My 12 year old walks into our bedroom at 9:18 pm,
shoulders slumped eyes red from crying.
He doesn’t say a word . . . just crawls into bed, gets close enough so I can put my arm around him, but keeps his face buried in the covers.
All I could think about was my alarm going off at 5 am the next morning.
I am not going to get enough sleep.
6 am spin class is gonna suck.
I will be exhausted all day.
I won’t cross off my entire “to do” list.
Blah blah blah.
Then I smell him.
Underneath that sticky and unwashed skin {a tween, not so keen on daily showers}
I get a whiff of his baby smell. Just a very faint whiff.
But it’s enough to bring me right to the present moment.
Right where I am supposed to be, for myself . . .
and for him.
I exhale.
I smell him again.
I kiss the back of his neck.
I squeeze him a bit tighter.
My shoulders relax.
His shoulders relax.
His breathing slows down.
And we both just “be.”
10 minutes later he decides to go to sleep, and heads to his own bed.
The only words spoken are “Good night, I love you.”
And he’s gone . . . 9:28 pm.
Still time to get 7 1/2 hours sleep.
My 14 year old is in the kitchen studying for a geometry test.
I text him: “Goodnight, I love you, don’t stay up too late!”
He texts back: “I’ll be right up.”
I think to myself: “So sweet, he wants to say goodnight in person.”
But he has other plans . . .
He walks into our bedroom at 9:31 pm.
I have turned off the light, but he easily finds my side of the bed and collapses next to me, arm flung across my chest.
It’s dark, and his face is turned away . . . this feels safe to him, so he breaks down.
“I always feel so busy.”
“School is boring.”
“I am stressed out about my geometry test.”
“School is hard.”
“Life sucks sometimes.”
I don’t move, I don’t talk, I don’t try to fix it.
I just “be.”
I feel the weight of his arm.
I feel the softness of his flannel shirt.
I feel my breathing slow down.
I feel his breathing slow down.
His arm relaxes.
His head settles into the pillow.
We just stay there in the present moment, together.
I am right where I am supposed to be, for myself . . .
and for him.
He gets up to say goodnight and finish his homework.
9:40 pm.
I didn’t “fix” a thing for either of my boys . . . but that’s ok.
Staying in the present moment and just “being” together . . . is all we needed.
And the next day . . . we all kick butt!!
Exhale . . . and just “be.”
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