Tuesday, May 25, 2010

a moment with Paul

Keepsake moments.  We live for them as parents.  We can wipe a sticky, after-meal floor three times a day for what seems like forever, and suddenly, one keepsake moment puts it all in perspective.  Kids are dreamy.  Fun.  Hilarious.

Never-ending messy floors?  Who cares!  I'm blessed!  Blessed!  This experience is Out-Of-This-World Wonderful!

Keepsake moments can never be planned.  They just happen.  When they're especially delicious, our minds naturally want to recreate them in subsequent days or seasons.  How can something so wonderful not become the norm?

 This morning, I had a doozy of a keepsake.

Beth awoke at 6:30 a.m., dragging me out of bed with her.   Her sleeping habits have changed again.  Back to night nursings and late evening wake ups, with lousy naps during the day.  I mind the unpredictability more than I mind the wake ups, actually.

My last beauty sleep occurred eight years ago, in case you're interested.

On the positive side, my little one recently gave up early rising for a more respectable 7:15 a.m.

I held out hope.  Would my night-person body hit the jackpot?  Would this trend continue?

I refer you to my second paragraph, in which she drags me out of bed at 6:30 a.m.  Is she my darling daughter, or my boot camp instructor?  Definitely both.  As I write this, I can hear her.  It's nearly midnight and she's on her second wake up.

Back to this morning.......

...After her diaper change, I tried cuddling her on the playroom couch.  Kid cuddles hit the spot when Momma is drowsy.  I crave them.  My brood is one of movers and shakers though, so for the most part, I'm often disappointed.  Beth is fun and sweet, but her cuddles are as brief as a hidden package of chocolate chips.  Here one minute, gone the next.  If Beth could talk well, she'd say, "Okay, Momma.  Cuddles.  But briefly.  I'm busy ya know."

Enter Paul, my part-time mover and shaker.  He's been known to sit around at times and stare off into space.  Hence, the part-time designation.

He joined us at 7:00 a.m., while the other siblings continued slumbering.  Seeing Momma drowsy, he took the cue and climbed under the blanket with me.

Oh, what a gift!  That child's wrap-around, boa constrictor cuddles!  May they never end, Lord!

Now Baby Beth wanted to cuddle.  It's her pattern.  No one, and I do mean no one, can come between Beth and her Momma.  Even the sight of Momma changing big sister will irk this jealous baby.  She actually climbs into my lap during sister's diaper changes!  I tell her I love her and then I disentangle myself. Foiled, she plants herself on Mary's head, to discourage us from interacting, I suppose.  Mary, all sugar and spice, takes it in stride and giggles.

Diaper changes are special to children; they equate them with love.  Reaching that coveted milestone, toilet training, is complicated for them.  Four children in, I finally get this.

Anyhow, back to the couch with my boa-constrictor boy......

....Paul and I started giggling away at a collection of children's poems.  Beth climbed on top of us, as though our cuddled bodies were a mountain.   She grabbed the book, running her finger over the words and mumbling as if to "read".  Then she giggled, as she'd heard us do.  This would last a minute, and then she'd go play briefly.

Meanwhile, Paul and I read the whole book of poems, giggling and cuddling, cuddling and giggling.  I squeezed him repeatedly for giving me my best morning in a long time.

I found myself wishing we could cuddle and read, just like this, every morning.

But keepsake moments can't be planned.  Only captured.  Enjoyed.  Lived.  Remembered.

Usually, the older three wake up simultaneously.  Special morning times with my boa-constrictor are rare.

The funny book, if you're interested, was this:

 My Dog Does My Homework!  An Exclusive Collection of Poems by Shel Silverstein, Jack Prelutsky, Eve Merriam, and Many More.  

With a Special Introduction & Poem Pointers by Jon Scieszka

I purchased it through the Scholastic school market, years ago.  We laughed the most at this poem, which is anonymous:

Vegetarian Poem

Do you carrot all for me?
My heart beets for you.
With your turnip nose
And your radish face,
You are a peach.
If we cantaloupe
Lettuce marry.
Weed make a swell pear.

Anonymous/Folk Rhyme

It's late now and I probably won't get to that folding pile.  But I captured something here--something special, to feast on in my empty nest years.  I chose the better thing, even though those clothes start their fourth night of basket dwelling.

It's never about the laundry piles or the sticky floors, is it?

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