Tonight, I crawl into Nora's daybed, half of me hanging off the edge because she's decided to tuck about eight stuffed animals in beside her. We read Tarzan and a Mercer Meyer about getting big, about Daniel and the lions. I like to read my own books beside her, snuggling until she falls asleep. There are probably parenting police out there who are going to arrest me one day for not allowing Nora to fall asleep by herself. I honestly wouldn't mind the ticket. I doubt Nora is going to want me to read her stories and snuggle when she's 14. I'm going to live it up now. Maybe when she IS 14, she'll be more likely to come talk to me about, well, you know, all the stuff you need to talk about at 14. It's overwhelming.
I'm juggling between two books right now (not counting the Bible, which is always on the nightly reading list). The first is called Woe Is I (a grammar book). Grammar has always been one of my biggest insecurities next to just being insecure in general. I actually like to have specific insecurities. It helps me narrow down my amazon search terms. Anyway, the other is called Deeply Rooted (about the disappearance of the small farm in America--another thing that makes me feel insecure because, you know, I live on a small farm and would rather avoid disappearing). So, I'm reading beside Nora as I try to assimilate everything I'm learning about who and whom and the governmental regulations that allow corporate dairy operations to qualify for "pasture fed" status when all they have is a patch of grass in front of their office, and I'm thinking Nora might have fallen asleep when I hear her small voice. She's singing. I lean in closer:
Just a bucket full of love helps the sweet dreams come round, sweet dreams come round, sweet dreams come Row-ound....
She's rewriting that song about sugar and medicine from Mary Poppins. This child, the one with the golden smile as she crawls into bed, this child is loved, and I'm hearing it now as she drifts off to sleep beside me.
I worry about this "broken home" more than I have admitted here on this blog, but tonight, I know for certain there is something Nora has in ample amounts: love--from all the corners of her life. There's nothing broken about that. Not at all. I want every kid to have that, including all the ones who have grown up already, all us broken folk crawling into bed. You are loved. You are loved.