December 6, 2003

• I Love My Kids

  
  

  Okay, I know that I've spent days in a row telling you about how rough it's been around here.  It's still not easy.  I'm putting up the Christmas tree today, and my kids feel so bad they are just lying in the floor watching.  Michael seems to be over his nausea - but Tucker has it now.  Both of them continue to run high fevers.  I know that they are going to recover and we'll all be all right, but there is nothing like having your child sick to strike fear in the heart of a Momi.  I'll tell you, I've been on my knees in thankfulness this week that I so rarely have to even wonder about my kids' health. 

  
  

  I know that I'll forget the way I felt in the middle of the night holding my Baby while he coughed and shook.  There will come a day when I throw up my hands and say, "I WISH you could   just  -  be  -  still ..."  but for now, I'd give anything to see him bouncing into trouble again, because stillness is terrifyingly wrong for Tucker.

  
  

  We've been reading books.  We have our special favorites.  Ever since my friend Mary introduced us to Tacky the Penguin, he's been inspiring giggles and admiration (he's an odd bird, but a nice one to have around.)  We also like Click Clack Moo, Cows that Type.  It does my heart good to know that I'm sneaking in lessons on collective bargaining as a problem-solving technique while my kids are laughing over the sight of the cows with their electric blankets.   Tucker likes Dr. Seuss' The King, The Mice, and The Cheese best of all.  But when he's sick, different books come off the shelf. 

  
  

  One that we have been reading for years, but which rarely gets requested anymore is called I Love You the Purplest.  In the past three days, I know I've read this book at least 20 times.  I'm going to share the ending for you.

  
  

  ... When the fishing and the baths
  and the stories were done,
  Mama tucked the brothers into bed.
       Julian slept in the top bunk
  and she reached up to kiss him goodnight.
       "Mama, " whispered Julian,
  his hands forming a tunnel around her ear.
  "Who do you love best?"

  
  

  

  
  

  Mama thought for a minute, and then she
  whispered, "Why Julian, I love you the bluest!
  I love you the color of a dragon fly
  at the tip of its wing.
  I love you the color of a cave
  in its deepest, hidden part
  where grizzly bears and bats curl up until night.
  The mist of a mountain.
  The splash of a waterfall.
  The hush of a whisper."

  
  

  The breath in Julian's chest grew and grew
  and grew until hs couldn't hold it any longer.
  Then it came out in a long velvety sigh.

  
  

  

  
  

  Mama crouched low to the bunk where Max slept.
  Max wriggled his finger for Mama to come close.
  He whispered, "Mama, who do you love best?"

  
  

  

  
  

  "Why Max, i love you the reddest!
  I love you the color of the sky
  before it blazes into night.
  I love you the color of a leopard's eyes
  when it prowls through the jungle,
  and the color of a campfire at the edge of the flame.
  A wide open hug.  The swirl of a magic cape.
  The thunder of a shout."

  
  

  The smile on Max's face grew and grew
  until his cheeks couldn't hold it in.
  Then it came out in a big, thundery laugh.

  
  

  

  
  

  Later in teh evening
  the brothers and their Mama slept;
  oen in the top bunk,
  glowing like the evening moon,
  one in the bottom bunk,
  shimmering like the evening sun,
  and Mama in the big bed
  dreaming of the boys she loved best.

  
  

  Before my children were born, I heard people say that there was no such thing as loving one more or less than the other.  That I would love them equally but in different ways.  I didn't really believe them.  I'd always had some friends I prefer to others, and I'd always assumed that all love was about figuring out who you loved the best.  I mean if you couldn't say "I love you BEST" why ever consider marriage with anyone?  (I was young and foolish.)

  
  

  What I've come to understand through loving my children is that I when I love, I truly don't rank the people I love in terms of more or less.  I love each person the best, when I love THEM as they are.  I can't think of any better metaphor than that offered by Barbara Joosse in the book I've quoted above.  At different times and for different reasons, I prefer all the colors.  Purple, green, brown, gold, red, blue, yellow, not to mention cerulean, aquamarine, fuschia, and bronze ... every color enriches my world.  Just as every person I love enriches my life.  And because of the loves of my life - I am the richest person I know.

  • 4:09 pm
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