Mommy Cuddle…

I know my kids love me, don’t get me wrong. I get hugs and kisses and tickles and pound it’s and high fives and all that cool stuff, but what don’t I get… Cuddles.

I really don’t know what it is. I don’t believe I’m that bad of a cuddler, at least I’ve never been told that’s the case. We’re having a nice relaxing day on Independence Day (Happy 4th of July everyone) and my wife (God bless her) hasn’t slept for four of the past five nights and wants to lay down for a few. “No worries babe, I got this.”

Well, I thought I did, kids had a better idea evidently. No sooner than Jaci lays down Guinnie hops in the bedroom “Mommy Cuddle Please.”

“Guinnie, come out to the couch with Daddy for a cuddle” - No Dice

“Guinnie, come out with Daddy, I’ll get you some cheesecake” - still no

“Guinnie, come with Daddy, I’ll buy you a new car” - she can’t drive yet

At this point, my saint of a wife has Guinnie tucked in and already in full cuddle mode by the time I pout walk back to the living room to hang with my son.

I’m relegated to laundry folding or errand boy (get me bread, get me water, get me an Ipad) for the foreseeable future all while this fantastic cuddling is going down that I am not invited to participate in.

It’s not lost on me that most mom’s would gladly sell an organ to have that type of freedom to get housework done, but in the moment I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on something.

Enough musing, time to get to the actual laundry folding that I should be doing.

Pray for me!