This weekend, with both of our husbands off hunting, Mom and I decided to spend the night together.
Can I share a deep, dark secret with you?
I’m 29. A bona fide grown-up. And I still love a sleepover at my mommy’s house.
I can’t help it. There’s just something about being huddled under the covers with Mom - talking about our lives, laughing hysterically, and sharing our dreams that hearkens back to my childhood days.
When I was a little girl, Mom and I would often huddle under the covers of my parents’ bed during a thunderstorm. My dad would be out pacing in the living room, in front of the big picture window, talking about the beauty of thunderstorms.
Dad loved lightning and thunder and would wake from a sound sleep for the opportunity to observe the perfect storm.
Meanwhile, back in my parent’s room, Mom and I would cower under the covers with each thunder boom and flash of lightning.
“I hate thunderstorms,” Mom would confide.
“Me, too!” I’d agree in a whisper, glad my mother’s fear validated my own. The fact we shared the fear made it less scary. Especially if MOM was scared of it.
“Your father is nuts. Standing out there in the living room! With this storm going on!” Mom would shake her head, letting the covers slip for split second.
I’d peek my head out to hear Dad, in the living room, explaining to no one, the beauty of the storm.
I’d slither back under the covers before the lightning could flash again. “Yep. He’s crazy.”
Mom and I would exchange knowing glances and wait for the next big BOOM.
I’ve grown-up since then, but even now I prefer not being alone during a thunderstorm. And somehow, even though thunderstorms still scare me, memories of my childhood experience make me smile. Even through the lightning crashes and thunder booms.
Mom and I share a special bond.
I know those of you with siblings have had many wonderful, positive experiences. Priceless memories and times you’ve shared with brothers and sisters.
But allow me this one thing.
I loved being an only child. I found special joy spending time with my parents, knowing I didn’t have to share them in any way. Their love was never divided.
They were my parents, and I was fully aware of the depth of their love for me – their only child. Some people say it places too much pressure on a child to be the only one. Not for me. The last thing I felt was pressured. I felt loved, desired, and wanted.
It was that feeling that encouraged me to succeed. It motivated me to do my best. That love made me a better person. And their amazing love for God was the testimony that – still - brings me to my knees in gratefulness for the Christ who died for me, and the God who blessed me with His servants for parents.
There was a part of me that especially enjoyed knowing I was the apple of their eye. It probably killed them at times not to over protect or smother me, and yet I always felt their gentle presence beside me.
There is no one in the world I can be totally at home with but my parents. And since Dad is gone, time spent with Mom is absolutely treasured.
I mean, who else but my mom will make s’mores at 1 a.m. just because we both have a chocolate craving? Who else will stay up all night watching The Office re-runs just to hear her daughter laugh? Who else keeps a spare bra – in her daughter’s size – on hand, just in case? Who will lend you everything in the world and not care if she ever sees it again?
So, whether it’s thunderstorms or sleepovers, I am definitely of the opinion that home is wherever your mom is.