The Nicest Thing he Ever Said.

love you

 

“I love you mum”

“I love you too”

“I love you mum”

“I love you too”

“I love you mum”

Ah that’s lovely, thank you”

Sometimes I like to mix it up a bit. The monotony of replying to that statement can get to you slightly, ok a lot. Actually it’s not a statement, it’s a question. It says,

“Hi I’m here, can you see me?”

Or it’s a need, a requirement,

“Please fill me up with assurance because all my positive self belief keeps draining away”

Sometimes I have to change the reply because I wouldn’t believe my own voice, dripping with tedium and through clenched teeth,

“YEEEESSSSS FOR THE HUNDRETH TIME TODAY, I LOVE YOU TOO”

Sometimes I think,

“You know what? Right now I’m not sure how I feel, if I try and fake it, will you be able to tell? Will you notice that at this very moment I don’t actually want to answer? Will that then make you feel even worse about yourself? Will a smile and a hair ruffle suffice?

When he first said it, and the thousand times afterwards, I was really touched. Then it dawned on me, it wasn’t what he was saying to me, it was what he expected in reply that was important.  Giving to receive, is all part of his survival strategies.

It’s like that ever so considerate question I get EVERY morning,

“Did you sleep well mum?”

How sweet I thought at first. Then, how clever, he’s worked out that when I’m tired I’m not so lovely therapeutic mummy. Survival first.

Or the giant hug I receive on pick up from Cubs, school or sports club. I know what follows, a responsible adult tentatively asking “I’m so sorry but, can I have a word?” Soften her up before the deadly blow is delivered. Survival is always on his mind.

Some Saturdays ago, after a really successful family day, Stig and I lay chatting on his bottom bunk.  He loves this, sharing and snuggling at bedtime. We talked this, that and something else, to be honest I really don’t remember. I was feeling contented, he could have been talking me through the building of some major creation in Minecraft and I would have agreed in an accommodating manner and ooohhed and arrgghhed with delight, in all the right places. I’m good like that sometimes.

As we lay there he stopped talking, I noticed that, and then sighed deeply. The type of exhalation of air, deep from the belly, that indicates the height of relaxation. As he cosied his lithe body up against mine, he said without thinking.

“I rrrreeeaaalllyyy like you mummy”

I could feel the smile across his face in the words he spoke. He had delivered the words from his heart.

We hugged, long and hard and then said our goodnights.

Downstairs I sat on the sofa and cried.

“What’s wrong Mr H asked?”

“Stig has just said the nicest thing he’s ever said to me” I replied.

14 Comments

  1. Mrs Family of 5 April 10, 2014 / 6:27 pm

    Oh I can so so relate to this! Its an amazing feeling when they say or do something genuine isn’t, shame it’s just not more often, at least it’s not often here anyway x

    • thepuffindiaries April 10, 2014 / 6:58 pm

      You can become so cynical about the things they say that it’s just lovely when you know it’s from the heart, it means so much.xx

  2. Adoption Journey Blog April 11, 2014 / 11:47 am

    That is such a lovely post. And such a preciosu thing for him to say.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve got some dust under my contact lens… must find a tissue…

    • thepuffindiaries April 11, 2014 / 1:05 pm

      Thank you, it was a gorgeous moment, good luck with the contact lens. :-)

  3. Mindy April 11, 2014 / 5:08 pm

    This is such a beautiful post! I can’t wait until my baby can talk, so I can share moments like this with him.

    • thepuffindiaries April 11, 2014 / 6:27 pm

      Thank you, I’m sure you and your beautiful baby (just visited your gorgeous blog) will have lots of special moments. x

  4. plumstickle April 11, 2014 / 9:02 pm

    I love this – and the post about tween-teen friendships (where is that now – can’t find it?!). I feel your pain, and have so often been there – this could have been me writing! – but those little perfect moments can and do make it all better, until the next desperate moment anyway! So glad to have made your online acquaintance. Keep your pecker up x

  5. Anne Hargreaves April 12, 2014 / 10:19 am

    I experience the same. All 3 say the words in different ways, and with each I have had a handful of times when the connection has been there. It is indeed a special moment that helps to keep some perspective on the situation. Thanks for sharing x

  6. older mum in a muddle April 17, 2014 / 9:18 am

    What a lovely post…. just melted my heart to mush. What a gorgeous heartfelt thing to say to you! X

  7. lindsay May 4, 2014 / 4:51 am

    This drives me BANANAS! It seems like it’s a fairly common thing among our kids. I’m going to take your strategy and mix it up in my response, as I too have often wondered how in-genuine my 700th I love you too must sound.
    It does make those actual genuine moments all the sweeter though, thank you for sharing your special moment with all of us.

  8. older mum in a muddle May 4, 2014 / 10:19 am

    And ps A HUGE CONGRATULATIONS IN BEING SHORTLISTED IN THE BIBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! X

  9. Mummy Plum May 19, 2014 / 7:22 pm

    This was such a lovely honest post – and such a heartwarming ending. Hurrah! X

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *