My Lap

A couple weeks ago, the extended family gathered in a row of $20 balcony seats at Hinsdale Central's auditorium to watch my niece, Ellie, chasse and pirouette through her first ballet recital. Initially, I thought the steep fare was a suburban rip off, but the combination of baby ballerinas, seasoned company performers, and catchy tunes was well worth the money.

Bobby and Mary shared a VIP seat during the show. Mary had it for the first half; Bobby for the latter. Perched on my lap, they both felt the rhythms that carried the dancers from one bar to the next; they heard the lyrics of 'California Girls' and 'Put on a Happy Face' echoing in their ears; and they hopefully inherited a little more of my enthusiasm for the performing arts.

Around the fifteenth number though, Mary made an escape so she could practice her own routine in the aisle, while Bobby was snatched up and moved from one hot seat to another. As his face went from a gaping smile to perplexity, Mimi laughed and said, 'he knows this isn't his Mommy's lap.'

While he was content shortly after, it did make me think about the kind of comfort I offer my kids, how they perceive me, and just what my lap must feel like?

Even now I can remember exactly how my Mom's lap felt. Falling asleep on it in the car; sitting on it to read stories, crying on it when the world seemed too big for a little girl to handle. It was soft, embracing, warm, and filled with a cushy kind of love that made everything okay.

While the former lacrosse player in me doesn't love that my lap has gotten a little squishy over the years, I know my kids have appreciated the extra padding. They've loved the pony rides, booster seat, and proximity to their food. And as they start to realize that at times life and its bee stings, boo-boos, rainy days, teeth, and bad dreams can be a little scary, I love that scooping them up and offering them an insulated seat can cure any ill.

This week alone, there were thunderstorms, a reoccurring nightmare about a 'scary man', pangs from first teeth, a bee sting(!), and several other cuts, scrapes, and bumped heads.  

But as fast as fear approached, there were chocolate chips, ice cream, carousel rides, rice cereal and extra doses of hugs and kisses from Mom, Dad, and Eva as rewards for bravery.

In a way, I wish they could always stay on my lap, safe from the world. I know as quickly as Bobby turned five months, they will crawl, run, and graduate off my lap and into independence. And I will long for their little bottoms. But I love that each week brings new developments, adventures, and lessons. And I couldn't be more proud of the accomplishments they've already made.

Lo.