The Way I Am

Heard this sweet song today and found it descriptive of many of my Saturday's feelings. I was chatting with a friend this morning about the push and pull of intimacy -- the urge to mother (and maybe sometimes smother) which then gives way to the urge to withdraw. To some degree the mothering is a natural, and even sweet part of love:

If you are chilly, here take my sweater.

Your head is aching, I'll make it better.

And it's likely no coincidence that baby is a term of endearment for lovers, and one I'm particularly fond of hearing come out of my lover's mouth (I also love it when he calls me kid):

Cause I love the way you call me baby.

And you take me the way I am.

This urge to mother is largely biological, I reckon, but the line needs to be drawn somewhere -- ideally just shy of the point where it takes more from me than I really have to give. Because that's what leads to the urge to withdraw -- not the mothering itself but doing it when I don't really have that energy to spare. Hopefully I'll just keep getting better at recognizing, and then lovingly communicating, where that line is.

In the meantime, I have to take issue with a couple of Ingrid's lyrics:

I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair.

Sew on patches to all you tear.

No Rogaine required when your man is capable of embodying bald hotness (as mine is); and sewing? No. Take it to the tailor, honey.

But I love her take on the "words cannot express how forever this feels" phenomenon:

Cause I love you more than I could ever promise.

And, it bears repeating, there ain't nothing better than being loved like this:

And you take me the way I am.

You take me the way I am.

You take me the way I am.