When our kids are babies, it’s easy to snuggle and coddle them. In other words, it’s easy and acceptable for us to show our love for them.
When my kids were infants, I loved looking at the back of their little necks, that sweet little spot that’s so soft and fragile it seems to have been created for a parent’s lips to gently kiss and snuggle into. I thought it was just me that felt that way.
I mean, who do you tell that you love the back of your baby’s neck? Who would understand? I recently found a kindred soul and established immediate camaraderie with author Anna Quindlen, who expressed the same feeling about her children as infants in her book, “Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake.”
Quindlen says the love for your children is so big you think it hard to contain. It is above what you ever thought was possible, and you feel that your heart will burst.
She’s right.
But, as our babies grow, attend school and begin to grow a bit away from us, you have to learn to contain that love somewhat — or else. That love never changes, of course. But your ability to express it as you really want to changes — or at least it’s supposed to, in order to be socially acceptable.
Think Barbra Streisand as Ben Stiller’s mom in the film “Meet the Fockers” or in her role as Seth Rogen’s mom in “The Guilt Trip.”
Both of my daughters called me within 24 hours of one another to say that all they saw on the screen was me in “The Guilt Trip.” They had both rented the video within a day of one another. Although I am of Italian heritage, I admit there is a good bit of Jewish mother in me. We Italian and Jewish moms have a lot in common, as do most mothers everywhere, regardless of ancestry.
I have not seen the film, and am not sure I should. Let’s face it, folks. What was once acceptable when our kids were toddlers and school-age children is considered suffocating or neurotic by our adult kids. And although sniffing and snuggling the back of my kids’ neck is no longer the goal, loving them with the love inside me that is still so big my heart could burst is the goal. Nonetheless, I have had to learn to contain that bursting love, despite myself.
My kids don’t understand this. How can they when they have not yet arrived at the place I speak of and cannot yet feel the way I feel? They do not yet have the skills to understand or even hear the language I now speak at my age.
I never understood why my mother insisted on making me call her every night before I went to sleep. Now I do. It didn’t matter that I was over 50. Whenever I was out — even on a date, mind you — I had to call her to make sure she knew I was home safely and not ravaged and pillaged. As if she could have stopped any such acts with her worrying anyhow.
Now I understand.
My kids grew up with a selfproclaimed hovercraft mom— and unfortunately, I remain so. And my reward for all that hovering — although it may not involve smothering hugs now — is evident every time I see my three children interact, laugh and hug one another at family parties. I know they have learned how to love and how to express that love to one another, their significant others and their children. And, as parents, that is our job, isn’t it?
My job was to raise them, love them and teach them how to pass on the love, compassion and connection they were raised with. And every time I see the three of them together, I know I must have done something right, hovercraft mom or not.
Clare Marie Celano is a staff writer for Greater Media Newspapers. She may be reached at ccelano@gmnews.com.