tighter and I pity myself and my poor motherly heart that is bound to be broken as the “Hold you’s,” and incessant, “HI’s,” are replaced with, “I’ll do it myself,” and eye rolling. What frustrated me today will be a cherished memory in days to come. And because I’m apparently self-destructive, over emotional and tad dramatic my mind flashes forward to a day, not so far from today, that I will peer UP at my little boy with my own determined brown eyes and say, “Hold you?” And just to silence me he will bend down and hold me. And his hair will probably be in his face and his pants will probably be sagging 
off his backside…