First thing, crack of dawn, my sweet 5 year old bundle of good-smelling, cozy-pajamed boy-ness unapologetically threw back my covers and dove into bed with me. Ezra nuzzled into me and thrust his little clammy fingers into all my warmest mama places, wet tender kisses on my face, sweet little mammal cub. Then he said, with utter seriousness and commitment, like a man having to pull himself away to go to work: “I do love you Mama, but I must get up and practice my skipping!” And with that he leapt out of bed and began earnestly skipping (a brand new accomplishment, as of being taught last night by his big sister) back and forth across my bedroom floor, hop-skip-hop, skip-hop-skipping while I lay there still in my bed, my eyes barely open, taking in his amazing force of enthusiastic embodiment, focus, determined joy.
Soon he skipped out of my room and smiling, I drifted off again for a blissful stretch. Next time I woke to the sound of my children playing… I heard Araela(almost 9) call Ezra(5) “Papa” and Ezra answer in a deep man-voice. At one point I heard Araela say “Papa, it’s time for us each to get on our own ships, and I don’t want to argue about it..” and Ezra answered, deep, clear Papa-voice, “I am your father, and we will travel on the same ship.” I reveled quietly, transitioning out of sleep, in gratitude for their shared love still for diving into imagination together, knowing it is bound to shift with time. Soon they both heard me stirring and tip-toed into my room, seeing my open eyes, my arms sleepily reaching for them as they crawled in with me. My little lovegirl, notorious for not wearing enough clothes on winter mornings, felt icy cold as she giggled to my gasp, diving her slender body parts into my bed-warmed flesh. I groaned and squealed to her iciness, and Ezra said “Don’t worry Mama, I’ll keep you warm.”
With my girl tucked into my left and my boy scooped into my right I found a deep sigh of sheer abundance. Such love, such love, such luck to get to love like this. Such luck. All the hard work of motherhood, and single motherhood at that, the truly selfless service, the sleep-deprived stretches of caring for them in illness while ill myself, the mundane, relentless fullness of attending to a million tasks, the endless demands, the wild heart-stretch of vulnerable attachment, the crazy balancing-act of mothering alongside a necessity for self-care and money-making and attending to the many other callings of my heart~ oh all of it is so profoundly worth it~ just to have one tucked under each wing, nestled into my heart of mama-love. So, so worth it: just to get to love like this. <3