Perchance to sleep
One of the things I missed most as a newbie parent was sleep.
Oh, to sleep a straight eight - no, six. Oh, just give me four - hours, with no interruptions, and I will change the baby's diapers with a smile, dance as I mop the pureed spinach slop from the floor, and never complain about anything else.
Oh, I love to sleep, and - upon waking - luxuriating in a tangle of blankets and stretching like a cat, taking my sweet, sweet time. Now that the boys are older, on some weekends, after my morning stretch, I can even go back to sleep. Yes, I know, a miracle.
In my family, sleep is a talent. We can sleep standing in a corner, sitting up, open-mouthed, anytime the car is running. One time my mom even woke herself up when she snored (sleeping in the car, as usual).
"What was that?" she asked with a start. "Was I asleep?"
My sons know to nudge me with an elbow when their bedtime stories start to sound like this: "Jack pointed to the pyramid picture in the Egypt book and the turn left did you see transparent okay."
"Mom!" they will chorus, and the Magic Tree House comes back into focus.
The day Firstborn Son was born, my husband woke up every few hours just to check that Joseph was breathing. He had a whole routine: put face close to baby's, feel the breath, put hand to baby's chest, make sure it's moving.
"Would you like a mirror, make sure it fogs up?" I asked helpfully.
Of course, there were those nights when we spent hours rocking and singing and bouncing him to sleep, begging him to sleep.
We had so many things left undone, and when Firstborn finally nodded off, we spent just as much time standing over him, hushed and admiring this perfect lump snuggled on his side, one fat cheek resting on both chubby hands.
Sleep-addled parents of newborns, take heart. This, too, will pass. You will again take showers and change out of your pajamas before 4 p.m. You will brush your hair again.
What won't change is how you look over your sleeping children at night, before finishing the dishes or checking e-mail, before watching something other than the Disney Channel.
Hubby and I still look at our boys sleeping, their legs splayed outside their blankets, their bodies usually curled up on their sides.
We always marvel at how big they're getting. We spread our arms out silently and shake our heads: "Where did our no-neck, thunder thighs, Jell-O roll baby go?"
We point out how Joseph's nose is exactly like his papa's, how Sandro's big toe is twitching, and how his eyes don't close completely when he sleeps, so when you check on him it feels like you're playing a game. You sway to the right like a boxer and see if he starts: "Boo, Mama! I was awake all along!"
Hubby always looks at me, our two boys in beds between us. He smiles and sweeps his hand over his face in the American Sign Language gesture for "beautiful."
"My boys," he whispers to me, in the same fierce tone his sons use to claim their books or Legos.
And because in the morning I know that our boys will look for Mama first thing when they awake, hair askew, eyes still heavy with sleep, faces swollen with rest, I give them to him for the night. Down for the count. Safe in their beds. OK. Good night.
This entry brought tears to my eyes! This perfectly captures motherhood! I still check about three or four times a night to make sure my baby is breathing. I can't help it!
My 5-month-old son just started saying, "Hi." On Sunday morning, I heard him babbling to himself in bed and I went to get him. When he saw my face, it broke into a wide smile and he said, "hi." Laughing, I scooped him up and squeezed him tight. Motherhood is magical!