Friday, April 27, 2012
Your child falls asleep in your arms.
You move slowly and carefully to lay him down in his bed. As his head hits the pillow, he unconsciously reaches out and grabs on to your shirt, forcing you to stay near.
This happens numerous times.
You don't mind.
Because even though you could be writing, or editing, or getting to sleep yourself, you understand that things like this won't last forever. All too soon those little hands will be big hands, and for all you know, they might be pushing you away instead of holding you close.
This happened to me last night.
Lately, Monkey has been pretty clingy toward me. I feel bad for Daddy because whenever Daddy's holding him he almost always reaches for me. Last night we laid him down in bed and his cries were different than normal - he sounded scared instead of just annoyed.
So, even though I was in the middle of editing a manuscript, I went in and held him. I stayed for nearly half an hour. I don't do this often, because he's a very good sleeper and will usually go down on his own. But, on occasion, letting him fall asleep in my arms is reassuring. Even though he's growing up, he's still my little boy. He still needs me. Because I'm still his Mommy.
It's the little things that make up the biggest things.
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait 'til tomorrow
For babies grow up, we've learned, to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs, dust, go to sleep;
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.
Author of YA and MG speculative fiction. Gryffindor. Mommy. Fangirl. Wandmaker.