Long days, late nights, and early mornings finally caught up with Christine yesterday. Unfortunately, the toddler brain isn't particularly sensitive to social cues of, "Dude, I'm still sleeping. It's 6:15. Why, oh why, are you awake?!" Apparently, Jonathan didn't get the memo about the time change.
For some reason, I felt unusually energetic and happy in the morning, so I did some solo parenting while Christine got a bit more sleep.Instead of turning on the "It's too early" babysitter, i.e., Shrek, I dumped Jonathan's toy box out on the living room floor. He played while I did some much-needed work in the kitchen, and checked in with me every few minutes. I gave him hugs, made him giggle, asked about the toys that he brought in with him, and chased him back into the living room with the tension-building, "Daddy's going to get you!"
He saw me eating a piece of pumpkin bread, so I sat on the kitchen floor to share it with him. Eye-to-eye, we smiled and took turns having bites of the sweet, fall creation. I made lunches, did dishes, and enjoyed his hugs and kisses. I played with him in his car seat before I saw him and mommy off to school and work.
Christine was exhausted when she got home from work, so I took care of Jonathan for the evening. He had "patsa," one of his favorite meals, for dinner. He thoroughly enjoyed his post-shower naked time, wizzing on the carpet three times. Why can't he just pee in the shower, like a normal person? Oh well, I just laughed. I put on his sweet-smelling baby lotion as he climbed around a laundry basket full of clothes like a jungle gym. Putting lotion on a naked toddler on the move can be like getting a cat to swallow a pill. Or maybe giving a pill to a cat is like trying to put lotion on a naked, squirmy toddler. But somehow it was fun anyway. I got his pajamas on, and lowered the lights. He laid in my lap and mostly let me brush his teeth, then took his customary turn with the toothbrush, which mostly consisted of chewing the bristles and swallowing all of the bubble gum flavored toothpaste (it's fluoride free, just for that reason).
He climbed right into our stuffed chair for story time, without fuss, and we read Russel, Sleepy Bear, Goodnight Moon, and I Love you, Good Night. It was a quiet, sweet time of interactive reading. He pointed out animals, the "yucky" mush in Goodnight Moon, and "beahhhhhhr," the teddy bear's teddy bear. He followed along in I Love You, Good Night, making all the silly sound effects that we'd taught him with each page. His head got heavier against my chest with each book that we read, and on the last page of I Love you, Good Night, his breathing was slow and deep.
I sat there with him, sleeping against my chest, and took in the moment. All was peaceful. I felt the love and trust of this amazing life resting against me, listened to his breathing, and felt the occasional sleepy twitch. I felt so in love with that boy. Days like yesterday are the treasures that I hold on to throughout this journey of parenting. They help me to re-focus when I'm losing my grip, getting frustrated, being interrupted for the umpteenth time, feeling like a martyr. These days won't last fovever--I mean, I don't think I'll be putting lotion on and reading stories to him when he's 23 years old. So I'll enjoy the time now, when he's 23 months old, and our relationship is still simple and sweet.
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