“Can’t. Makin gravy.”
“Can’t. Foldin laundry.”
“Can’t. Paint all over me.”
“Can’t. Gotta pee.”
Things I say to my children while they follow me around for hugs.
Despite what my family says about me bein an ice queen or whatever, I am actually an affectionate person. I always give hugs and kisses morning and night and hello and goodbye. To EVERYONE, I promise. I’m an excellent hugger. I give real hugs. I don’t side hug or air hug or polite hug, when I hug people, they feel the love. Why, just the other day, I ran into an old classmate, and he commented that I hug like all the women in Italy. So lemme tell ya, I’m plenty affectionate, despite what they say.
I still hold my kids pretty much every single night. Yes, it does feel like they’re going to crack my femur and no, I can’t do it too long.
Still, while we watch tv, they cuddle up to us, and they get snuggles and petting. I sometimes think the boy comes over for a back scratch.
I pet them while we wait. I pet them at other people’s homes. I swear, my people are well affectionated.
But they’re their father’s children when it comes to hugs. Good gawd, these people with their hugs. I swear to you, I must hug them every time we pass in the house. If I can’t, because doin stuff, they DO get butt-hurt about it and pout. They will stand around until I’m done with whatever, and wait for the hugs.
They’ll move a cat or dog to get at me. They’ll remove the laptop, a book, the phone, a cup of coffee. These people are persistent!
The Mister thinks a good hug can fix any problem. Well, my problems. It’s not that the hugs hurt, but sometimes, while he hugs angry me, I fantasize about being a big green Hulk version of myself throwing him through the window. I think, I CAN’T FIX THE PROBLEM WHILE WE’RE HUGGING. YOU’RE WASTIN MY TIME! but I just say, “I love you too.”
Like most mothers, especially mothers of many, I have been through a time when I felt like people touched me too much. Hold the people, rock the people, snuggle the people, carry the people, grow more people inside me, hold the people, nurse the people, cuddle the people, rock the people, people climbin all over me, all fuckin day and night. And toddlers are like pets about the bathroom. Yes, you have to hold them while you go, or they will cry in the hallway. I recall a day Sissy cried because I wanted to take a shower and not talk to her during. Got to a point where at the end of the night, I’d be like, “We can have the sex, but just the sex. Don’t touch me, I swear to God, my skin burns from touching.”
There is so too much of a good thing.
It’s difficult to concentrate on a task with people holding onto your hand, or your leg, or whatever, and it’s just not safe to nuzzle your wife’s neck while she uses a chop knife. Oh sure, once a Marine always a Marine and nothin bad will happen to you, but your wife may well lose a finger!
“Can’t. Fryin eggs. HOT GREASE!”
While I’ve been typing this, Moo has been trying to hold my left hand off and on the entire time. She says I can type with one hand.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday SoCS ‘concentration’ is brought to you by LindaGHill