I need you

"I need you," Boo whines as he reaches for me.
Most days, I simply tuck him into my lap and we snuggle until the need passes.
Some days, I have to look at him and say, "I'm right here but I can't hold you right now."
And then I have to look into his tear filled eyes, because, being only three, he doesn't understand that sometimes, other needs take precidence over his.
Such as the need my bladder has to pee before I explode.
Or the need his sister has to have her nasty diaper changed.
Or the need his brother has to be pried off the ceiling fan.
Or my need for five minutes a day of quiet.
I realized when I started this mothering gig that I would have to subvert myself to demanding wee heathens.
I realized I would possibly lose a portion of myself to the beast called motherhood.
And after a lot of thought and consideration (and five positive pregnancy tests) I went into this job willingly.
I have walked the floor with my newborns, I have sacrficed sleep and breast to satisfy them. I have held heads as they upchucked like Linda Blair, and I have slept on six inches of bed while they had the entire middle section of our California king. I have wrestled them until the laughed so hard they gasped for breath, and I have sang and danced with them until I couldn't breathe.
But some days, "I need you," can be too much.
But most days, i put aside my needs and reach for my child, reminding myself that they won't always need me, they won't always fit in my lap, and their problems won't always be so easy to solve.