Our pillar.

We love making beds on the floor. We pull the memory foam off the bed, grab all the big thick comforters, and all the soft blankets and build that bitch up. Topping it off with couch pillows, body pillows, and a snoogle. We put the kid to bed at 8, per usual, and get our cuddle on. Occasionally we let him in on it. The other night, I could not get comfy, and crawled up onto the couch. Woke up at 4 am when my hideous child came stumbling out of his room and crawled onto the floor, because zombies were eating him and he needed daddy. I layed there looking down at them and was hit with way too many emotions. Both asleep and intertwined, Riot's little body wrapped right around daddy's, head on his chest with his nappy, curly, soft hair all draped all over. Girth on his back with one arm wrapped around him...I couldn't take it. I squirmed clumsily off the couch and mashed my big body right onto Girth's other side. Snuggled up into him as tight as I could with his other arm around me. Content. He reminded me of a pillar. A pillar of strength and safety and love. With him in the middle, holding us both, I felt that it completely summed up our lives. I am neurotic, unorganized, always going in 40 different directions...which is not much different than our 4 year old. Somehow though, Girth holds it together, us and himself. The other night putting Riot to bed, I yelled at him for being sassy and talking back, he yelled back at me that I hurt his heart. I cried. He cried. We sat on his bed crying and yelling at each other...Chris came in completely stunned. His big pregnant wife and his small toddler child crying and freaking out. How he remains sane, I will never know. He does though.
He closes his eyes alot. Shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling and mouths words. I have a feeling these may be coping mechanisms...  
Whatever gets him through each day with us though...because it's no easy feat.

Mine.