Good Night Kisses

Good Night Kisses

Who can ever forget those early days of dating when the evening was coming to a close and you wondered, Will I get a kiss at the door? OR WORSE. Oh my God! How do I get away from this creepy person? I don't want to shake hands, let alone kiss him.

Fortunately, or unfortunately (however you want to look at it), the rules to date night pecks don't change when you find yourself single again after many years of marriage. But no matter what, kissing in my life has been an important ritual.

When I was a little girl, my brothers and I had to travel from sibling to sibling kissing each other good-night. Between the ages of three and eight  that wasn't too bad. We were young and actually liked one another. But then came those years where anyone of the opposite sex had cooties. Those caresses of the lip came with a big sigh, a rolling of the eyes, and inflicted upon the recipient quickly. Sometimes if you blinked, you didn't even know they happened.

Family life in high school was the same only now it felt somewhat incestuous. I was suppose to be kissing boys in parked cars and behind the bleachers, not my brothers. On top of the grossness of it all, they were developing new body smells and I had to hold my breath or plug my nose as I planted one on each cheek without gagging. One whiff of Old Spice masking the pungent odor of athletic sweat nearly knocked me over.

College arrived and I was finally out of the house. It was time to experiment and let loose with non-family members. I was hoping for more frequency, but instead I seemed to be every male student's buddy or best friend. Swapping spit with these guys again felt like it was against the law, so I spent four rather dry years waiting for some action. Then came my children and the kissing has never stopped.

Yes, I have to admit I'm one of those sappy moms that couldn't keep her hands off her babies. Getting my children to bed at night took forever because it was my last chance in the day to hold onto them. It was my way of saying "you're safe," but, more importantly, I wanted them to know they were adored.

For years, as I tucked them tightly into their Power Ranger sheets or Barbie comforters, I found my way under the covers too and exchanged butterfly kisses all over their sweet, innocent faces. When that became a little too weird for their liking in the preteen years, I'd pretend I had something extremely important that needed to be whispered in their ear. I'd lean over and get one in quick before they turned their heads and told me to go away.

But late at night, when the house was finally still from the raucous day and all that could be heard was rhythmic, peaceful breathing, I'd creep into their rooms, softly stroke their maturing heads and kiss them one last time with the prayer, "Please God, always keep them safe."

In the teen years, it was no different. I had to get the last kiss in, whether they liked it or not, but this proved to be more difficult. I was getting older, going through menopause and needed my sleep. They seemed to get younger by the moment with unbridled energy that kept them up late at night and occasionally pursued activities that caused concern for all parents. Wondering what they had been up to on any particular night, my need for smooching took on a new meaning.

As each child re-entered our home, no matter what time in the night, it was obligatory that they come into my bedroom, wake me up and give me a final kiss before heading off to la la land. Just as I was required to plant one on my brothers years before, they had to let me have one so they could pass my "sniff" test. If there was even a hint of peppermint gum on their breath - they were busted.

My kids are adults now. They no longer answer to me. They make their own choices, right or wrong and when they spend the night, I don't have the power to tell them what time to be home. But the tradition remains the same. Even if it's into the wee hours of the morning, one-by-one they tip toe into my room, kiss me on the cheek, and say, "I'm home." I then sleep peacefully for I know they're safe.

It's funny how simple traditions that start innocently turn into something incredibly deep and heart warming over the years. It's never too late to start one either. Affection is something we all talk about, but may have a hard time showing. Kisses and hugs are simple to give, but it's also a gift you give yourself.

My girls are women. My son towers over me and you know what? I still can't keep my hands off them. I guess old habits just die hard.