About two months ago, my kids both got bad colds. It was pretty nasty, actually. I considered taking out stock in a tissue company. Every time I tried to sit or accomplish any kind of task, I had to stop to wipe a nose, urgently. I jokingly started calling my kids “goobers” for the nasty nose effect of the cold. It kept the mood light. “Goobers” transitioned to “Goobs” and finally landed as “Goobie”. Now, despite the disgusting beginnings, I call my kids “goobie” as a term of affection and they love it. I even sing it to them when I want to be extra goofy. Think of the “Scooby Doo” theme song and sing:
“Goobie, Goobie, Goo… I love you! “
Fun, huh? I have to be careful not to do it too often when they are on elevated surfaces. They laugh so hard I’m afraid they will fall and hurt themselves. J
Then my daughter called my son “goobie” one day, as she reached out and gently tickled his arm, grinning sweetly at him. He beamed back at her, their eyes locking in happiness. My heart, previously containing some solid substance, turned to mush and melted away. They had figured it out. Calling someone “Goobie” is comparable to saying “I love you”.
Last week, when I was tucking my daughter into bed, I said. “I love you Goobie, Good night”. She stopped wiggling, turned her head to me. She looked me directly in the eyes with a gorgeous, confident smile and stated (so clearly) “I love you Mommy Goobie”.
How is the heart supposed to withstand such statements? I still get all teary when I think about it.
We have video monitors over the kids’ cribs and sometimes I take a few minutes and just watch them. While they are sleeping is a lot less interesting than when they are awake. I enjoy watching what they choose to do with their quiet, alone time, when they think they aren’t being watched. I watch them hug, kiss and talk to their “friends” in the crib. (And I LOVE that they always give their little friends the most wonderful hugs. If those bears and dolls had feelings, they would be in love.) I watch them sing ABC and count their toes and fingers. I listen to them sing their favorite songs. Both my kids now fall asleep in a body position that makes them look so much like little kids, so NOT like babies. I want to cry. Where did the time go?
It’s really ironic, the double standard between our hearts and our minds. We want smart kids, but we don’t want to deal with the fallout from when they outsmart us by climbing out of cribs and unlocking “child-proof” gates. We want them to learn how to be more mature, but we don’t want them to grow up. We want them to learn independence, but we never want them to leave us. When it comes right down to it, we’re nuts. Totally, certifiably insane. Parents. All of us… We don’t want what we say we want. Or do we?
For now, I am content watching my kids and tearing up when they aren’t watching. At least I don’t think they are watching. Maybe they have their own kind of monitor on me and I just don’t know it. At least they can’t complain that I am embarrassing them in front of their friends… yet.
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