Saturday, March 8, 2014
I think of the little boy who stirred from a deep sleep when I leaned in to give him one last goodnight kiss last night and he gently touched my cheek and whispered, "I love you, Mom" before falling back into his dreams.
I think of the little boy who repeats praises and lessons I have taught him to his little brother, Bug. "I love you, Baby Bug. I so very proud of you!" "You needs to listen to yous Mom and Dad and Nana and Papa. They keep Monkey and Bug safe!" "What's the matter, Baby Bug? It's okay. Mommy be right back!"
I think of the little boy who eagerly waits for me to get home for lunch and constantly tells my mom how much he loves me. "I really love Mommy." Mommy's a really good Mommy." "Mommy teach me to have good manners." "Mommy a very smart lady." "I really love Mommy." "Mommy coming home real soon!"
I think of the little boy who runs to me for random hugs and to kiss his "owies."
I think of the little boy who wants to sleep in Mommy's bed when he's sick. "Mommy sorry about your icky coughs. It's okay. I sleep in your bed, Mommy?"
I think of the little boy who wants to "sing some songs" before bed every night and who always requests "Jesus Loves Me" and "the red and blue and purple and green and orange and yellow song" (aka. "Jesus Loves the Little Children") because "Mommy teached me songs about Jesus."
I think of the little boy who has spent more time in my arms than in anyone else's, and I know that is exactly where he belongs.
I may never be Monkey's "legal" mother, but I challenge anyone to look at my son and tell him that I'm not his "real" mom.