Ramblings of Jo Mama

It is late. I am all cozy in my bed with my buddy snoring away beside me.  I am ok with snoring now. I am also all hooked up to my night time buddy, called Oxygen.  Tonight before the drugs kick in it is imperative that I write a bit of what I have been feeling about big kids. Not the little gooey, chubby, warm kisses, jelly covered kind, which are all divine, but you know, those kids grow up, and they are no less extraordinary.  They are who God gives you in return for all those zillions of sleepless nights, barf clean-ups that go from one side of the bathroom to the other, the worries, the sassing, the chasing the sasser down and whacking them one, the endless trips to and from everywhere until they drive, the "I don't really like that kid" lectures, the calls from the school, good or bad and on and on. These are the kids who were ages one to twelve, who are now fifteen to twenty-seven. These are the kids who climbed right into the trenches with me through an awful illness. They all had their own ways of dealing with me. No two the same at all yet all of them saved me. They saved my sanity and still do. They remind me that I have faith when I forget what the word even means. They know how much to push without pushing to hard. They are the best huggers and kissers and they are my reward.  I love my grand-kids like crazy, but they didn't 'go to the mats' with me like my Five.  I have been home from the hospital for ten days and they expect nothing of me. They have patience when I don't. They love me when I am irrational and crying and sure someone will make me go back to the hospital. They are able to see the big picture when it is too big for me to glance at. They say there is nothing stronger than a Mothers love, I beg to differ.