If you are familiar at all with the book The Five Love Languages then the following sentence will make sense to you. If you are not familiar, I still think you will be able to follow along.
My top two love language are quality time and physical touch. I love a good party and being surrounded by lots of people. But when I want to connect with a friend or family member, I selfishly want them all to myself so I don't have to pay attention to anyone else. (If I'm honest, it's so I get their full attention. I'm attention hungry, what can I say?)
I also touch people. Sometimes to their surprise. I remember hugging this woman goodbye at the grocery store that I had just met. It was awkward for the both of us after I realized what I was doing. When I served tables there was usually some poor person that received my touch on their shoulder several times through out their meal. And how can you possibly share a laugh or a cry without touching them? My girlfriend, Katie, is a bruiser when she gets excited about something. I need shoulder pads around her to protect myself from her hitting.
I have noticed that my "physical touch" love language is turning into a love/hate language. I am touched ALL DAY LONG. I have two tiny pairs of hands ready to touch, tickle, and play as soon as the clock hits 7am. It's cuddle time, body slam time (why I taught Lainey body slam is beyond me), it's mommy hair brush time, shower time (I rarely take a shower alone any more). My kisses heal wounds and stop tears. My legs are there to land on for my new walker, to keep small arms out of the dishwasher, and to catch a falling child. My arms are grocery carriers, baby carriers, purse carriers (both mine and Lainey's), and swings for each of the girls to fly around from. My lap holds squirmy babies, whiney toddlers, comfort and security for both, and the tickle torture chamber. My face is stroked constantly by my very dramatic toddler who has seen "Tangled" far too many times. It is also hit and grabbed at by my strong willed baby girl who is finding hilarity in all sorts of reactions she can get.
All that to say, by the time my sweet husband comes home and would like some quality time...he often hears, "Please don't touch me." I say it to my girls somedays too, but they don't listen! Physical touch (and I am not even talking about the kind that is asking for more, just a hug or a kiss hello) can feel like pure torture at times. I just want to go for an hour without someone touching me.
When I was looking for that random statistic about how many hugs a person needs in a day (apparently it's seven), what I found was so heartbreaking. So many lonely and truly sad people that were longing for someone to hug them. Someone to tell them that everything is going to be alright. I didn't find many other people complaining of being overly touched.
I recognize that this season of motherhood is short and usually very sweet! I know there will be days that I will long for my little ones to run to me first in the morning. That I will wish their little faces to light up when I walk through their bedroom door. I think of my grandfather who lost my wonderful grandmother and doesn't have that kiss good morning or good night any more.
So although there I times I want to scream, "Don't touch me!" (especially to the stranger at the antique store groping my pregnant belly) I sit back and appreciate that I am the world to two precious and beautiful girls. And I have a husband that wants to kiss me even though I may not have showered that day and will find me attractive (or at least tell me so) when I am 9 months pregnant.
But reality just kicked in. I was holding my youngest while I wrote the last few sections and I put her down to get dinner in the oven and she started screaming since we were no longer touching. That doesn't feel sweet right now. TORTURE!!