As I rolled over to my right side and received a few morning kicks from the little one growing inside me, I glanced at my two year old sleeping next to me in bed.
He normally sleeps in his own bed, all night long, but the night before last he awoke to soaked pajamas and bedding. I quickly changed him and the bedding, tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, again, at 3 am. All day yesterday he was off, and mommy instincts told me he wasn’t feeling well. He barely ate two bites all day, and fell asleep early in the afternoon. Waking around 4 pm crying, inconsolably. Finally I just rubbed his back and hummed the same few lines of Hush, Little Baby (don’t you cry) over and over and over again until he fell back asleep, not waking until 6 pm. Naturally this means he wasn’t going to bed at his regular 8 pm, so we just snuggled in bed all night watching the Disney channel. At 11:30 he couldn’t keep his eyes open and succumbed to sleep, allowing me to place him in his bed and close my own eyes.
That was, however, short-lived. At 4:15 am he was crying out mama and I went in to see him sitting up in bed. I brought him into bed with me and gave him a glass of milk and something to nibble on, his hunger evident by the rumbles of his little tummy. Within an hour he was back asleep, and so was I.
So here we are, back to the beginning, I, glancing at him, asleep next to me in bed. It was nearly 9, I was famished and didn’t want to waste the entire day in bed ( not that that doesn’t sound like a perfectly wonderful idea really). I tousled his hair and his eyes slid open slowly, only to close again, but I knew he was waking. Eventually I pulled him in close and gave him a squeeze, he threw his arm over me and gave me a kiss.
Happy mother’s day indeed.
Little things like that, are what really matter, to me anyway. Of course it would be nice to be spoiled by presents, flowers, whatever else is commercially acceptable for Mother’s Day but all I want is just a day of peace – which, if we’re being honest, it’s quite difficult for me to find peace no matter what. I’m an internally restless soul.
Yes, I argued with my husband this morning, cried over a few things and am trying my damnedest to ignore the mountain of dirty dishes that need to be washed (until tomorrow at least), but for the time it’s taken me to write this I acquired the peace I desperately craved. Even just a little bit of it. While the Mr. is out watching our son ride his bike around, it’s quiet. I love my son, and love to see his face light up while he’s on his Thomas the Train bike, but I am also quite happy to not be waddling after him today, instead sitting reclined on our sofa, able to focus on my own thoughts for the time being.
It’s not what you would call a “perfect” day, really it’s just like any other day save for that one moment when I woke up to see my sons face, lost in sleep, then his arm around me and a smile in his not-yet-fully-awake eyes. That moment is what made today extra special. It reminded me why I do everything I do, why I push through each day, the good ones and the bad ones. To see that love in my sons eyes, to know I am his mom, and he is amazing and therefor makes me feel amazing…
every day of the year.