Holded

All my talk about hand-holding must have made me go mushy. You were already mushy, I hear some of you saying. Okay, fine, agreed, but sometimes I am more myself than other times. This morning is one of those times.

Do you ever feel incapable of self-care? Or, maybe, just tired of doing it? Years ago, when Daughter # 2 felt sad or needy or, more likely, was in some sort of trouble, she would throw her head back and wail, “I need to be holded!” She was about 3 or 4 years old and life could be difficult for a middle child. Her older sister bossed her and her little brother bit her. She prayed about it (dear-dear-God-help-her-not-to-be-so-mean-to-me-and-help-him-not-to-bite-me-so-much).

And when relief didn't come quickly enough, she'd go for being "holded."

I dreamed last night that we had a huge party at our house. Being a typical dream, it was a party I hadn't known about, hadn't planned and hadn't wanted. People kept streaming in, oblivious to my confusion. My family wandered in and out of the rooms, vaguely happy it seemed, yet not really helping me give this party. I so wanted to be somewhere else but I couldn't leave.

I think I needed to be holded.