You Speak-eh My Language?

Little Meems has always loved a lullaby.  “Sleepy songs” as she calls them.  A couple songs, a light back scratching and WHOMP.  It’s like valium for that kid.  She’s a goner.

With life being so busy all the time, and me working so much (between my part-time job, my two freelance clients and my little business, kikibOnan shamelessplug) it’s how she and I, in particular, reconnect.  You know she’s a snuggler, and craves human touch.  Why, just the other day while we were hiking, she was beginning to get tired and cranky, so she grabbed my hand “because I just want to snuggle with you, we haven’t snuggled all day.”  After a few minutes, her battery was fully charged and off she went. 

But, there are days when, I admit, I’m just exhausted and frustrated and ready to get them all to bed.  As she’s the only one of the three who requests demands a bedtime ritual, there definitely is a temptation to sometimes forgo the songs and the scratching, because quite frankly, it can be difficult.  She can be very, very bossy.  The songs have to be a certain length, and the scratching has to be just the right blend of hard and soft and all the required parts of the back must be covered.  I know, exhausting, right? 

BUT.

Every once in a while, I’m reminded why it’s so important to her.  That it’s not merely a bedtime stall tactic. 

Last night, as I was singing to her and her eyes were beginning to roll back in her head, there was this:

“Mom, you should do American Idol.”

“What?  Why?” 

“Because you sing so beautiful.  And I love it so much.”

Drip. Drip. Drip…the sound of my heart melting. 

That girl.

And now MY battery is recharged again.  Because, while she speaks the love language of touch, my love language is affirmation.

Turns out, we speak each others’ language fluently.  Who knew?