Arms

I have noticed, since birthing my heathens, that some days my arms are too full and some days they ache with emptiness.
As the boys age, it seems like I spend most of my time trying to get a hug as they run by.
They are so fast and so busy and getting so big, they forget that their mom needs a few snuggles to get through the day.
Lats night was a good night. Bug curled up against me on the couch, and Boo laid on me while we watched TV.
I was smothering and uncomfortable, but I let them lay there until they decided to move.
Punk is my last hope of any real affection from my children, and she's outgrowing it far too quickly.
She'll still walk up and back into my arms to stand there, or she'll come over and demand to be picked up, only to demand release a few seconds later.
But she's a busy girl with things to do, and catching her is becoming as hard as trying to catch a fish barehanded.
It's normal. It's part of growing up. It makes me proud to watch them find their independence, safe in the knowledge that the security of our arms are only a step away, but it's sad to realize that I will never have baby snuggles again, never have a wriggling lump rely on me to transport them.
It is a joy and a heartbreak to watch my children grow.
So if you see a woman walking behind three adults, with her arms held out, you'll know its a mother missing her snuggles and sloppy kisses and cold feet pressed into her back.
Hug your kids tighter. Squeeze until they squeal for mercy. And know all too soon, you'll be letting go.