A lot goes on in an eight-year-old brain.
Imagination runs wild, darting through blasts of genius and chaos and inventions and chores, my son only seems to calm down when in my arms at bedtime. I’m not sure what finally shuts off in his head, but the switch is flipped and he can nestle next to me and serenely tell me about his day, about his worries, about his ideas without the swirling and swirling that usually takes over his brain.
This is the boy that, like his father, doesn’t stop moving. This is my son that does ‘laps’ in my house from wall to wall, sprinting between Lego constructions. But this is also the boy that tonight, curled next to me and snuggling said, ‘Mom, why don’t you blog about how I like to lay with you at bedtime.’
And lately he never wants me to blog about him. Or take his photo. These are all requests I respect as he gets older and can not only read what I am writing, but also can and should have some control over what it is put out there about him on this world wide web.
So tonight, as he’s next to me watching as I type, I want him to know that I can feel how calm he is. I want him to know that if I could, I would take that peace and bottle it, and send it with him as he goes off into the world every day. That safety, that quiet.
But I also want him to know I wouldn’t trade it for the brilliance that is inside his sometimes chaotic but beautiful mind. While it may be hard for him to make sense of all the ideas firing left and right and up and down and back and forth- they are his ideas. His amazing thoughts and dreams. And one day he will harness them. He will learn to control them. And he will not need that bedtime zen he gets from hearing his mother’s breath and heartbeat.
He tells me as I write this that snuggles at bedtime are the best because he gets to be with me, yet I am here all day. I say it’s not just that he’s with me, it’s that he’s calm. He’s tired, he feels safe, as though he can turn off some of the zips and zigs and zags and zaps that never seem to end in his fast-paced body.
Yeah Mom, that too…but I have you here and I wish you could just be with me all the time, then I could feel like this forever.
Me too baby. Me too.
Sigh. So wonderful.
Love that sweet boy. Thinking of all of you a lot.
Such a special time — I share similar emotions regading my 6.5 yo son; the recharging and reconnecting that happens at bedtime keeps us both going through the day
Awwwwwww. You got me to get all sniffly.
Lovely. Poignant. It makes me appreciate how my 21 yo son will still hold my hand or lean his head on my shoulder when we are alone and just sitting and talking. I did something right. :o)
Dangit I’m crying. Beautiful.
“You know you’re a good blogger when…”
…you make your readers cry.
My son is two years older than yours, but I share the same sentiments. I will never be able to tell him with words how much he means to me, and how much I love him.
This got me all verklempt. On rare occasions, my 17yo will sit next to me on the couch and put his head on my shoulder. Melts my heart every time.
Very sweet and touching
So lovely–and so loving.
Love this post! blessings to you all. Btw, doggie next to your son is also calm I see.
So beautifully said. Sometimes it’s hard to describe the deep knowing we have for our children, but you nailed it. And oh, the sweetness of that pic.
Okay, someone pass me a tissue please……beautiful….