Reach Out and Touch...

Since I began working full time, The Pie goes to a sitter before and after school. Not actually a sitter…my next door neighbor watches her during that time. Neighbor has four children of her own (which includes a set of nearly two year old twins) and she also babysits other kids, too. Her house is what I yesterday lovingly deemed, “a teeming mass of tiny humanity.”

I love kids. Well, I love my kid. And some other people’s kids. But being surrounded by young children can sometimes make me feel as if my eyes are going to melt out of their sockets as a result of being exposed to the sheer sonic sounds emitted by the youngsters. But there are admittedly days when I long to be assaulted with sticky little hands, unintelligible squeals and drool. All the kids at Neighbor’s house know me and appear to really like – well, love – me. Especially the twins.

When I show up to claim The Pie, I sometimes will enter the living room, which is always separated by a baby gate, and plop down on the floor. Little people with limited speech run at me like I’m covered in animal crackers and they hug me and drape themselves on my lap, my shoulders, my head. It’s the closest approximation to being a rock star that I can imagine. On a day like I had yesterday, all I could think about on the drive home, was getting to those small humans and soaking up their love like a big old sponge. That’s me…the love sponge.

I honestly believe those children look forward to our limited time together. They squeal with delight when I walk in the door and bang on the couch where they want me to sit. They hug me, sit on me, poke my nose and ears with their little fingers and fight each other over who gets the best place on my lap. They “waller” all over me and I feel drained and energized all at the same time. 

It reminds me of when The Pie was very small and she hung on me like a parasitic fish. Even now, she must be touching me in some way almost all the time. It’s that interactive touch I think we all long for, what we need to remind us that we are not alone.  There are days that seem interminable, just going through the motions of being a content human being. When we are lost inside that teeming mass of humanity, it’s nice to feel a friendly, comforting touch.

 Back in my younger days, when I worked around a lot of men, I concocted a scheme in which I told everyone that it takes one hug a day to maintain happiness and two hugs a day to grow your happiness. I got a lot of hugs! And I remember eventually thinking that there was some truth to it. The more hugs I got, the better I felt about myself and my life. I can’t speak for those gentlemen, but I imagine the opportunity to rub up against some boobies made them fairly happy, too.

So, if you have a chance to just reach across the divide and gently touch someone who needs to feel comfort, stability or just your presence, don’t let that chance go by.  And if little people want to shove their fingers in your facial orifices, let ‘em!