Catch Me {Adventures in Motherhood}

This morning my two year old woke up in my bed alone.  She called out from upstairs "Mommy, where are you?" In her sleepy little voice.  I called back, "Down here".  I set my cup of coffee on the dining room table and made my way towards the stairs.  I looked up, and there she was, in her Tinkerbell nightgown, smiling down at me.  "Good morning, baby."  She promptly smiled, threw her arms out and launched herself at me from about 8 steps higher than where I was standing, shouting "Catch me!" with gleeful joy in her voice.  With mom-like reflexes I reached out and caught her just in time.

What would it be like to have such blind faith?  To know, without a doubt, Mommy will catch me.  She will save me.  She can always get there in time.

And don't you wish it were the truth?  It made me think about all the times I haven't reached out, couldn't prevent the fall, the bruised nose from stepping off the stool in the kitchen, just feet from where I was standing. The broken elbow that happened as I had my hand on her leg when she was going down the slide. I swear, I was touching her and couldn't save her in time.

It's terrifying, isn't it?  Being a parent.  Knowing that as much as you love your children, as much as you want to save them every time.  As fast as you run to catch them.  Sometimes... Sometimes, you miss.  Sometimes they fall.

But this time, I was lucky.  This time I caught her.  This time her face lit up with joy and she giggled.  This time I was her hero...