We've been having some sleep issues in this house lately. What with a time change, a new big-boy bed and deciding that he'd like to hold it for the potty now, Mr. A has been waking up a lot at night and needing a lot of attention. To say we've been a bit tired would be an understatement, but we've been through things like this before and we know very well it's not forever and we'll all be sleeping again soon.
That being said, I did have a wonderfully delicious 8 hours last night, only to be woken up at 6:30 by Nik coming into our bedroom with Ambrose. The babe had woken up shortly after we'd gone to sleep, at 11, and Nik just spent the night in his room to tend to him when he woke. I took over and brought Ambrose downstairs so that Nik and Paxton could sleep.
While it was very tempting to turn on Laurie Berkner so Ambrose could dance while I woke up fully, I had already received a talking to from Paxton about how I shouldn't turn on the TV until he's awake since it always wakes him up. Fair enough.
So we sat on the floor together, flipping through books and looking at puzzles and playing with little light up toys that make music and stuff like that.
At one point, though, my little bean realized that he was hungry for breakfast.
"Bar?" he asked hopefully, pointing to the stairs which lead straight up to the kitchen.
I did a quick mental check of the cupboards.
"No, sweetie, no bar. We at the last one a couple days ago."
His whole face scrunched up, eyes close to tears, mouth contorting. His body was stiff and his fists clenched.
"Sooo baaaad!" he called out.
"You want a bar so bad?" I asked.
"Ya," he nodded, relaxing and starting to pout.
He sat down on my lap, leaning his head into my neck, and just breathed there for several seconds.
It was like a flash, a vision, and image stuck in my mind.
My little boy no longer little, all grown up and asking for something and realizing he couldn't have it. Disappointment, sorrow, anger... so many emotions could follow, as they do in toddlers. But I could see my little boy, now a grown man, letting it roll off of him, controlling himself, changing his plan easily and readily.
I could see this tiny boy as an adult all too easily.
And as an adult, he won't need to me to cuddle him when he's disappointed that we're out of cereal bars, or when he bumps his head on the underside of the table, or when it's his brother's turn to play with a toy he wants. He'll be able to regulate it himself.
And so, I held him. I held this little man, all thirty pounds of him, as he lay against me sad and upset and trying to hold it in and seeking comfort to help make his world okay again.
And a minute later, he left my lap to sit on the floor. He picked up a toy and in the sweetest voice he called, "mama pay wiv me," which is somewhere between a statement and a command.
So we played and we cuddled and we ate cold cereal and leftover home fries and a couple hours later we went to the store together where I bought him a box of cereal bars, which he happily opened in the cart.
It's amazing to me that there was a time I was that little, a time my mother, my grandmother, my great grandmother, and all people on this Earth, were that little, that helpless. It's almost as amazing as the fact that one day he won't be so, one day he'll be big and strong and while he may still need me, it won't be for everything and anything. People start small and typically grow up. It's... amazing.
And I'm so, so, so incredibly lucky to be able to take part in it all.
Lily in a loafing barn
2 days ago