I hesitated to write about this for fear of readers thinking, “Her son is almost 2 and she’s only NOW feeling the love? What’s up with her?!” Know what? The hesitation was overruled by honesty and elation. Because though I’m not a gambling woman (unfortunately, the economy has dictated that), I’ll wager a bet that I’m not alone with this rather delayed reaction to my little one.

Did you ever have that defining moment, or consecutive series of moments, when you sort of have this outer body experience, feel a sense of calm roll over you, and think, “Wow – now I finally know what it feels like to love something so much it hurts”?

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that for the past several weeks, my son only has eyes for his mommy. He makes it clear by the broad, toothy grin he flashes when I appear at our front door after work, and in the mornings, when he watches me walk out the door on my  way to work and bursts into tears (which breaks my heart, and I know you all “get” that).  If that’s not clear enough, then maybe it’s when he spontaneously puts his head on my lap and smiles so sweetly, I want to kiss the stuffing out of his cheeks, or when he reaches up for me -- and only me -- if he’s hurt, shy, or uncomfortable. Or maybe it’s when, right before he goes to sleep, he gestures for me  to pick him up one last time for the day, so he can study my eyeglasses and try to figure out how they fit around my face, poke my eyes and say “ice” (his version for both the frozen stuff and the peepers), laugh as I wince at all the poking and pinching, and then “make nice” by putting his head on my shoulder as I nuzzle his little soapy-smelling neck for some final goodnight kisses.

Nope, I’m not sure it’s that at all. Maybe it’s really not the way he puts me on a pedestal just now.

Maybe it’s because if I was given a choice between watching him play quietly in his room or snuggling on our couch with a great chick flick and my favorite movie-watching food, I’d opt for watching him play quietly so I could oogle at how “brilliant” he is as he flips through books and spins the wheels on his trucks. Or maybe it’s because when I think about what my favorite parts of this past summer were, I choose the days I thought were HIS favorites -- when he had the time of little life at a local splash park, laughing and whooping it up for hours. For the first time in MY life, the best times are now defined by what makes my son happiest.  

I’m not sure why the defining moment, or moments, of the unique, loving bond between mother and child seems to have hit me only recently. That’s cause for another blog entry, I guess. But I do know that when I hug him tightly at night and whisper that I love him more than he could ever understand, I really mean it. I really, really do.