by Cathy
I have the sweetest, most thoughtful girls on the planet. They are both kind, respectful and generous.
Last night, my six-year old, Ari, wanted to surprise my husband and I with what she called a "romantic dinner". The thought popped into her head two nights ago while I was tucking her into bed - although I have no idea what prompted that thought. Either way, she had it stuck in her head and insisted on doing it, and after some coaxing and savvy explaining, I got her to hold off until last night. And boy, did she ever remember.
She got home from school, ate, did her homework, rushed off to her bedroom, shut the door and began her planning preparations for our "date night in". She staked her claim in the living room and posted some signs (backed up by verbal warnings) that we should not, under any circumstance, enter or peek into that living room until she invited us in. After what seemed like hours of scurrying to and fro, sliding around some chairs, requesting step stools, carrying bins, writing out menus, digging up pink aprons and covering the coffee table in a fuzzy, teddy bear blanket/tablecloth, we were summoned to be seated.
My husband and I sat across from each other, literally on the edges of our seats due to fluffy couch pillows placed lovingly against the dining room chair seatbacks for comfort. No matter that our knees were crouched up against the sharp edges of the coffee table - we were on a romantic date and nothing was going to spoil this fun. Pretend tea was served to us in Ari's plastic, princess Disney tea set as we perused our hand-written menus, courtesy of Ari's Cafaye.
My menu had Brecfist and Dusrte as such:
wofols
eggs
meteu (meat)
spgedey
cack
SunDay
ice screme
cokese
Joe's had Lunch and Dinnr as such:
eggs
Hot Dogs
chiginugit
friyse
spgedye
brede
meteu
salide
Ari dutifully stood guard, decked up in an adult-sized pink apron which was tied all the way up under her underarms and mentally took note of our orders. She set up some tunes on a keyboard and for full effect, we unsealed the plastic film from around our fireplace for the first time since they were toddlers and fired that baby up. Ari even entertained us with a puppet show from behind our couch called "The Frog Who Won't Leave the Puppy Alone," complete with intermissions where she allowed us our "privaseat" and "funny talk".
Towards the end of our hot date, I asked if I could personally thank the owner of Ari's Cafaye and she shyly said, "That's me!" So I grabbed her, tickled her and plopped her on my lap, whereupon I smothered her with millions of thankful mommy hugs and kisses. Worried as to her father's potential jealousy, she looked over her shoulder mid-tickle and gestured to him that she will come to him next.
Later that night, once we had tucked both girls into bed, I cleaned up the living room and collected the menus and signs posted outside the living room. Then my eye caught a welcome sign that I missed on my way in:
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| The sentiment; the spelling; the innocence. I've come undone. |
And that, my dear friends, is when I lost it. I don't even know where all of this emotion was coming from and was baffled that all it took was to read this sign, the catalyst in my mommy meltdown. I began sobbing - the type of sobbing where your body is racked with heaving sighs and multiple attempts at catching your breath. I was drowning in tears and my face was so contorted with wails that I now know why they call it the "ugly cry". And it just kept coming. My eyes became puffy, my nose filled up with snot and I was wailing like a baby.
My husband shuffles into our bedroom half-asleep. "Are you okay? What's wrong?!"
And there I stood, hand wrist-deep in a tissue box, face beet-red, puffy and smeared in makeup-infused tears, and replied, "My babies are growing up!!!!"
"Of course they're growing up," he says, totally unhelpful and setting himself up to be punched by his lunatic wife/mother of his kids.
"Pretty soon she's gonna grow up and figure out how to spell and we'll be done with this phase of our kids! Look!" I said, shoving the sign under his nose. "It's the cutest most innocent thing and that is going to come to an end. SOOOONNN!!" I fell apart again.
What was wrong with me?!?! Why was this hitting me so hard? It's not like I haven't seen this writing before; I must have looked insane.
"Yes, but when they do, we'll still get written letters, just of a different kind," he tried hard to reassure me.
"But I like these!!" I cried back, slamming her hand-written note down on the bed.
After a long pause filled with lots of sniffing, nose-blowing and heaved sighs, I turned back to Joe.
"Just wait. You'll experience this too. For me, it was this letter. For you, it will be something else very seemingly insignificant yet monumental in some way and it will hit you out of nowhere. Just wait," I taunted. "You'll see."
And with that, I drifted off to sleep with sweet thoughts of my sweet girls in sweet, unforgettable moments that I hold onto with the tenacity that only a mother could take in, hold dear and never let go of.
