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’m grouchy.

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.