Years ago, if you would have told me, “Sometimes you’re so happy, you cry,” I would say, yep…I know what you’re talking about. I’ve felt that. Tears of joy sound a little ironic, but in all actuality, it’s a good feeling. It’s happened at various points in my life. I get it. I understand. But now, as a parent, I can say there’s more to it than simply ‘tears of joy’.
Sometimes being so extremely happy, can in fact, make you sad. And then you cry from the sadness that has resulted from the happiness. Make sense? Or is this just my neurotic mommyness coming out again?
Let me illustrate:
I’m putting a 15-month-old Jaxon to bed for the evening. He’s had story time—2 3 stories this particular evening. He’s had some milk. It’s now officially snuggle time! This is my favorite part of the evening. This is where Jax talks to me. It’s when Jax gives hugs and kisses. He snuggles up for a few minutes before he goes into his bed. I love this part of the night---I just bask in his snuggles and his need of mommy.
And then, I hope. I hope that he does the nose kisses. It’s the sweetest thing in the world, and I love the way he kisses my nose:
Both hands on either side of my face…
Stretch up tall so he can reach my nose…
Look me in the eyes through the darkness of the room…
Lean forward…
And plant a drooly mouth right on my nose…and giggle.
Lean back…smile…giggle….
Repeat.
Well…sometimes.
Sometimes he’ll only do it once and lay back down only to lift his head back up from my shoulder and do it again. But, I am lucky. I usually get at least 3. I never ask for them. I don’t want to “jinx” it. Instead, I hope. I hope that I get nose kisses. It is one of the sweetest things.
I smile…
I giggle…
I wipe the toddler drool off my nose…
I say, “I love you….lay down…night-night.” (while inside hoping for more)
It’s not that I don’t enjoy them, but I don’t want to discourage the sleep that needs to happen. I don’t want to be the reason his routine is thrown off and he misses his “window” of optimal bedtime (it does exist, trust me on this) and we’re up all night. That’s not going to happen if I can help it.
But this time, I start to cry. As happy as I am at this moment, I am suddenly hit with an intense sadness. I realize, this little moment in time…just a few minutes of our evening routine…will soon be a thing of the past. Soon, he won’t kiss my nose and giggle. Soon he won’t even remember that he did it. Soon, he’ll be embarrassed to know that he ever did something as silly as that. And then he’ll move away and have a family of his own. And now, I’m bawling---but doing the silent kind that won’t alert Jax to the fact that mommy’s upset. After all, he needs his sleep. See? I’m a martyr, here. Yes, people….this is how my mother-brain works. I’m tearing up just writing this.
In fact, it’s only a month later, and already the nose kisses have practically disappeared. They’re few and far between. I miss them. A lot.
But, I know everything is just a phase. Everything that has happened up until this point has just been a stepping stone, a building block to the next phase—all helping to create the young man he will eventually become. A young man whom I will be proud to know and love.
I’ve already seen so many things disappear in his short life. Things that I miss and kinda wish he still did because they were so cute. Things that I’ve already forgotten but am reminded about by Josh, our pictures, or the baby book. So many things are already in the past and new things have come to take their place. And he’s not even 2 years old yet. I can’t imagine the next thing he’s going to do or say that I’m going to fall in love with. I can’t wait for him to do it. I can’t wait to be amazed.
But, I still
hope
hope
hope
for my nose kisses.
