I have been home with a sick child for close to three days. It is amazing how the first thing a child wants when they are sick is their mother.
I don't talk much about my children here. To me they are a gift so precious that to talk of them is to brag. I see myself in them at different ages. I see the person I am today. I wonder about the person I could have become if my childhood would have been different.
One child is precocious and gifted. One child is emotional and sweet. The last child is a little athlete. It is hard to think of any of them struggling as I did as an adult. I want to lock them in a room and take care of them forever.
Their new awareness surrounds my weight. They enjoy asking me about my fatness. Why are you fat? Why do you have a big tummy? I could just brush it off but I feel like I need to be honest with them. I ate too much junk food. I want to be honest with them so they make good choices.
On the other hand, my daughter asked me today what happens when two butterflies spend time close to each other. Ejole! Not ready to answer those questions. When is honesty too much? When do I tell them about my addiction? It is an interesting question. For now, I feel it topic better discussed in whispers. Sort of like with the butterflies
My lullaby for my children is "In dreams" by Roy Orbison. I am the candy colored clown they call the sandman. Go to sleep. Everything is alright.