Robert Munsch's Love You Forever, has been on Ace's bookshelf since before she was born. It was a gift from her baby shower. I read it once long before, in an education class for some purpose I will never remember. Even before motherhood, I was touched by the story.
On New Year's Eve, 2014, I walked into Ace's bedroom to read her a bedtime story. She had picked out Love You Forever for the first time. When I saw it on top of the lilac covers, my step hitched slightly. I took a deep breath and swung into my fake calm mom voice. "You ready for bed? Do you have a book picked out?" Holy crap, I'm not sure I'm ready to read her this story!
On New Year's Eve, 2014, I walked into Ace's bedroom to read her a bedtime story. She had picked out Love You Forever for the first time. When I saw it on top of the lilac covers, my step hitched slightly. I took a deep breath and swung into my fake calm mom voice. "You ready for bed? Do you have a book picked out?" Holy crap, I'm not sure I'm ready to read her this story!
Snuggled into her twin bed, lined with plush princess and ballerina dolls, with Ace's head resting in the crook of my left arm, I plunged into the story. Somewhere between the mother admitting her son drove her crazy (which is fairly early on) and his leaving home, I was fighting tears. Ace noticed the slight raspy change in my voice and looked back at me once. I kept my eyes focused on the book to avoid losing it altogether. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her hesitate for a brief moment. She had to have seen me silently crying, but thankfully turned back to the book as I read on.
It probably would have been a good moment to have an amazing mother-daughter talk, but she didn't ask me any questions, and I couldn't find any words to capture my emotions at the time either. I finished the story, and went through our normal nighttime routine: turning on her ladybug light, offering her a drink of water, putting her book back on the shelf, turning off the big lights in the room, giving her a series of hugs and kisses, and finally exchanging a gradually quieter and quieter, "Night-night, love you," as I tiptoe from her bed and out her door.
It's my favorite part of the day. No matter how much Ace, or her little brother, drive me crazy during the day, no matter how many times I close the bathroom door and cry because I am obviously a horrible mother, no matter how many times I think I can't quite possibly do this another minute or day, at bedtime when I snuggle up with both of them one-on-one and ask them about their day and read a story and kiss and hug them goodnight and watch their tiny faces relax into peaceful sleeping babes, my heart fills with love and joy and I am instantly renewed and reminded that
I will love them forever,
I will like them for always,
As long as I'm living,
My babies they will be.
I'm not sure if I will crawl through windows to secretly snuggle with them at night when they have grown and left home, but I might.
©Erin Croley
It probably would have been a good moment to have an amazing mother-daughter talk, but she didn't ask me any questions, and I couldn't find any words to capture my emotions at the time either. I finished the story, and went through our normal nighttime routine: turning on her ladybug light, offering her a drink of water, putting her book back on the shelf, turning off the big lights in the room, giving her a series of hugs and kisses, and finally exchanging a gradually quieter and quieter, "Night-night, love you," as I tiptoe from her bed and out her door.
It's my favorite part of the day. No matter how much Ace, or her little brother, drive me crazy during the day, no matter how many times I close the bathroom door and cry because I am obviously a horrible mother, no matter how many times I think I can't quite possibly do this another minute or day, at bedtime when I snuggle up with both of them one-on-one and ask them about their day and read a story and kiss and hug them goodnight and watch their tiny faces relax into peaceful sleeping babes, my heart fills with love and joy and I am instantly renewed and reminded that
I will love them forever,
I will like them for always,
As long as I'm living,
My babies they will be.
I'm not sure if I will crawl through windows to secretly snuggle with them at night when they have grown and left home, but I might.
©Erin Croley
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