The first week of being a mom I dreaded the night. I will be honest that I was nervous about sleeping through Titus’ crying because I was too tired and sleeping too deeply to hear him. I was not a fan of waking up multiple times a night, and I was hoping that poor Adam could actually get a good night’s sleep for his long days at work.
Then the days would come. Life was getting back to normal after the first week of being home with my little man, and I was back to trying to accomplish all the various tasks of being a wife and homemaker. Days were/are busy. I can’t just sit still the way I want to. Titus has to be set down. I have laundry to do, dishes to wash, food to cook, work to do, … the list is never-ending. So, Titus spends a lot of time stretched out on the couch, snuggled in the Boppy, and/or listening to Pandora (he likes a wide variety of music).
Those times I am holding him I’m often multi-tasking. Tonight I managed to make
eggplant parmesan for dinner while holding him. Call me crazy, but it’s worked for those times that he won’t settle in the front carrier.
However, as my little man continues to grow, I’ve come to this one realization: I really love the night.
At night, when he’s snuggled against me, and I’m sitting in bed or in the rocking chair feeding him, I have no other place to be. I have no tasks to complete. I have no reason to put him down. It’s just me, my man Titus, his daddy sleeping next to us, and our Heavenly Father. Just us.
I don’t even care that I’m not sleeping when the rest of this side of the world is. I don’t even care that I’ve not had a full night’s sleep since September 11th. I don’t care at all. Time is going quickly; my baby is growing too fast; and I am treasuring every (yes, every) minute of holding him.