Love You Mama
This is what my newly-minted two-hands old daughter says to me every time she jumps out of the van at school, leaves the house to play next door, or just goes upstairs without me. She hugs me, or kisses me on the cheek if I'm baking or cooking or working at the computer and she doesn't want to disturb me. Then she calls out "Love you, mama" as she skips away. Every time.
"Love you too, babe/sweetie" is usually what I say. Once when she said "Love you, Daddy" as she was going upstairs, he didn't respond quickly enough because he was reading the paper, and when she pressed him he called out distractedly, "See ya", and after soundly mocking and scolding him she now demands the same response from him every time. But I just say "Love you too", or, occasionally, "Love you more", if I have the time and energy for a protracted "nuh-uh, I love YOU more" battle, which we have now enshrined in this bracelet (which I gave to her):
and this mug (which she made for me):
(Isn't it cute how we've given material form to our competitive affection? Now sometimes we just yell "It's on the bracelet, chump!" or "It's on the mug, loser!" at each other in a heartwarming shorthand.)
Anyway. It adds up to several I love you mamas a day, sometimes a dozen or more. And sometimes I muse about whether we say it too much. I think about people I've heard saying it makes them nauseous how some families can't stop drivelling on about how much they love each other. I wonder if there's a chance that we're chafing the words smooth, wearing off their meaning.
Then I think of the years that are coming. She's two hands now. Double digits. Tough days could be coming. Days when she doesn't see things the way I do, when she rails at me and flails against me in the course of forging her own path. Unkind words could fly between us.
When I think ahead to these days, I imagine that the all the I love yous we trade now are being laid against our bodies as a kind of armour. When the railing and flailing and unkind words start flying, maybe we'll both have that shield, forged from so many loving words, as protection against lasting damage.
It's worth a shot, anyway.
"Love you too, babe/sweetie" is usually what I say. Once when she said "Love you, Daddy" as she was going upstairs, he didn't respond quickly enough because he was reading the paper, and when she pressed him he called out distractedly, "See ya", and after soundly mocking and scolding him she now demands the same response from him every time. But I just say "Love you too", or, occasionally, "Love you more", if I have the time and energy for a protracted "nuh-uh, I love YOU more" battle, which we have now enshrined in this bracelet (which I gave to her):
and this mug (which she made for me):
Anyway. It adds up to several I love you mamas a day, sometimes a dozen or more. And sometimes I muse about whether we say it too much. I think about people I've heard saying it makes them nauseous how some families can't stop drivelling on about how much they love each other. I wonder if there's a chance that we're chafing the words smooth, wearing off their meaning.
Then I think of the years that are coming. She's two hands now. Double digits. Tough days could be coming. Days when she doesn't see things the way I do, when she rails at me and flails against me in the course of forging her own path. Unkind words could fly between us.
When I think ahead to these days, I imagine that the all the I love yous we trade now are being laid against our bodies as a kind of armour. When the railing and flailing and unkind words start flying, maybe we'll both have that shield, forged from so many loving words, as protection against lasting damage.
It's worth a shot, anyway.
Comments
My almost-12 still calls me Mommy about half the time but instead of morphing into Mom, which I would have considering the natural order of things, when he doesn't say Mommy he calls me by my first name, which I Do Not Like, but it doesn't seem fair to object because he's always called his other mother by her first name.
But a charm bracelet! A mug! You guys win at being adorable.
I think this is one of your best posts, Allison. Just beautiful.
Gal Smiley has the same jammies as Eve! She would LIVE in those things if I would let her. She often comes home from school and puts them on right away. I predict someday she'll be leading the fashion movement to bring back jumpsuits for everyday wear.
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The words, "I love you" are said plenty of times in this household, but if we had bracelets and mugs as great as the ones in your post, you can bet we'd also be yelling "It's on the bracelet, chump!" or "It's on the mug, loser!" at each other, 'cause that's just awesome.