Every weekday morning when our alarm goes off, I get up and do a 30-minute workout. It helps me to get my day going and in the right mindset to actually take on the day ahead.
This morning, I pushed my blankets down and right as I was about to swing my legs over the side, a little arm shot out from beneath the covers and pinned me down.
I don’t know when Lee got in our bed and I didn’t know that he was snuggled completely beneath the blankets behind me, but the arm was comforting, nonetheless.
Though I say “little arm”, it’s actually not a little arm anymore. What was once short and chubby with soft little baby fat, is now long and lanky. He used to have so many little rolls, you had to pull them apart during bathtime to make sure he was getting clean. Though that was well over two years ago now, it feels like last week.
He pushed his head out from beneath the comforter and rested his chin on my shoulder. His arm tightening around my upper torso and pulling me backwards against him.
“Don’t do your workout today Mama,” he whispered.
“I have to baby, you don’t want me to get too chunky, do you?”
“I’m just not ready to get up yet,” he answered.
“Well why don’t you stay here and Daddy will come get you when it’s time to get up?” I suggested.
“I just want to snuggle with you. Please snuggle with me,” he asked.
And back down I went.
He’s getting so big; I can’t believe how big he is. And while I was laying there this morning, I realized that he was holding me.
Like I REALIZED it.
And I know you’re thinking, “Well duh, Angela, you just said that,” but hear me out… for most of his life, I have been the one holding him. Carrying him around, rocking him, trying to squeeze out one last snuggle before naptime, gathering him in for hugs, etc. etc. But here we are, only four years into our relationship as mother and son, and he is the one holding me.
How on Earth did I get so lucky?
I was talking to my company’s CEO a little while ago when we found ourselves on the topic of raising children. He has two grown daughters, one in her early thirties and the other in her late twenties. He was joking that I looked a little beat and asked which cup of coffee I was on for the day. A very understanding man, but not neccessarily a sentimental one (in the workplace anyway), I appreciated him asking about them and indulging me by looking at the pictures I handed over. And after a few minutes we went back to talking about work.
But, as he was leaving, he looked back at me and said, “Oh, and the thing about children.. try to remember that the days are long, but the years are short. Hold them close for as long as you can.”
I’m not quite sure that his words resonated with me at the time, but I really feel them today.
So, here are a few recent pictures of the long days, but the short years. I hope you enjoy the smiles and the giggles as much as I do.