When I was a little girl, my mommy was the only person who could comfort me when I was in pain. At 6 years old, I learned how to ride my bike. We had a gravel driveway and, like kids do, I fell off at some point. My knee was so scraped up, little pebbles were stuck to my skin. Of course, this felt like the worst pain of my life (until that point), so I cried and screamed for my mom. She walked to me, carried me inside, and cleaned me up. Once she put a bandage on my knee, she kissed it and chased me back outside.
From birth, the gentle touch of our mothers' hands have been the source of serenity and healing. Even as a grown-up, I have caved at times and begged for my mommy. While my friends and family care for me and provide comfort when I need it, there is no substitute for the warmth of the woman who tolerated me into adulthood. And now - something amazing has happened. I'm a mother myself. And my hands - my hugs - my body - are the safest place for my own children.
There are a lot of things no one can prepare your for when you are expecting your first child. My favorite has been the infusion of magic into all the small things I do for my children. In some way, I feel like I've been anointed with a special type of power. My whispers can banish monsters from under the bed. My lips can heal the hurtiest of hurts. My fingers can wipe away the crocodiliest of tears. Do fathers ever feel this way? Or is this something that only moms get to share?
My toddler - well, he's a toddler. Sometimes he's a terrorist and sometimes he's the sweetest little boy that ever was. When he skins his knee, or bumps his head, it's my pleasure to plant a tiny peck in just the right place. Sometimes I'll even tickle him into laughter, and he'll run off - forgetting that the bump ever happened.
I wish I could kiss away all the bumps life will bring his way.
Yes, this is a mystical and awe-inspiring power. I've been imbued with the essence of motherly love from all the generations of strong mothers past. Just like I beg for my mom less and less often, Shep will outgrow his need for me to be the one healing his hurts. He'll learn to get up, brush himself off, and keep moving forward. Eventually my kisses will no longer be his magical healing balm. This day is admittedly years from now, but just the thought breaks my heart. I'd give anything to protect my children from the pain this world can wreak on good, decent, loving people. If only a kiss could keep them safe - could give them health and happiness. I'd cover them in kisses from the crown on their heads to the tips of their toes. Maybe we could make the magical mama kisses last longer, or mean more. Maybe if we just believe - we could really make it all better. I know it's wishful thinking - but sometimes, that's the only thinking we can cling to.
Have you ever seen your child get hurt and wish you could make it better? Do they run to your comfort and magic mama kisses? Shoot me a picture of your planting a magic mama kiss on your little one - @pi3sugarpi3.