sleep like a baby

We are having a great time. We are laughing and crying and eating honey bunnies to our heart's content. I think that Alice has a crush on The Boy. The Wife is doing her best to vie for Alice's affections with food and laughter and much much kindness to Whimsy. These are all good things. But tonight I want to talk about sleep.

Sleep is a treacherous and wily topic. Particularly now, in the trenches of motherhood. There are a lot of opinions out there. I don't want to talk about the opinions. I don't even want to talk about the issues of sleep, be it in animal (my child), mineral (the sleep that's gathering in my own eyes), or vegetable (the thing I'm going to turn into if I don't get some good sleep soon).

Alice had some trouble of the sleeping variety on Sunday night. I went in to the room we're sharing (The Boy having so gallantly given up his room to us, what a southern gentleman)--- each time to comfort her, to soothe her, to lay her back down. Her eyes would close and her body would go limp as only a wee one's can. I would lay her back down and leave the room. Within twenty minutes or so she'd be up again. It was getting late anyway, and The Wife and I were wrapping things up so I joined Alice in the bedroom. After putting her back in the crib a third time and having her pop right back up, I decided to just bring her into bed with me.

And that's when I started to think about these moments. There aren't that many of them, even when it might seem like there are. Even when it might seem like my arm is going to fall off from the sheer weight of her, even when I can't be brought to explain (for the bajillionth time) that really, I can't be in two places at once and sometimes I just need a minute of quiet time to myself. Even then. In the scope of a life, there aren't that many moments when a mother can soothe her child and hold her in her arms and nestle close to her sleeping body.

She smells like peaches and sweet pea. She breathes softly on my cheek. She moves her body until it is up against mine - even the tiniest bit to just touch me and know that I'm next to her. She wants me close, right now, all the time. And who am I to begrudge her of that? Before too long, she isn't going to want any of it. She is going to want to explore the world in ever-widening circles and again, who am I to begrudge her of that?

I am doing everything I can to enjoy these moments while they last. I don't always do that very fully or very well. But I'm trying.

It was a good night of sleep for both of us.