Ma Ma

Do you ever stop to think what it means to be someone's mother?

Chris was on travel for a few nights last week. I can't complain because it rarely ever happens. But I can complain because I just don't sleep as well when he's gone. You know?

At 2 am, I was startled awake by a dream. I lay there, trying to waltz back to dreamland, when I heard E cry out for a split second. Maybe we were having the same dream. "MAMA!" she called out with that sleepy, instinctual urgency midnight wakings breed. Then she fell back asleep.

'Mama'. The word shot straight from her crib to my heart. I lay there, reveling in the feeling it brought. I love that. I love that I am the name she calls out in the middle of a dream. And a million other times during the day. The one whose kisses magically heal her owies. The one whose presence is the answer in so many ways. The one whose arms have held, rocked, fed and loved her since the day she was born.

Which is not to say that it can’t be exhausting and frustrating to be needed so much, so often. But when I see straight to the heart of it, it seems like really such an honor.

It is a heady thing to be someone's mama. So grand yet so intimate.

And I love it so very much.

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This is the face she makes when you tell her to smile. And, first pigtails!!!



Singing in the Car:




**I do, of course, recognize that I am not the only *one* who she reaches for, needs and loves. I have not forgotten dad, grandmas and grandpas. But this post is just about my corner of all that! ;)