This is a very personal writing of mine, more or less a brain-dump if you will. I hope some of you can relate to it. I'd like to know if any of you share these types of feelings in your Big/little relationships.
Lately, I've been trying to pay attention to my behavior regarding my interaction with my Mommy. When it comes to career vs relationship, absence always makes the heart grow fonder. We both travel for work frequently and sometimes when we're not home in Las Vegas, we find ourselves in the same region and manage to take some time off together. It's wonderful that we're afforded that opportunity, but I'm beginning to find that I may be taking it for granted.
A little over a week ago, I fell ill with some type of throat infection that forced me to take almost a week off from work. I had been in Philadelphia, but returned to my parents' house in the Scranton area to recover. While recuperating, Mommy had finished her work in Boston and I decided I wanted to drive to Boston and spend the night with her, then drive back to my parents' the next day.
To make a long story short, I was way too sick to be making a road-trip like that, but in fever-stricken agony, I got in the Cadi and drove 7.5 hours to Boston. It was great to be in Mommy's arms again, but I was in way too much pain to appreciate it. I felt bad for not being able to take in the essence of every moment, but I wasn't hard on myself because I was extremely ill.
I woke up the next morning and we took turns driving back to PA, but I still wound up doing most of the driving because Mommy didn't like driving my car. Since we didn't have to wade through 2.5 hours of Boston traffic on the way back, it only took us about 4+ hours to get back to my parents' place in the woods.
While in the woods, Mommy exhausted every possible effort to nurse me back to health. I couldn't possibly swoon for her the way I wanted to, due to the agony I felt with every breath, swallow, and movement. A trip to the hospital, some bloodwork, and a few days of bed-rest later, I was feeling much better and did my best to appreciate the time I had with my Mommy, mostly by trying to make her feel appreciated.
It didn't really happen the way I had wanted it to though. By the time I felt better, it seemed that she was preoccupied with the next leg of her tour (as I should have been, mine) and didn't really seem to require any showing of appreciation from my end. In a way, the sacrifice that she exhibited in this case was remarkable in my eyes, but I really would have liked to have felt like I gave something back to her.
After a few hours of this back-and-forth, I began to feel tired. Immediately, she took to changing me into my night-time diapers and my sleeper for bed and making sure I was as comfy as could be. At that moment, I thought of every night I spent in a hotel by myself, ready for bed with nobody to cuddle... I thought very much that I should want to be cuddling tightly against Mommy's breast and feeling her silky skin, but in the fleeting emotion of regression, I found myself wanting to cuddle my little monkey Kiki more than anyone else.
I found myself already somewhat complacent that I had Mommy readily available to cuddle. The fact that she was there however, was enough to comfort me without the necessity for direct physical contact.
I awoke several times in the night to hear Mommy uttering my nickname ("Piggie", which is short for Piglet.) absently while she watched cartoons well into the night. We both woke up at a reasonable hour this morning and got ready for the last legs of our tours, respectively. We both packed up, kissed my parents goodbye and headed for Philly.
I drove us in my car, as has become the custom at this point, and dropped Mommy off at the train station so she could commute to Manhattan. We didn't talk very much during the car ride because Mommy was concentrating on business-related correspondence. I wasn't especially vying for her attention while we traveled, either. I was concentrating on keeping my car on the highway since we were driving through a pretty severe rainstorm.
When we arrived at 30th Street Station, I helped her with her bags and and we took about 5 seconds to passionately kiss before we parted ways for the next few weeks. As she headed for the terminal and I returned to the driver seat, I was instantly stricken with heartbreak, regret, and agonizing separation-anxiety.
"I should have..."
"If only we had..."
"...alone again...both of us."
As I sat in my car, I swallowed my insecurity and reached for my TomTom so that I could absent-mindedly find my way to my usual hotel. I pictured Mommy weaving through herds of stupid humans, impervious to their stares as her ear-buds pipelined her music of choice directly to her brain; Confident, strong, independent. I considered myself, sitting in my idling car, hesitant to start my ipod, sucking my thumb of my right hand while my left hand gripped the steering wheel... Trying to muster up enough security to put the car in drive.
I assimilated to resemble my Mommy. She is after all, my role model. Without her example, I'm not sure I could face the dangers of my daily life the way I do with my devil-may-care exterior. I'm not sure I could appear as collected as I do while candidly keeping my head on a swivel. Without what she has taught me to be, I'm not sure I could see through the con-artists that try to trick me every day.
Though I feel somewhat complacent with what I am very fortunate to have, I need to remember to not feel overly guilty because of it. I do appreciate what I have every day, and I need to acknowledge that my complacency is shared with my Mommy who takes on her motherly duties thanklessly and doesn't give them a second thought. That is motherhood.
I acknowledge that the insecurity that I feel when I'm away from her will only augment the appreciation for the closeness, comfort, and security I'll feel the next time we are together. <3
Please feel free to share comparing/contrasting experiences or comments relative to this piece.