Sometimes – at least once a day, if I’m honest – there are those moments that I just wish I could keep in a bottle. You know, for twenty years’ time, when Bubba is demanding $50 and my car keys and refusing to tell me where he is going or when he’ll be home. Then I could just sneak off, uncork a moment and relive what it was like to have the sweet little boy I am enjoying now. I guess, in a way, that’s what this blog is for.
For example – the other day he had a nightmare or something and woke up very distressed. I sat on the couch with him and he just snuggled into me the way he used to when he was an actual baby (he’s 18 months old now, yikes!) and to my amazement, closed his eyes and went back to sleep with his head on my chest. It was so precious I waved at Daddy Impractical until he took a photo, because I wanted very badly to bottle that moment and cherish it forever.
This morning when we were laying in bed, he leant over me and said “Mum?” and when I opened my eyes to look at him he gave me a brilliant smile, leant down and gave me a kiss. And then another. And then another. And another. After about ten kisses, I started laughing in spite of myself and he began laughing too. He toppled over and threw his skinny little arms around my neck and I just squeezed him tight and wished for a bottle.
The moment that is most strongly branded into my mind, however, is as follows:
I have been recently diagnosed with diabetes and as a result, I have to inject myself with insulin twice a day – not an ideal condition for someone with a phobia of needles, but I have been managing. It is amazing what you can force yourself to do when your life, and the wellbeing of your family, is on the line.
Anyway, the injections go into my tummy. More precisely, into the fatty bit sort of around your belly button. It is now covered in spots, little purple marks where the needle has been and the occasional bruise from when I haven’t done it quite right. I don’t hide the injections from Bubba but I don’t let him near me whilst I am doing it, for safety reasons. However, he has developed quite a fascination with tummies. He often lifts his own shirt and shows me his tummy. Then, if I am sitting down, he will lift my top up to look at mine.
The other day, he lifted my top up and lent over to squeeze my tummy the way he has seen me do when I am about to give myself a needle. He was quite gentle at first, but when I laughed (it was pretty funny, and it sort of tickled) he did it again and then a third time until I asked him not to squeeze too hard. I explained to him that he had to be gentle because Mummy’s tummy is bruised and sore from where she has to stick the needle in to take her medicine.
He looked at me for a moment and then down at my tummy. With very delicate fingers, he traced over some of the spots, lingering over a bruise. At first I was afraid he was going to press on the bruise the way he would on a button, because it was a different colour. To my surprise, however, he leant over and very carefully pressed a kiss onto my sore tummy. When he looked up at me with that brilliant smile of his, I will admit I had tears in my eyes. I thanked him very much, picking him up for a hug and saying that Mummy’s tummy felt much better now. He leant in to give me another kiss before wriggling down and running off to play. Oh, I wish I had a bottle for that moment.
Has anything like this ever happened to you? Sharing is caring!
L0ts of love,