I have always been a bit overly empathetic.
But Motherhood has amplified this characterization. And it has also made me project everything on to my children.
It doesn’t matter what horrible thing I see in the news or on TV, I then fear it will happen to my boys.
At times, the fear, is almost too much to handle. I have to forcibly calm it down, or we would never leave the house! I do manage to keep this craziness in check.
Typically I don’t remember my dreams. And I don’t have nightmares. I do sometimes, although rarely, have deeply emotional dreams, that leave me feeling very sad upon waking.
Since becoming a mother, when I have these types of dreams they involve my kids.
This morning in the minutes between hitting the snooze button I was having one of these dreams.
It was a very sad dream about my child, although it was not about Ian or Sid. It was my child, in the way that dreams are. I can’t tell you what happened, but when the alarm went off for the third time, I really wanted the dream to end. But at the same time I didn’t ever want it to end, because that would mean the loss of this child.
Dreams are weird.
This dream made me want to rush into the boys rooms and give them giant hugs and never let them go.
But since they were still sleeping, I decided to get ready for work.
So today I just want to take a minute to appreciate my children.