Addiction

There's a rather odd addiction in my family.

It's not anything lewd or rude or even, quite possibly, interesting.

They're addicted to snuggling. Yes, I said they. It's not me, although they're converting me slowly! I grew up in a home where there were hugs goodnight, but not all the time, kisses goodbye, but not absolutely required, and occasional affectionate ruffling of the hair. There was also violence (but only from my dad), which makes a child afraid of touch after a while. So, while I enjoyed the occasional hair ruffle or hug, I also built up a protective barrier of being okay with not being touched.

I married a man (a boy at the time, really) who couldn't keep his hands off me. At the time, I figured I was just pretty hot to trot, and kind of always assumed, without over-thinking it, that he would simmer down eventually and just have the occasional hug or kiss goodnight. I fantasized, however, about a man who would kiss me many, many times, who would always touch me in a positive and loving way.

Well, that fantasy came true. He can never get enough hugs, kisses, snuggles, or positive touch. And soon, along came three bouncing, shrieking offspring just like him! These kids need a hug and kiss when they first wake up, then usually one (each!) around breakfast time, then one before they leave for school, one when they come home from school, one or two or three or four in the evening, just for some sort of confirmation, then of course lots of snuggles before bed. The youngest is, as many are, the most intense with this. She has actually bruised my arm from hugging it with all of her little three-year-old might. Since she is not in school yet, we get random hugs all day from her, no occasion of sending off or welcoming home, just breaks in playtime.

I must admit I haven't reciprocated as well as I should have. Part of it is because of that barrier built long ago. There's an affection limit inside of me, but it is being stretched! My husband whimpers at night if I leave his side, we sleep curled into each other- it's the only way we sleep well. He, having never touched me in any way other than kindly, has succeeded, more than anyone else, in breaking down that wall of self-preservation. Sometimes I get frustrated by the constant hovering hug monsters. My oldest seems to need affection as a way of assuring herself that all is right with the world. The middle one seems happy to go about life usually, but every now and then just states her need for 'some lovin'. Then she wraps her arms around my neck (or whoever else is within reach) and just hangs on, feeding off the strange energy that love gives.

I am not sure exactly when this started, but my kids sleep together. Every night. Oh sure, we put them to bed in separate beds- all three tucked in with prayers, love and threats, you parents know what I mean...
Within 5 minutes, there's at least two of them together, and by morning all three bottoms poke out from one single blanket. Fitting a nine year old, a seven year old, and a three year old all on one twin bed is a logistics challenge, but they're quite flexible and usually seem comfortable.

I used to think this was weird. Something inside of me- tradition? The fact that I didn't grow up like this, therefore it could not be right? Something said- no, this is not healthy, not right, not beneficial. So I would fight them- hauling one out to her own bed, trying to convince the oldest to shut her bedroom door to keep the other two out. Michael would turn to me and just ask why. Why, if they love so much that physical contact, why would I pull them apart? Then I would feel mean, and try to defend something that I did not myself even understand.

I stopped fighting the kids. Heck, I sleep better with my best friend curled up near me at night, why not them? I know, it's different, I'm married... I gave myself all of these arguments as well. The nights that they get their snuggles in are the nights they sleep the best. That's all there is to it. They take after daddy, who takes after his mom, who takes after her dad... a legacy of love and affection and ultimate trust. Who am I to dare to try to break this? Sometimes they fight in bed- one kid's foot winds up in another's eye socket, blankets never cover enough limbs. We've considered trading in the three twin beds and two bedrooms and just putting one big queen bed up for them all, but that would just confirm the weirdness, right? I don't know.

What I do know is that I have been thrust into this family of snugglers for a reason. Although I sometimes squirm in the constant embraces and pointy-chin (or prickly-chin) kisses and short arms wrapped around my neck, they're beginning to win me over. My mother-in-law is coming up tomorrow, and I already know I'll have to brace myself for long hugs, short hugs, side hugs, and all other sorts of hugs. And kisses. And more hugs...

I suppose its an addiction I can live with. Addiction to physical contact with another human being- a loved one. They thrive off this contact, and I am learning to. Maybe someday affection will be my addiction, too...

Labels: affection, cuddles, cuddling, hugs, kisses, love, motherhood, snuggles, snuggling