A Mother’s touch
A tender kiss, a soft hug. Such simple caring gestures, yet in the eyes of a child you’re a miracle worker: There is nothing you can’t fix with a sprinkle of love & cuddles, right?
It goes without saying, there is nothing more gut wrenchingly difficult than seeing the fruit of you loins beside themselves in agony.
When your precious offspring sustains an almighty thud from falling over, you’ll resist the urge to mutter ‘Well, I told you so’ (after the 10 shouty commands you bellowed of ‘Slow down, you’ll trip!’) Instead, your natural reaction is to embrace this little soul, prepare your own ears for the earth shattering wails: be the hand to wipe away those almond shape tears, & the giver of unlimited cuddles.
On days when an accident occurs out of the blue, in an instant the world around you becomes a blur: time stands still. You’re heart skips a beat, then races so rapidly it’s trying to escape you chest cavity. You plead that this is the kind of incident those mummy/ daddy kisses can mend. Closing your eyes momentarily, like a child you make a wish & say a little prayer, to open them unto the panic. You swoop in, giving said child the once over- Breathing? Blood? Bones? All seemingly intact (phew) you go on to question ‘What on earth happened here then?’. Now most 2 year olds communication skills aren’t the clearest & most coherent at the best of times (let alone when they’re a soggy snot ball of tears). For love nor money, there are no clues to this mystery, time to call in the detectives ‘a la’ Jessica Flecture? Once calm has descended, I’m usually given an explanation & often just one word will suffice ‘Lego’ (we’ve all stepped on a cube of that to tell the tale!)
For all the days when I feel that on some level I’ve failed at being a good mum, scrap that, I feel like a really bad mum: not giving Bear my undivided attention, allowing too much crap into his diet (not actual crap you understand, crap in terms of too much salt, sugar: lack of fruit & veg) It’s in these moments, his time of need, I’m reassured that as it happens for all my misgivings I’m pretty good at this being a parent malarkey. I can ease his pain: offer him the warmth & reassurance needed, to go full gusto back into the world. & Rather smugly safe in the knowledge that nobody else can compete with me on this. In a room packed with his favourite people, even if Daddy or Nana rush to his aid-there is no one or amount of comfort that’ll make the grade, quite like a mummy Cuddley-kiss.
I often feel slightly guilty for this, as I’m sure it’s a tad upsetting for Mr. Bananas, that his mini-me seeks ‘Mumma’ out (even after his display of consolation efforts, on a heroic scale) But, I love how needed Bear makes me feel, this tiny human holds me upon a pedestal: ‘what ever is wrong, Mummy can always make me better’.
I often think it’s me who needs him more. At times I will admit, Bear is my security blanket, & on a day when nothing else will budge my bad-ass mood, just a fleeting embrace from mon petit will melt all my woes.
God forbid, any medical complications arise on a more serious level, where intervention & treatment is required: your mothers’ touch is rendered useless, all but condemned to the cutting room floor. You feel as though an apology is owed to your child, lying there, staring intently at you-awaiting your healing hands, ‘I’m sorry darling, Mummy needs some help with this booboo’. In those moments, you are taken over by the urge to swap places in a blink of an eye, & rid your precious little one of any pain.
I love how special my toddler makes me feel, in his time of need. & I’ll forever cherish the moments when I can offer him a tender cuddle, a few words of sympathy, & my magical Mother’s touch.
As always, this ‘Ordinary Moments’ post is linked over with Katie at Mummy Daddy and me makes three.