I can’t stop thinking about this face.
And how it’s lips can charm me and
scorch me all in a matter of minutes.
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Scenario:
Jamis asks for a hug.
I’m bein’ a lil’ bit goofy and flop on top of him. Arrrrrrg! “There’s your huggy hug.”
“No, a real hug.”
So I sit up properly on the couch and he folds into my arms. Actually, I think we’re at the point where I fold into him, because the hugs are less frequent and he tends to offer them not only when he needs one, but when he knows I need one.
In this instance it is he who wants a moment of love, though. The little guys are asleep and we are preparing for another hilarious chapter of Double Fudge.
The hug:
“Thanks mom. I love you. I do.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Even though you have such a hard time listening and following directions?”
“Yeah. It’s just my ears.
They need to be pipe cleaned.”
We laugh.
We laugh honestly.
And then.
The inevitable.
This comes about each time we share a moment of great humor.
Each time Jamis does or says something funny, impressive or surprising.
“Tell Daddy.”
And I almost had the moment all to myself.
Daddy, mind you, is in Virginia for 4 days. Not even around. If he were, Jamis would run to the office and tell him the remarkably funny thing that he just said. Dan would smile and half-heartedly laugh – nothing like my swirl of giggles beside him on the couch.
But it’s not my reaction that counts. He knows I love him. He knows I always will. And beyond that, he knows I think he is just GREAT!
It is his father’s reaction that warrants all the attention around here. It is so much more important that Daddy think he’s GREAT! And he looks for that in every word that’s spoken between them. And I tell Dan, “You know, what he thinks you think about him is much more important than what he thinks I think about him.” And sadly, I’m sure it always will be.
It’s just another reason my heart bleeds for having three boys. Three boys that are always looking toward their father for acceptance and guidance.
I will be the pillar of love and strength, I suppose. But that’s an awfully tall order. Maybe I’ll just make a point to always give hugs. In quiet times. With noone near. That’s when the good stuff comes out.
Read More in boys, fatherhood, motherhood, oldest child, Sarah Writes, three kids
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I don’t know how you find the time to write with Dan away. I’ve been trying to write this comment for five minutes!
That face, though. That FACE. How is it possible that he is the same boy who is shown with our masthead, all blocked in by plastic gates!
Happy Day, sister.
What a beautifully bittersweet post. I wonder if my husband feels similarly about our girls…
Oh, how this post touched me. My 3-year-old worships his “Dada.” And although I can admit that as far as fathers go, he really rocks…man, does it break my heart when he says, “But Mama, I want Dada to read me books tonight…” (This happens every night it’s my turn to read to him….) I soooo get this.
My son is the same way, adores his dad, loves me but adores him. That’s ok with me. I know that if he gets hurt or is sad he will come to me but when dad is around I could be on fire and he wouldn’t even notice. Maybe it’s because dad is away at trainings and getting ready to go overseas, I don’t know.
Stopped over from the MBC under 100 followers group. Come check out the mayhem!
Vanessa
http://www.militarywifemayhem.com
And I am finally catching up a little bit this morning. My oldest has always been a “mama’s boy.” Except for he’s not so much anymore. Recently, and suddenly, Dad is cooler. And it hurts a little when he lets it show. Trying to ride it out.