Epiphany

The other day I realized something.

I realized my daughters adore me. They like me so much they want to be near me as much as they can. They don’t care what I’m doing, be it laundry, cooking, or hell, even pooping, they want to be with me while I do it.

And yes, I’ve known this for the past nine years but it hit me that there must be something special about me if these two precious girls, these amazing people like me so much.

When I rolled out of bed on Sunday and joined my family downstairs, Alyssa saw me first and so she and I quietly settled into the couch while Olivia, oblivious to my presence, remained on the floor by the television. When she heard my voice, though, she leapt to her feet and threw her little body at me, her grin of welcome and joy at the sight of me something to behold.

Olivia snuggled against my right side while Alyssa remained glued to my left. I smiled down and Olivia and said, “I’m done sleeping for today.”

She grinned and said, “Me too!” I kissed her head and we pulled a blanket over the three of us, just to hold in the warmth of our bodies.

And that’s when it hit me. Yes, they love me because, duh, I’m the mama and kids love their moms. But they also like me. They want to be near me, even when I’m less than pleasant to be around.

They crave my presence, my attention. When I get to my mom’s each evening after work the girls clamor for my attention, trying to out-talk the other, trying to be the first one I hold on my lap while they tell me about their day.

I must be doing something right.

Yet, I get so grouchy by the end of the day. I’m so tired and so ready for everyone to go to sleep so I can have fifteen minutes to read before my eyes slam shut. And I’m not always nice to these amazing little girls who are so sweet, so precious, so adoring.

I go to sleep most nights praying that I haven’t done irreparable damage to these girls in my snarky, grouchy moments when I’m at my wits end with all that needs to be done.

I pray that they know how much I love them, how much they mean to me even when I’m at my very worst, which seems to be so often these days.

And then I take a breath and wonder…if they love me so, so much, if they want to be near me so desperately, there must be something about me, something special, something worthy of their love. I stepped back this weekend and realized that I need to learn to like myself half as much as my daughters like me. I need to do it for them, I need to do it for me.

There MUST be something in there, something beyond this worn out shell that seems to run on empty so much of the time, that snaps at a minor request because I can’t give one more thing.

Tonight will be better. Tonight, I’ll be patient, I’ll be loving and if I feel my patience thinning, I’ll leave the room for a minute, knowing that less than half a minute after I leave, four little feet will be pitter pattering after me. And I’ll remind myself that they aren’t after me to bother me. They’re coming because I’m special and they love me and they just want to be near me.

Now…to figure out how to want to be near myself.