Rainy Day Snuggles

My friend Becky has a post up about looking at a picture of her children from five years ago, and not being able to exactly remember how it felt to be in the ordinary moments with them then.  I'm sitting here with Seamus, snuggled up on the couch watching the rain pour down outside and watching Cars, and Maggie is napping in her swing, and I'm feeling a little bit teary after reading that post -- and as I looked over at Maggie, I was thinking that it's hard for me to remember exactly what Seamus was like at her age.  I know he was similar to her in many ways, but different in many ways, and I can remember some of that but what I mainly can't remember is exactly how it felt to be his mom, then.  I know it felt more new, and overwhelming, and scary than it feels to be his and Maggie's mom, now.  And I know that every day felt long and exhausting and like I was busy every single moment taking care of the baby -- and now, sometimes my parents or Patrick will take Seamus out for the whole morning and all I have to do is take care of the baby, and I'm all, am I missing something? Because this feels so easy, just having one baby to care for.

And then I was also thinking that sometimes the kids themselves do something to help solidify a moment, a memory, that I can preserve and think of later.  Since Maggie has been born, I have been consciously and unconsciously giving Shay some extra snuggles when I can, especially right after I see a little bit of jealousy in his face or in his behavior while I'm nursing or tending to the baby. I get him on my lap or in my arms somehow in the midst of our hide-and-go-seek game, or at the table where the train tracks are set up, and get in as many kisses as I can before he starts to protest.  And I don't think I really focused on the snuggles in a specific way, until the other day he reached up his arms for a hug, and as I hugged him, he nuzzled into my shoulder, wrapped his arms around my neck, patted my back, and sighed, "Oh, mama."  And I realized that he was snuggling me in exactly the same way that I snuggle him, except that I sigh, "Oh, Shay-Shay."  And I think that moment I will remember, even if I forget exactly how it feels to be Seamus and Maggie's mom in these early days, or how Seamus's little two-and-one-quarter year old body feels in my arms today.