Every week, the uplifting Lisa Jo hosts a linkup called Five Minute Friday. She provides a one word writing prompt and we write for just five minutes. No editing. No fussing. Just writing to write and to express and not holding back. Five minutes goes fast, y’all. Today’s prompt is hands.
My husband and I have a long commute – 30 minutes there and 30 minutes back. It’s a bit longer if you count the time to swing to the daycare and do the pick-up and drop-off. And being the guilty working mom that I am, I ride in the back with my girls.
The baby is still not great at taking a pacifier, so the best thing available to soothe her is my hand. She’ll suck on the fleshy part of my palm or sometimes on my pinky knuckle. And somehow that is comforting to her.
My oldest, on the other side of me, will be holding my hand for dear life. She’s not scared or anxious. But she sure does love to hold my hand. Tightly.
When I was home on maternity leave, she would nap in “momma’s bed” because it was the easiest way to make sure she napped and momma got her much-needed break. Of course, I had to lay there, too. And she had to hold me. Usually it was a choke hold around my neck, but some lucky days, she just wanted to hold my hand while she slept. And you know what? I wanted to hold her hand, too.
Hand holding is connection. We get that from an early age. We reach out for our mommy and daddy’s hands and we know that we are protected and safe and loved. So much is communicated through the touch of a mother’s hand.
And so I squeeze myself in the backseat every morning, mentally making note that I’d fit much better if my hips weren’t so padded, and I hold hands with both girls. One chews on me and both pull on me – all the way to my heart.