Totem

I apologize in advance for the schmaltz. Wait, no I don't. I warn in advance of the schmaltz. Having children has done this to me - they have turned me from a woman who throws away greeting cards moments after receipt into a weeping mess of schmaltz. And for that, I am both grateful and disturbed. A few weeks ago, I was driving in the car with my children. I told them that I loved them. Five minutes later, I did it again. And then again another three minutes after that. My son was annoyed. "Why do you keep saying that? I know you love me. You don't have to say it all the time." I laughed and told him that moms just do that, that we can't help ourselves. I've been letting that conversation percolate for a while now, wondering why I do feel compelled to tell my children that I love them so often - too often really. (Although perhaps too often is just a myth. Perhaps there is never a too often when it comes to this.) Is it really because I love them that much? I do, but I don't think that's it. I think it's a verbal talisman. I think that in the primal-fire-dancing region of my brain, I'm protecting them from ever feeling unloved or unwanted or uncherished or unalive. I'm making love into their totem, I suppose. And why not? We name our children after great people or give them names with great meaning: Victor, Faith, Christian, Ming, etc. That's as much magical thinking as my love chant, I suppose. So I just keep repeating myself in the hopes that on some bad night in the future, my children will know that I love them. And I hope that it will be enough.