There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be.
I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.
We don't have a strict bedtime routine. Our kids go to bed about 9pm. Some would say that is too late. Let them say it. Our night is packed and we both work out of the home. If we didn't allow a little extra time at night we would hardly see each other. We also don't do baths every night. I know, gasp, right?! My boys have eczema. It isn't bad, but each of them have it in little patches from time to time. So, we do baths every other night. I say my goodnights to the oldest two and go off to getting Weston to bed. Dale stays with the big boys. Sometimes there are stories. There are usually prayers. Sometimes there are laughs. Sometimes big giggles. Sometimes there are tears. There are always kisses and hugs. Sometimes it takes just a couple of minutes. Sometimes much longer.
While Dale gets them down I have my time with my baby. When Weston was still in the swaddling stages I would take him to our bed and lay him at the foot of it. With his blanket perfectly spread out beneath him and one corner neatly folded I would carefully lay his tired body down. I would wrap and tuck and smoothly rub from his shoulders to his belly. Like a little mummy he would lay there with just his cute little face staring at mine. I would slowly kiss his forehead. Then his nose and then his tiny little chin. I would melt every time his long eyelashes would meet. Top to bottom. Slow and relaxed. Still. Calm. Slow. Loved. I think he enjoyed each kiss as much as I did. I wouldn't want to pick him up to take him to bed. I could cuddle that baby boy forever just staring at that perfectly soft smooth skin and those dark brown eyes.
Time felt as if it was slowed down for once. A time I took advantage of and soaked in because I knew how quickly it would slip through my fingers. I charised those times.
Once he got passed this stage bedtime started getting harder. He was over cuddling and I ached for that quiet peaceful time with him. Now, he's back to wanting kisses. He wants cuddled more and more each night.
Early this morning when I was the only one in the house on my feet I peeked into his room. As soon as he heard the door he popped up never letting go of his soft blue blanket. He rubbed the blanket on his face as he tried to force his tired eyes open. I held him. Cuddled his warm, tired, heavy, body. He found a place for his head to perfectly fit on my shoulder. The blanket still clutched in his hand and rubbing the place between his upper lip and right cheek bone. I was brought back to his swaddling days. He sighed as much as I felt like sighing. I didn't want to put him back down. Perfection is what I call it. The reason why I wanted to be a mom. The love I wanted to feel and to give. The heart I wanted by my side.
A dream come true and more blessings than I deserve.