Everytime I change Naveen's diaper I grab a generous helping of his cocoa brown skin. Often I take his feety pyjamas right off and hug his naked little body. Right there, smack in the middle of the day. I can't help it. At bathtime I am non-stop itching to grab his chunky lavish little bum. No warm blooded mama could resist it.
And I'm always calling out be careful going down the stairs! to my big boy. Every time. He's still too blissfully toddlerish to roll his eyes. Not looking forward to that day of reckoning, let me tell you. I'm trying to fit in as many smooches, hand-holding, snuggling and hugs-for-no-reason-other than-I-need-to-be-near-him as I can. No sense letting all this goodness go to waste.
I can't undo my motherness. It came with the babies.
You know cuz no one asks why the box for the new food processor is filled with chopping blades, shredders and slicer discs. They go - huh, so these are all the parts eh?
I can't help feeling sick about what's happening to our Japanese friends. How there are mommies losing babies, husbands losing wives, babies losing daddies. Pain, misery, suffering. I can't help but wonder guiltily how I got so lucky to be safe while they are in all kinds of agony.