sometimes it’s just too much.

yesterday javin crawled all of himself into my lap, where i was sitting at the old writing table with only the dim light of the lamp.  this is how i like to write (or facebook or email;  who are we kidding.) in the mornings.  dim light makes me feel peaceful, especially from a lamp in the corner & not a fixture on the ceiling.  & the quiet — oh, the glorious quiet! — in the morning, before the tribe alights & we’re off & running.  or crying.

this was rare, this javin-up-early.  he is my night owl.  he is my crawl-out-of-bed-because-they-won’t-stop-hollering-from-the-kitchen kid.  i usually have to pry that child out of bed with my egg spatula.  & then when he finally makes it to the table, he plops his head down audibly, for effect.  (he’s also a bit dramatic.)  it takes him ages to decide what he wants to eat, let alone to eat it.  it’s painful sometimes, but that’s JUST. WHO. HE. IS.  & that’s okay.  (usually.)

but this morning, he crawled into my lap, somehow contracting enough to pile his whole 9-year-old-and-strong big boy self so that he fit.  i had the presence of mind to turn away from the computer & snuggle him, put my arms around him & just take him all in.  smelling his hair that is still very much little-kid.  enjoying the warmth of him, that he didn’t need to race on to assemble transformers or ask if he could look up hot rod on amazon.  no, we both just sat there, staying in that moment.

 and then i started to cry.  because sometimes this is just too much.

being mom to him, to all of them, is something else.  otherworldly.  before i had javin, before i became a mom, i never saw this coming.  this all-consuming, fierce, knock-me-down love that turns me on my head.  & i have no doubt that bringing leif home, having a baby in my arms again, & having all these freaking hormones stirring in my body contribute to the flood.  to the overwhelm.  to the gushing-up love.

& i certainly never planned on shedding tears about javin, about any & all of them, getting older.  he’s nine.  that’s halfway to adulthood.  adulthood.  criminy.  that’s certainly too much.  when did this happen, & why can’t i dig my heals in hard enough?

but those tears?  i’m glad they come.  & even though it feels like too much, i can get used to too much.  i’ll sit in the middle of too much for as long as i can.  i certainly want to.

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