My husband and I were talking today. I was sitting on the floor; he was sitting on the couch. Our baby (who is, if you can believe it, a mere six weeks away from turning ONE) was playing on the floor between us.
It would have been a perfect moment except that I was fretting unnecessarily about this and that that mothers fret about. I’m not even going to explain what I was fretting about because I don’t need to remember that part of the story.
Anyway. There we were. Our little family. Mom fretting. Dad urging common sense. Baby, cute and oblivious, pulling himself up on the couch or the ottoman or his daddy.
Then it happened. BBL turned and crawled over to me. Pulled himself up as far as he could until I helped him the rest of the way. He put his arms around me and rested his head on my shoulder. And stayed there. Just hugging his mom.
I looked at my husband. Where was this coming from? He could tell his mom was stressed and needed a hug was the reply.
He kept hugging me for longer than a mom should hope for from an energetic and curious ten-and-a-half-month-old. For 30 seconds maybe. Even longer. I got teary. Overwhelmed by the love I have for this amazing little person. I also felt an assurance that my son believes in me. Has confidence in me.
A couple of times he lifted his head and looked at me. Then he would smile or giggle or laugh and then bury his face in my shoulder.
If only we could freeze time. I could have stayed in that moment forever.
Alas. My best option is to write it down so I have a better chance of remembering.