The Night My Daughter Tucked Me In
My 12-year-old daughter put me to bed last night.
She did. She tucked me in—probably better than I’ve ever tucked her in.
She doesn’t know (yet) what a gift she gave me.
I do all the things for my family, all the time. This isn’t me playing the martyr; it’s just the reality of being a single parent who hasn’t exactly enforced a consistent chore chart. My kids, 12 and 15, do a lot for themselves, but not much for me.That’s not a knock on them—it just made what my daughter did last night that much more meaningful.
It’s rare for me to be on the receiving end of care. And even more rare for me to let it in.
Not only do I manage most of the day-to-day alone, but I’ve also worked hard to stop the habit of overdoing. I try not to take on more than I can handle. Still, life asks a lot. And if you're trying to be a conscious adult—like I am—it can feel like you're always "working on something." Always processing. Always evolving.
Sometimes I envy the people who can just live without questioning every moment. Go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, repeat. That seems... peaceful, in a way. But that’s not me. I’m cursed with the blessing of feeling things deeply.
I’m not overly emotional, but I’m deeply tuned in. I want to connect with people below the surface. I don’t just want to know what you do—I want to know how it feels to be you, doing it. I listen with my whole self—my heart, my body, my intuition. I’m listening not just to your words, but to what’s behind and beneath them.
It makes for a dense, rich, wholehearted life. And I’m grateful for that. I’ve come to understand that I come by it honestly—my family of origin is the same way. We listen with our hearts. We care about how you’re doing, not just what you're doing.
So when my daughter offered to tuck me in last night—because I was tired and she wanted to stay up later—I let her. That’s not something I usually do. I’m conscious not to lean on my kids emotionally or make them responsible for my needs. But this wasn’t that. This was something else.
This was a gift.
She did it so gently, so intuitively. She cozied me in with extra pillows, pulled the blanket up just right, and made sure I had all my sleep essentials—eye mask, ear plugs, body pillow. And then, the part that made me want to cry: she brought me one of her favorite stuffies to cuddle. It stayed in my arms all night.
But what touched me most? She remembered that my feet are always cold when I go to bed. So she got a pair of fuzzy socks from my drawer and gently slid them onto my feet—while I was already tucked in.
Have you ever had someone put socks on you as an adult?
It felt... like love. Like care. Like the universe saying, “Here. Let me hold you for a minute.”
Fuzzy socks in bed might be weird to some, but to me they feel like a small, tender ritual. After a long day of standing, moving, mothering, they wrap my feet—and my heart—in comfort.
That night, I let my daughter take care of me. I let myself receive.
I’m learning that the flow of love, abundance, and support is always there—it’s just a matter of whether I’m open enough to allow it in.
Last night, I was. And she met me there, with fuzzy socks and a favorite stuffy.
It was one of the most nurturing moments I’ve had in a long time.
If this story touched something tender in you—if you, too, are learning how to soften, receive, and let yourself be held, I invite you to experience it for yourself. My latest YouTube video is a short, nurturing meditation designed to help you open to care, ease, and presence. You don’t have to do it all alone. Let yourself receive.
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