401.5 days of loving more!
Well, crap, I lost one of my son’s loveys AGAIN. You would think I would have learned the first time…and the second time…and the third time…and the fourth time that no matter what “friends” stay in beds and cribs all day. But clearly, based on my digging through trash, and drawers, and cabinets and taking apart toys and furniture (again), I haven’t learned my lesson. UGH. Why am I writing? I smell! I need to take a shower, then ice my knees from crawling all over the floor all night, and then ice my finger that I dropped not one, but two dresser drawers on as I hastily pulled them out in search of Mr. Bunny.
But, oh, oh the things we do for lost loveys!
And, oh, oh the agonizing heartfelt pain of losing a lovey.
Why is that by the way? Yesterday when Mr. Bunny was missing, my 19 month old didn’t care. He had his back up one so all was well with the world and yet I spent at least one hour looking for the lost lovey. One hour that I could have spent taking advantage of having Grandma here to help and actually checked off a few things on the to-do list. But no, I insisted on looking for Mr. Bunny. I just HAD to find him. Why?? Why am I more attached to my kid’s loveys than they are? Seriously?!
While they have cried over lost friends (loveys) in the past, eventually they move on and choose another friend as a best friend to snuggle with at night whereas I continue to dwell on how I lost track of such a sentimental friend; how I failed my kiddo. I know, sounds a bit extreme, but it just feels so awful because losing a lovey isn’t just losing a stuffed animal, it’s losing something so much more, it’s losing something that I would never, ever want to lose, that I promised myself I would never ever lose because of it’s importance…to my son and to me.
My son’s lovey is an extension of me when I am not there. It’s a guaranteed source of comfort for him when everything around him is falling apart. It’s a friend to hold in the emergency room when mommy has to use two hands to help keep the breathing mask on. It’s a friend to snuggle when I am out of the house and he misses me. And well, my son’s “lovey” isn’t just my son’s security item; I’m realizing that as I write this that it is also mine! Knowing that when all my efforts to soothe my son’s tears don’t work, that Mr. Bunny can magically make them stop, well, that gives me security. Knowing that my son has a friend that is soft and gentle and cuddly, a friend that can’t hurt him, that gives me security. And yes, knowing that my son still needs and wants a lovie gives me security that he is still indeed a child, that my baby isn’t all entirely grown up…yet.
Yes, I think I am most devastated about Mr. Bunny missing because I am just not ready to lose a symbol of my last son’s childhood. I know he and all my boys will grow up, but oh, even though these days can be hard and long, I am in no rush for my boys to grow up. And even though it was a big pain to have spent hours today looking for Mr. Bunny, I am glad that there are still loveys in my house to be lost and hopefully found! Childhood goes by faster than all the experienced moms told me and I am just so not ready to lose Mr. Bunny, the first lovey #4 ever received and one of the last threads to having a “young” child in the house.
My son’s lovey is something ever so special to both of us, something that I always want him to have when he needs, and let’s face it, it is something I always want to have around, whether in his crib, his hands, or in his memory box, because it reminds me so very much of his precious infancy, of his childhood. Mr. Bunny simply is NOT allowed to be lost. I will put him away in a safe place when my son and I are both ready to do so (okay, when I am ready to do so.) But tonight is not the night. Even though I conceded earlier tonight with a very heavy heart that Mr. Bunny was indeed lost, I will look again once more tomorrow. I am not just holding on tight to any symbol of the precious moments in my son’s childhood, but I am also holding on tight to the hope that I will find him!
I wrote the above after I called off the search party. Taking a break from looking cleared my mind. When I closed the computer to go to sleep, I had a new idea pop into my head. It donned on me that #4 has been on his tippy toes more and more lately, that he has been reaching his little fingers higher and higher, that he has been bound and determined to get into drawers that he can’t reach. I ran to the one room full of drawers galore and like a child on Christmas morning and tore open the drawers with excitement and anticipation. Voila! Mr. Bunny wasn’t in the bottom two drawers but in the 3rd drawer…the drawer I thought he couldn’t reach! I grabbed Mr. Bunny and ran to my mother…
“See! See! I knew it! I knew he was in the house!”
I jumped up and down like a child. I was as happy as my son probably was when he finally got that difficult drawer open.
Which got me thinking.
When something really matters to the heart, remain patient, persevere and get on your tippy toes to reach higher. My son was determined to open that higher drawer. He didn’t quit when he couldn’t, when it got hard. His mind was on it and he kept at it. I have no doubt that he pushed himself up on those tippy toes, stretched his chubby little fingers out and then shoved Mr. Bunny in with all his might. I had this same attitude when I started The Orange Rhino Challenge but have sometimes lost my determination. I am going to embrace and remember this attitude whenever I want to quit. If #4 had quit, he wouldn’t have opened that drawer he couldn’t reach. Yes, then I wouldn’t have heartbreak yesterday but I also wouldn’t have been reminded to keep pushing myself when the going gets tough. If my 19-month-old son can push himself to reach higher, so can I.