the gps of arm-arm

For as long as I can remember, Mason and Jeremiah have solicited me for arm-arm when I put them to bed. No, it's not a euphemism. As newborns and then later as infants, they each seemed to be fixated on tactility involving my upper arm. Now, as they have gotten much older, the wooing and finesse has become a little more sophisticated, and dare I say it, a little more manipulative. Coffee is for closers after all. "Mommy," they say, "your arm is so velvety and _____ (warm if in winter, or cool if in summer)." Then, taking turns, they'll each slide a chubby hand up my sleeve to about triceps and just hang out there, fingers all wiggly, tickling, rubbing and scratching until they doze off. It does feel not ungood.

Each one got to be nursed a solid 18 months so they'd have superhuman immune systems. OK, and onnaccounta I'm a cuddler. Come to think of it, Mae got 18 plus 3 bonus months on top of that because we moved when he was a year and a half old, and he was, um, I was in transition and not exactly ready to tear him off. A cumulative effort of nearly 40 months of mommy on tap nutrition/immuno building and bonding is one of the many perks I've been able to enjoy as a SAHMPAABR* aka BAMF. The rewards for all parties involved are too numerous to detail, so I'll stick with the beauty of the phenomenon known to me as "arm-arm" for now.

The fall, winter and early spring months present somewhat of a challenge clothing wise at bedtime. Long sleeved shirts are a bit harder to roll and peel up high enough, but the guys stretch and pull until a satisfactory latitude is reached, elbow being the equator. Occasionally, Mason will comment on my rough equators, which is my perfect segue to invite him to put lotion on them. He usually declines.

Just tonight in a sleepy dozing off stupor, Jeremiah, in a "I want my MTV" tone of voice and attitude, demanded his arm-arm as if it is 1)an inalienable right given to all mammals, or 2)in the fine print of one of the gazillion papers you sign when being discharged from the hospital after giving birth -- "From this day forward, let it be known all male offspring shall have open and complete access to their mommies, be it the breast, arm-arm (above or below equator to be decided by involved parties), or her clean shirt on which to wipe all human excretions. So it is written, so it shall be done." Ah, the fine print.

This evening Jeremiah barely got up to the Tropic of Cancer before he was out hard. I tiptoed to the back of the house and went to my bathroom to put some lotion on my elbows so I'd be ready for Mason tomorrow night.


*stay at home mom posing as a bike racer