da-nah-da. da-nah-da. da-nah-da. My alarm sings to me and I slap at it until it falls silent. I’m not ready for the morning. (I rarely am.) I love the dark of night. I get so much accomplished when the house is quiet and my world is still. If 6 o’clock is the witching hour, then midnight is my golden hour. But morning is here and there’s so much to do. I forgot to make lunches last night. (Again.)
It’s cold and I slip on flannel froggy pajama pants and wrap up in the matching shirt, not even caring that the sleep shirt I already had on is bunched up underneath. I am up, but not awake. I stumble to the kitchen and make a bottle. She’s not awake, but she will be soon. And three milk cups – one pink, one purple, one green.
I shuffle to the big kids’ room and take a moment to watch them sleep. I always hate to wake them. I pat Lydia on the back and she rolls over and I cannot resist the urge to slip into the bed beside her. I cuddle up with my big girl. She still fits perfectly in my arms. I hope that no matter how big she gets, she will always fit perfectly in my arms, but I know that’s not true. I am content for her to always fit perfectly in my heart. This I know to be true.
I find myself at that place where silence toes the line with sound. The ins and outs of her breath heavy and full. The rhythm so soothing that I begin to drift back off myself. And then she farts on me and giggles.
Okay, okay. I’m up.
LOL and yes I really did LOL!
Content for her to always fit in your heart.
Love. This.
My oldest is 9. He nowhere near fits in my arms anymore. And because of that I find it harder and harder to see him fitting in my heart. Because he’s growing up and getting attitude and doing more things that annoy me than not. Heh.
But when it’s quiet and the house is still I feel my heart and he’s right there in it. Always there. So yes. They’ll always fit, no matter how big they are.
It would be nice to stop the growing though, from time to time. 🙂
I hate waking my girls up too.