He's. so. cute.
Lately, neither he nor his 3 year old brother have been sleeping much - and it has been a marathon of sleep deprivation these last weeks, but as i walk into his room, and behold his tiny self standing sorrowfully in the middle of the room, my heart softens, and i sigh - scooping him up in my arms.
It's dark - but the light from the street lamps outside illuminate just the outline of my little one - in his elephant jammie bottoms and the tiniest muscle shirt known to man.
He cries and cries... i shush and pat and comfort...
People think that because i've had seven children, i know how to do this perfectly - they assume i've got this mama thing down pat... They assume wrong.
i'm just as inept as i ever was - singing, praying out loud, "Oh, God - let me sleep!" and begging my tiny one to surrender to slumber.
He kicks and thrashes and i grab his little legs to stop them from pummelling me and in my impatience, i grab too hard.
"Huuuuurrrrrt!" he cries - and i want to cry with him.
& as i run my hands over his tiny form in the bed next to me - i'm overcome.
He's still so small.
i choose love - again and again and again... i choose love. i kiss him, nuzzling my face into his damp cheeks and sweaty fuzzy head.
"Oh, honey - mama's sorry - mama loves you. Let's rest now - let's snuggle and sleep..."
i offer a cup of cold water - and after a little drink, he falls into restless unconsciousness.
This morning, i felt groggy... He was up before anyone else in the house, and i lay on his bed like a zombie while he prattled around, playing with toys, pulling my hair, breathing in my face.
Tiny, tender one... He won't be little for long. One day he will sleep through the night - and won't cry out for his mama.
And then i'll be glad that i chose love.
Tomorrow is Friday. i'm so ready...