Grounded.

I’m rocking him back and forth in the white glider and softly singing my favorite James Taylor song.  A short afternoon nap and full bottle has made him sleepy and he looks at me with that same milk drunk look that he had when he was an infant and was half of his current size.  I smile at the memory and lean down to kiss the tip of his nose.

With that, his eyes snap open and a careful smile spreads across his face as if to say, “I’m not sleepy, Momma. Just letting you have this moment.”

I giggle and tickle him in that spot above his collarbone, the one that makes him throw his head back and laugh. 

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A few minutes earlier, Chessa found a flashlight. One of those fancy schmancy flashlights that I got as a Christmas gift at work. It’s got the company logo, of course, but it also has a radio, the bottom end flashes red and, I’m guessing if I read the directions, it might even make me breakfast. My two-year-old was fascinated with this flashlight. She spent 20 minutes playing in her room in the dark.

She turned it of f and yelled, “MOMMY! IT’S DAWK” and then with a flip of the switch, she’d laugh and say “NOW IT’S LIGHT! I’M OK!”  And repeat. Over and over.

Many nights her jokes lose their funny after the 13th or 14th time. But tonight, it did my heart good to see her so fascinated by something so simple. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Our lives have been so full of change lately and the weeks with my babies are flying by at the speed of light.  The memories of them as infants are locked away in pictures and in stories on this blog.  But occasionally, I get a glance, a glimpse where I can see their baby-ness and their growth all in one moment and I feel… grounded.  They give me the chance to take a breath and stay in the moment; to rock a little longer, to play my part in Chessa’s imaginary game, to read another book or make up another verse to Itsy Bitsy Spider. 

And those moments? They are what keep me going.