So we have decided ( more like he decided) to move Owen up to a real bed. So after a trip to Ikea and Target … Tuesday he snuggled in for a night’s sleep sans bars. At 4:30 a.m. I hear little tiny feet padding down the hall. I know what I should do. This is the beginning of the education process and I should take him immediately back to his bed, snuggle with him for a second and leave him on his own. However, like I mentioned, it is 4:30 am. The good parenting can start tomorrow. So I quickly scoop him up and place him in between me and Shaun. Within seconds his breathing relaxes and he goes back to sleep. I realize I really need to pee, and I might as well take him back to bed while I am up. At 6:17 am, a little crash and lots of crying. Owen fell off his big boy bed onto his legos below. Stepping on legos hurts like hell I can’t imagine falling onto them from a early morning stupor. Shaun, who should be getting up for work soon anyways goes off to rescue him. Still screaming, Owen once again is snuggled up next to me. It only takes a moment to calm him down and he is thankfully back to sleep. My mattress must have magic properties. Once Owen hits my mattress his breathing slows and you can just see his body relax. I know it is not the mattress so much as the proximity. His parents are right beside him. He immediately feels safe and loved and lulled to sleep by my snoring. I get that. I am almost 30 and I still desire that feeling. I remember being little and trying to sneak into my parents bed. When I was really desperate I would even lay on the floor beside them. We were never the warm or cuddly type, but I wasn’t scared if they were in the room. Knowing someone is there, right there is assuring. All the thoughts running though your head are quiet. I can’t help but compare this to our Father. Why aren’t we soothed so easily? If it is just a proximity thing all we must do is draw closer. Swallow some of that pride that says a grown up is too big to be scared or ask for help or crawl into their daddy’s bed. My son is not afraid to seek comfort, to snuggle, or to be afraid. Now someday soon I hope he gets used to his bed and can make it through the night without falling off or waking me up……but for now I’ll take my snuggles when I can.
I do the math on my hand. This is my 5th end of the year dance recital and you think by now I’d know to remember to pack hair spray and snacks. Someone hands my daughter a bag of chips and I want to hug her. I want to tell her that I am not a total failure, that we did not lose the wristbands, we wore the right color tights and that I do at least have a few bobby pins in my pocket. I can not handle the crazy that is backstage. It is a whirlwind of squealing girls in sequins, lycra and tulle. Moms wielding curling hours and more eye makeup than the entire MAC counter, I start to sweat in my ponytail. I quickly look away as an entire row of dancers peel off EVERYTHING for a quick costume change. I was not made for this. I unashamedly let an eight-year-old I have never met teach me how to get my daughter’s hair in place and I make the fastest exit I can. We sit in the balcony. Where we have been for hours. Dance recital day is all consuming. Rehersal, hair and finding the right ti...
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