There are many parts of parenting that cannot be described to non-parents. The highs
and the lows. Before I had children I had friends tell me how they were so sick of being touched. I figured, as with all parts of life, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. I assumed this would be a strength of mine. I crave physical contact like a gasp of fresh air. I want to be caressed, held, touched, rubbed, laid on, leaned against ... I mean it really doesn't matter much. Sometimes it just feels good when my 80lb dog curls up in a ball on my legs while I am in bed. So I thought I would be immune to the "too much touch" frustration. (Let me insert here, I was fully aware I would have many, MANY, other weaknesses).
Tonight I was putting my son and daughter to bed. Josh was out for the evening, so I was putting both children to bed, and we were switching up the routine some - which my son is not prone to handling well. I was doing my best to keep my cool, explain to him rationally through his irrational
tantrum outburst. While he is screaming "no WAY! I don't want to! nu UH!" I'm trying to remember that what he is really saying, is, "this is new and different. I don't like it. I have frustrated expectations." It takes every ounce of will power I have to not scream back. It's the end of the day, we are both exhausted, my daughter is sitting sweetly in my lap while I sit on the floor waiting for my son to calm down and sit with us so we can read together. That sounds like an easy feat. It is not. Inside my body, my heart is racing, my brain is screaming and my adrenaline glands are secreting everything they've got. He finally calms enough for me to start reading. And here it is folks: he starts to sweetly, absent-mindedly
rub my knee.
It is something that if my husband starting doing I might die of happiness. If, in another moment of time, my son did it - I would feel the warmth of a special moment creep through me. But in that moment, I tried to swipe his hand away. He put it back, telling me "oh mom, I am just rubbing you softly". So I leave it there. Shaking. Literally. Because my insides are so contorted. Frustration from a moment ago rips through me. The literal sensory overload is rocking me to my core. Yet his fingers feel soft and sweet. I know it is important for him, so I leave his hand there. Yet I feel like if he keeps rubbing I might crawl out of my skin. I am not immune. Not at all.
The most extraordinary part? Just about 12 minutes later, with just he and I, my son chose a sweet, religious book on
The House of the Lord, one he has never chosen before. He chose it over 15 other books he loves and adores that were all sitting right there. We had the sweetest moment reading peacefully together, my heart growing more than I can explain. The Spirit surrounding us and the love of my son consuming me.
