Owen whimpers. I pry my eyes open and wait to see if it's his real wake-up or just a whimper as he changes position. I give myself the okay to sleep just a little longer, seeing that he's already drifted off to sleep. My body moves in and out of sleep and rest, sleep and rest. Owen whimpers and grows continually restless and just as I go to lift him off of his comfy sheepskin in the cosleeper next to me, he lets out an audible cry.
Ian, who apparently has the ears of a Greater Wax Moth (just looked it up- apparently it has incredible hearing capabilities!), can detect an Owen cry from anywhere in the house. Immediately, my door clicks open and he asks, "Mama, are you awake?" At least it's not, "Mama, I have a poopy." That's a common wake-up call around here.
Caught red-handed, I am awake, with a crying baby in my hands and I am preparing to nurse. My body and eyes beg to stay in rest-mode, but my toddler is on to me. My eyes are, in fact, open and I am holding a baby that's interested in nursing and falling back to sleep. It happens every morning. Owen returns to sleep, but I have been caught and ensnared in the sleep-robber's trap ;)
We have a great routine in the mornings. Jim greets Ian in the morning, since he usually hasn't left for work yet. He gives him milk and an apple and turns on Pandora on our TV. Ian asks to listen to music. Jim gets ready to leave and says goodbye to Ian. Then he plays with toys until he hears sounds of life from within our bedroom, which leads us back to Owen's whimpers.
Normally we're into the seven o'clock hour before my door is opened, sometimes even eight. It's lovely. It hasn't always been like this, so I know how wonderful this is. When Owen first came home Ian's wake-up call was in the five o'clock hour. Yeesh. That was rough.
Groggy and ready for coffee, I lay Owen back down to slumber peacefully on his sheepskin while I rip myself out of bed to greet the day. Ian often has a book or two for me to read as soon as I admit that I am awake and we read those while snuggled in my bed.
Then it's time for coffee.
And, then it's time to make breakfast.
Breakfast is possibly my favorite meal of the day. As a pregnant or breastfeeding mom, eggs have become my staple breakfast in the morning. I love, love, love making scrambled eggs with added ingredients, delicious omelettes, or "Friday" eggs with bread or a slice of leftover pie. It's not a meal to skimp on, for me. It's the start of the day and it's to be savored.
Pandora still plays in the background, with comforting music.
Once breakfast is ready, Ian washes his hands, gets us utensils, and comes to sit with me at the table. We chat and eat until Owen rustles and I fetch him to join us at the table.
It's the only time of the day that seems to have any consistency.
After breakfast or during it's time for me to nurse Owen and we move to the couch. Ian brings me books to read, shows me toys, or plays near us.
Depending on the day, I start to feel pressure to clean up for guests, or to get the ball moving to get us out the door. Not this day, though. No PMO today, as we have any other Monday. So we settled deeper into the couch and into just being.
Pandora shuffled through. I looked up just as a song was starting to see, "It Won't Be Like This For Long" start. I listened to each word as I watched my boys move and play. The next one was "You're Gonna Miss This."
Ian turned to me and said, "Mama, you wanna dance with me? You wanna hold my hands and dance with me?"
There's nothing I would rather do in this moment.
And so we did. We danced. We did circles around the living room, we tapped our feet, and we held hands. He gazed up at me with eyes full of love and joy like all of his dreams were coming true.
It won't be like this for long.
I'm really going to miss these days.
I could not help but smile.
No tears this time,
just smiles and beaming at my children who think it's the bees knees to be in our arms,
holding our hands,
and dancing with them.