Actually, there were many. He sat and snuggled me more today than he has in a month. He reserves most of his snuggles for his beloved Daddy. I even got snuggle time with both kids at once several times today, and a couple of family snuggle times, too! (During one of which I was inspired, as you can see, to take a crappy family picture with the point-and-shoot turned back on us.) lIt was a great day for all of us!

We spent the morning with a friend and hit the chiropractor, Beaners for a haircut (forgot my camera…aargh…but that might be good because he sat in a pink car for his haircut!) and Costco (where I go broke weekly). We came home for lunch and a quick play in the yard before nap time. (Yes, he’s napping again! And sleeping at night! Knock on wood…).

(I really love parentheses. And apparently they must be italicized. Who knew?)

At nap, we do a mini-version of the nighttime singing routine I wrote about here where I just sing the ABC’s, one other song of his choice and do our regular “I love you SOOOOOOO (big squeeze) much” routine which, like everything else, he makes me repeat four hundred-ish times.
Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my best boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my favourite boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my kind boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my thoughtful boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my helpful boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my generous boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my intelligent boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my amazing boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my awesome boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my cool boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my great-big-brother boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my athletic boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my smart boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my handsome boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my wonderful boy.

Primo: More Iluhyousomuch.

Me: I love you SOOOOOOO much, my Primo.

Primo: Iluhyousomuch, my Mommy. (Big Squeeze)

God, I love being a mom.

I’ve been thinking about something lately and reading Deb’s post this afternoon inspired me to type it out just to get it firmly implanted in my head.

I don’t lose my temper often, but when I’m tired or hungry or busy I tend to get a little quite cranky. I try hard not to let my children (or any children) see this side of me and for the most part I’m successful. For some reason, I think most of us succeed more at things like this in public. My students at school have rarely if ever seen my cranky side. But why on earth would it be okay for my own children who rely on my husband and me for their every need to see this side?

I’m a very patient person but the times that I have gotten frustrated with my son and pulled or pushed him (a little too roughly, in my opinion) away from something (like the fireplace or computer) he has gotten a deflated look on his face that I can’t forget. It lasts only a few seconds and I always hug him after and explain as best I can to an under 2 year old why he can’t touch it and then we’re both back to our usual happy selves but I always wish it had never been happened at all. Usually it’s something I could have prevented easily. Maybe by getting off the phone or putting my computer away when he’s awake. I can’t move the fireplace, though. It’s when he’s hungry or tired himself that he gets himself into the most trouble. (Hmmmm, sound familiar?) But I’m the adult so I’m the one that needs to do the right thing for him. Easier said than done sometimes.

Not to be a Debbie Downer, but any of us could drop dead at any second and if I did I’d hate for my children’s final memory of me to be of impatience or of anything but love. When I’m well rested and fed I find it much easier to be conscious of parenting with love. I’m patient and try to use all of the teachable moments I can find to give lessons with love. I discipline with love.

I’d never hit my kids but a raised voice or a rough pull away from an “eyes only” item is probably just as bad.

Each time I praise my children, laugh with my children, have fun with my children or even peacefully co-exist with my children I am making deposits into their bank of self worth. Each time I am not the best mom I can be I am making a withdrawal, and the very thought of withdrawing from a child’s self-worth brings tears to my eyes. It’s not good enough for me that they simply have a positive balance in their account. That’s the bare minimum and I’m not a bare minimum kind of person. My goal is to make every interaction a deposit, even if it involves discipline.

That’s one of the things I remember about my mom from my growing up years (she’s still setting those examples as a grandma and her own mother was the same) and I will continue the cycle of love and positive parenting to the best of my ability. It’s a lofty goal, but I think I can do it.