Magnetic Personality

No one can deny that it feels good to be wanted. To be loved. To have people care about you, pay attention to you, want to be around you. We'd love to walk into a room and have a group of people shout our name, a la NORM on Cheers. But, I'm here to report that there it is possible to experience too much of a good thing. Too much wanting. Too much attention, especially too much physical attention.

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Some of you faithful readers will remember when I posted about how my love language has changed after having children. Especially having a newborn who was a lousy nurser and a toddler who viewed his mother and sister as his own jungle gym, I no longer craved personal touch--what I really wanted was personal SPACE. Although we're in a different stage--no, I'm not nursing a 18 month old, thank you--I still notice that several times a day I feel like the children's personal bounce house.

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You see, the Monkey and the Birdie have this innate radar system that immediately alerts them when I try to focus on something other than their every whim and desire. If I forget myself for a moment and try to accomplish a task whilst SITTING down, such as emailing, calling the insurance company or folding laundry, I unknowingly send out an invitation for Carson to see if he can balance on my head and for Sydney to see if she is strong enough to pry my legs off of the seat whilst alerting the neighbors to my dastardly ways. AND destroying the neat piles of clean, folded laundry.

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A particularly delightful scenario occurs when my attention is needed on the floor. For example, sweeping crumbs into the dust pan, watering the Christmas tree, or retrieving something from under the bed. I long ago informed my husband that if I was kneeling or bending over, it was usually because I was attending to some task at hand, and I was not doing it as an beckoning for him to playfully slap my behind. In the same way, I have informed the children that these lower altitude tasks are not my way of making my entire body more accessible for them to crawl and wrestle with me and turn me into a play-horsie. However, their young minds do not yet read the warning looks and tone in my voice as well as their father, and they continue to treat me like some grocery store lobby ride--and I don't even get a quarter.

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The most ironic part of this whole situation is that it is such a 2 way street. There is still a huge part of me that wants to hold them, cuddle them, hug and kiss them frequently. There is nothing that calms me like the feel of one of my babies' (yes, they're still my babies) faces pressed against mine. And when I'm wanting them to let me do that? They usually run away and are suddenly and magically able to be self-entertaining.

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But when the magnetic energy is aligned, when both me and one of my children is needing some affection, there is nothing that feeds my soul more than having them with me, next to me, in my lap, arms around my neck. I feel like the center of the universe--and I like it.