I’m Guilty of Loving You

guilty-of-loveI do love you. I plead guilty as charged, Your Honour.’

Drag me off to solitary. Take my smartphone away. Bread and water is all I deserve! Can I please have a side order of love though?

Yesterday marked the first day in 77 that I did not post here on WordPress. Nothing really razzle-dazzle about that except for the fact that I intended to blog everyday for a year. I feel as if I have quickly gone back on a promise to myself.

On the upside my family and I had a lovely day. I was ever-present and shared the joy of my gorgeous neice turning 4.

I was still ‘around the place’ yesterday. I read and read and read. I commented when I felt the desire to. But I had this niggling feeling. Was I being the ever-present wallflower that I am in Facebook land-lurking in shadows like a spy in the lives of others? I was feeling the love but not sharing it!

How do I achieve the balance I am searching for?  Another solution danced through my mind over the course of the day as I offered advice to another blogger who had asked for my opinion. Why can’t we take our own advice? Why do we have to hear it from our own mouths or through depressed keys to give voice to our own thoughts for our own sakes?

I’m going to keep my little tidbit to myself for the moment. I might need it while I’m in the hole. I’ll gladly share if I can just nibble away at it and be allowed to join the mainstream population again soon.

You are the key to my handcuffs heart.

Image from: here.


I Pause To Love You

love on pause I love you on pause.

Sometimes I wish there was a pause button for just a moment’s peace. At other times it would be nice to be able to use the remote to stop the world to live in a moment just a teeny bit longer.

Unfortunately that’s not reality nor is it the reality I have been living the past three days.

My life love is on pause. I can’t love you. Well at least not in the way I prefer to.

I have germs. Millions of them I suppose. The up-my-nose-in-more-ways-than-one kind. Please don’t feel a compulsion to break out the tissues. It’s not a Kleenex moment. At least not of the crying kind. I’ve used that many the kids are now building towers with the empty boxes.

I also had to pause my posts. The daily serving of love was nowhere to be seen. Typing would have been near impossible, having to take care of the faucet-like nose. In fact, I got that sick of the incessant running that I resorted to jamming a tissue up each nostril just to take a break from the blowing while trying to do normal daily tasks.

Ok so I’ve managed to avoid the words boogie and snot and also believe that I have succeeded in not sharing this with my family. For the record, the blame lies firmly with ‘almost 6’ who shares all there is on offer at school and kindly brought it home for me. I know I could possibly give it back to him so it’s come down to this:

  • kisses on the tops of their heads have replaced the smackaroos I normally get to share with my fellas
  • hugs are limited to the standing position so my legs have seen a lot of loving lately
  • blowing kisses has become normal practice for the time being even when no-one is going anywhere.

I am existing in my own bacteria filled bubble where there is less chance of letting any bugs out but also zero possibility of any love getting in. I don’t like it one bit and definitely do not want to pause this moment. I’m keen to go back to being the giver of love not the giver of illness.

How do you show your love when the ‘no touching’ rule has been imposed?

Pausing the love just for the moment.

Image from: here.

A Blanket of Love For You

blankieI love that you love your blankie.

What is it about a blanket that gives comfort and makes one feel safe?

For many it doesn’t end in childhood either. The ‘security’ blanket can last far longer than that.

Both of my sons are blankie boys. They’ve both had their favourite since they were old enough to communicate that they’d prefer a certain one.

I don’t think it’s a colour or pattern decision. For my two I think it’s a textural or tactile thing. The feel of the blankie was how they made their choice.

My youngest has dragged his behind him when he gets out of bed as part of his morning ritual for well over two years. Only recently has he stopped running his blanket through thumb and index finger along the satin edging. He’d reach the corner then continue along the next side like he was doing laps of a racetrack. It wasn’t too long ago either that he agreed to relinquish his blanket to the hollows of the washing machine. Prior to that I’d try to sneak it out of his room, in the wash, out on the line and then back on the bed without him noticing. This was rarely successful.

I often tuck in the eldest only to find him cocooned in his blanket with the quilt at the foot of the bed. He still requests the same blanket on his bed throughout the summer and when there is a seemingly unlimited choice of size, colour and textures sitting in the cupboard. These blankets are still worthy though. They get put through thair paces being used to build blanket forts and indoor cubbies. They really get put to the test when the kids are unwell and reinforcements are called upon.

I contemplate what age they might be before the blankie meets his mates at the back of the linen cupboard. The only other alternative is that the beloved blanket starts to fall apart at the seams from being well and truly loved to death. Whatever the case may be, I won’t be pushing for their dear blankets to be making a final curtain call. Until such time I’ll just keep providing the same blankie, after being freshly washed, returning it to its rightful place on my boys’ beds. In the future when the blankie has been retired to the cupboard or met its demise we’ll just have to rely on love to be a virtual blanket.

You may find this kind of normal and a tad on the yawn side. If your child has an attachment to something unusual that you’d care to unveil drop a line or two in the box below.

I’m feeling the love for the soft, clean blankie.

Image from: here.