The Last One

As I sit here typing this post, he is sitting next to me, explaining the detailed issues between “Zig and Sharko” on Netflix.

“Oh no! Stingrays!” , he says.

A giggle follows as he scoots a little closer. He grabs his “blankie” and immediately goes for the gigantic hole that he has worked back into after the countless times his Nana has fixed it. (* You see, he loves the batting inside)

The blanket wiggles back and forth from his little fingers rubbing the soft aged cotton inside. At what point will this blanket completely disintegrate from the constant abuse? (I think)

By now, he is practically underneath my side and that glorious lime green blanket is lovingly rubbing my arm. I already knew that this would be the end result. Not a day goes by that I do not get asked, “Mommy, can I rub your arm?” Because I know it is a comfort thing for him, I always oblige. 🙂

Now…… I can’t seem to get rid of this lump in my throat.

Ugh! I knew this day was going to come, but still, I guess deep down, I could avoid it somehow!

My mind immediately throws me back to almost six years ago when I was sitting in my bedroom, telling Z we were pregnant. I had a plan and it DIDN’T involve being pregnant with a 3rd child at the time.

However, God had other plans for me. You see, God remembered how I use to sit and stare at Z and the girls and be so INSANELY jealous of the relationship they had. How I would be with them all day long and the moment that man stepped in the door, they would instantly go running to him like he was a Rock Star and not leave his side the entire night until bedtime. Or how we could be anywhere and they would want him before they would want me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know my girls loved and do love me, but it’s different with their Daddy. You love both of your parents but there is something about a girl’s love for her Daddy. I knew that because of how I love my own.