A Blanket for Mommy
Written by Jodi Neelin
Inspiration
As the day drew to a close, I settled Jenna into bed, where I usually go through the routine and, despite her typical five-star attempts to stall me into another story, back rub or cup of water, say my goodnights and let her go to sleep. She has often been known to continue calling out her pledges of love or hopes that my dreams be sweet after I've shut the door. But tonight, although she tried none of those techniques, I sensed she needed a little more TLC and stayed to rub her back while she drifted off to sleep.
Even after she shut her eyes and her breathing slowed, I stayed in her bed, watching my beautiful daughter and stroking her hair.
"I would be so sad if I lost you, Mommy," Jenna whispered.
"Why do you think you're going to lose me, Sweetheart?" I asked. "I'm not leaving you."
"I wish you could stay in my bed all night, Mom," she responded, more than half asleep. I can honestly say I wanted the same.
"I love you, Pumpkin, and I will be right down the hall," I assured her.
What pure and bottomless love our small children give us. Despite our most heinous flaws, self-perceived or otherwise, our little children overlook them generously and gaze upon us with adoring eyes devoid of judgment.
This is not a right; it is a privilege, which makes it all the more precious, and reason not to take a single moment of it for granted, as if like the sun, it will always be there again in the morning no matter what.
I wish I could save every hug, every kiss, every sticky hand held, fingerprint on the door, every smile, giggle, every "I love you," every "You're my best friend in the whole wide world," every tear soothed, tickle, crushed cheerio in my suit jacket pocket, every sticker found on the back of my clothes or under my feet , every unconditionally enthusiastic greeting at the door, wilted dandelion, every swing, slide, walk in the sand, every haphazard manicure, tug on my shirt, speck of glitter, dance, chalk scribble, every playdough ball, every snuggle, every car ride, song, splash in the kiddie pool, every formula-scented breath on my neck, every chortle, every "Mommy," every story time, every lullaby.
Caught up in the minutiae of the day, it is sometimes difficult to remember that while these treasures are in a seemingly unending supply, time's callous march will take them all away from me as it has done so relentlessly for everyone else. I wish I could save all these things, so that one day when my daughter is grown and these moments have ceased, I could weave them into a gigantic blanket in which to wrap myself with my empty arms and be comforted by its incredible sweetness.
Instead, I will collect them fiercely in my heart and enjoy each exquisite moment for the unbelievably precious gift that it is. And I will strive to be the kind of person who is worthy of this shower of deep, unadulterated love, that I might earn as much of it as I can while it's still so readily available.
Jodi Neelin lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and daughter. Her first book, The Pregnasaurus, shows the humorous side of motherhood.
