Grown Men Don't Cuddle Their Mom's

Today is going to be a very l-o-n-g day.  Paul and I are NOT go-to-bed-early kind of people, but were both so exhausted last night that we were asleep by 9:30(!).  Crazy!  New record.  But as I was about to fall asleep, I felt happy that I would be so well rested for tomorrow because I have a scary amount of stuff that I have to do in the next 3 weeks (we are moving, but got possession of the house last evening and have until the 31st to paint most of the new house, pack, move and unpack.)  So everyday is going to be a Very. Big. Day. 

At about 12:30am, I woke up obsessing about all that I need to do.  I finally got out of bed half an hour later and worked on a master list hoping that I would be able to sleep after I wrote it all out.  After finally feeling tired again at 3:30, I thought I would try again to go back to sleep.  After another 20 minutes of lying there - I heard little footsteps get out of bed, a tentative turn of our squeaky door knob, and an announcement of a bad dream.  Lincoln crawled into bed on my side and I happily snuggled up to him, grateful for the diversion to my brain on hyper-plan mode.  He quickly fell asleep and as I lay there, holding my oldest I was in shock.  He was 7.5 years old!  When did that happen?  How did it happen?

And more importantly, how much longer would he climb into our bed because of a bad dream?

At that moment, I had an epiphany -  Grown men don't cuddle their mothers.  (Maybe sometimes a grown daughter - but I don't think it happens often.  I know, I know, very weird thing to think about - but still.)

Which meant that all this loveliness of fixing my children's problems by simply snuggling up was fleeting.

It made me so sad and joyful all at once.  Sad that I couldn't freeze the moment, sad that I could only hold him then until I had to get up to go to the bathroom, sad that there will all too soon come a time where my children won't need their mom so much.

And so joyful that I got to realize it!!!  Charlotte came in about 20 minutes after Lincoln and I was so glad that instead of being annoyed at my cramped space, I was in bliss!  I was sandwiched by 2 little sweet bodies!  I kept thinking - ok Ez, Oli... where are you guys?!?!  Don't you know about the party in here??

I finally got why you can cry when you are sad and cry when you are happy, because at that moment I could have cried for both.

My mind wandered back to my master list.  I still have to pack, paint, unpack and it is still a gross amount of work.  But my strategy is different.  My previous plan was to divert the kids as much as possible.  (Hello Treehouse!)  But now I want them there - packing, (and them unpacking what I pack), unpacking (breaking/messing up my perfectionism), and even painting (and the utter disaster that will ensue).  But I want them there for everything - because too soon they won't be.

Sorry about the sap level, but it is now 5:40 am and I have yet to go back to sleep, AND this is the closest I get to a journal... so there you go.

But I really think I am going to get "Grown Men Don't Cuddle Their Mom's" in vinyl and put it up somewhere so I don't forget that beautiful moment, because it really was beautiful.

I just am not excited about explaining my weirdness to all who see it.