My son, T. 2.5 is going through a stage now where he will invariably end up in my bed sometime between 12:15am and 12:30am. He does not go to my husband; he wants nothing to do with anyone but me. He will lay right on top of me as if I am his bed and settle in and be snoring in moments.
I’m not sleeping much.
I should probably nip this in the bud right this very minute.
But I won’t.
T. is very likely my last baby – and not a baby at that. This is a phase. It will go quickly. His baby hands will grow, he will not want to cuddle, or to be held. I work full-time, and I am missing out on a lot: it is a sacrifice I make because I want to make sure he has what he needs in life, but those moments that are ticking away that I am not a part of are very much on my mind. I want that link, and that bond with him. I want him to come to me. I want to be there for him. Time goes so, so fast.
I know I am a little insane. I complain every morning when my neck hurts, and when I haven’t slept. I am not an easy mark, I am typically the disciplinarian, and I know that I am supposed to put him back in his bed. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda.
I will do it tomorrow…or the next day. But for this morning, I am calling that time with him the blessing that it is, annoying or not. These moments are mine.