Without question, I’m my kid’s best friend right now.
“Here, Mommy!”…He insists, stuffing a car (or five) in my hand.
“Whatchu doing, Mommy?”…He inquires, looking into my eyes while sitting on my lap.
“Where are you, Mommy?”…He shouts, moments after I’ve told him I’m heading to the next room.
“Mommy-Mami-Ami-Ami-Ami-Ami!”…He chants when he needs me and no one else will do.
Even while writing this, K has wedged himself between me and the laptop—checking in now and again for cuddle time.
In these moments, I recall the word samatha (Pali/Sanskrit for “calm-abiding“) and the practice I’ve adopted to touch that quality: stopping. breathing. looking. listening.
So I accept the cars. I explain what I’m doing (talking to you, drinking coffee, reading a book). I report my location. I respond to his moment of distress as soon as it is possible and reassure him with hugs, kisses and my full attention that I am here for him.
Then from that place of calm, I can laugh and remind K that he does in fact have a father…who is often waiting nearby with arms wide open to receive him.