open arms

It was quite alarming to me to note that I haven't written anything in so long. I've been flitting about the blogosphere, commenting here & there, and reading a lot. Also doing a lot with the kids and trying not to stay up too late. And there you have it -- only so many hours in a day, etc.

Not that I don't have anything to say -- just not enough time to say it in. I expect things to free up in the next day or two.

Today once again Nina warmed my heart and finally got me writing again, with her sweetly nostalgic post about her grandmother's ample hugs. I remember being hugged that way as a small child, too. I remember it the same way I remember sitting on my father's lap so he could dry my hair. Those times were the closest I ever got to my father, who was reserved in that typical Scots-Irish way. He liked to be hugged but would always be gruff about it, "Aarrgghh! OK, OK, that's enough!" he'd say, but always with a smile. Those evenings when he'd drape a towel over my head and rub my hair dry were so special. The feeling of his big hands moving over my head, shush-shush-shush, gently but thoroughly knotting up all my hair in an effort to get the wet out of it. How funny that I have such good memories of the drying, but none at all (good or bad) of what must have been horrific combing-out sessions, afterwards! Selective amnesia, it's a blessing.

With my own three little ones, we have a lot of affectionate contact every day. Early on in my tenure as a mom, I discovered the very best way to call my children to me. It's completely silent -- I kneel down and open my arms to them, and they come to me. I gather them up in my arms as completely as I can, and just hold them tight for a half a minute, or a minute if I can get away with it.

I was surprised that this still works with DS1, who is a very big boy of 8 years old now. He's more than likely to say, "Uh, you can let go now, Mom," after a little while, but he will still come to my arms when I open them to him. But DS2, who is going through a rough patch of growing up too fast and too slowly all at the same time, can scarcely bear to leave, and will curl up in my lap for as long as he's allowed, after the active part of the hug is over.

But if someone is upset or sad or just tired, my open arms are the simplest way to offer them whatever comfort I can give. I imagine my heart will break the day I open my arms and one of them turns away. I hope that day never comes.