Friday, January 9, 2015

these tired days

In the quiet darkness I hear you stir over the sound of white noise coming from the monitor. With eyes half opened I watch you roll around. So small in your big crib. God I am tired. Eyelids so heavy I cant seem to hold them open. No light creeps in the window only the soft glow of this little screen. It must not be morning. Not that it makes a difference to you. My eyes close as you settle back in. I wrap myself a little tighter in the blankets and pray you sleep just a little while longer.

I wake again to the sound of your voice. Your wide eyes staring right into the lens of the camera. I know that look. Its the face you greet the day with... but God am I tired?! I listen to you babble as I lay warm under the soft down comforter. I struggle to stay awake. The tiniest bit of sun peeks through the gap in the shades and I know it is time to get up. I begrudgingly leave the warmth of my bed. Wipe the sleep out of my eyes and stumble over to you. Tiny arm stretched out. Waiting for me to free you from the confines of your crib. I am cold and oh so tired. Your eyes full of light as you smile at the sight of my face. I lift you and snuggle you tight to my chest. I breathe in that pure sweet scent that only babies naturally possess. You lay your head on my shoulder. I feel your heart beat against mine. You are so warm and fit so perfectly in my arms. The love is palpable. And although I want nothing more than to savor this fleeting moment you have another agenda. You wriggle and squirm. I bend to put you down. And you hit the ground running. What I wouldn't give to have your energy.

I wake your brothers who greet the day much like me... with reluctance. I feel their plight. I head downstairs with you to start breakfast. I will let the smell of bacon and pancakes coax them out of their slumber. I cook as you empty the kitchen drawers. Pots and pans become drums and symbols. I watch as you explore and make as much noise as humanly possibly. I yawn and wait for the coffee to be ready. I hear little foot steps make their way down the stairs. You rush to see your brothers as if it has been an eternity. I set the table and put breakfast out. We all sit to eat. You are only in your highchair for minutes before you toss your food on the floor and again stretch your arms out for me. Oh for god sake Ry cant you sit for more than 5 minutes and just eat! But I already know the answer to that question. I inhale my meal before you are hysterical. Take  you out of the chair and set you down. As I begin to clear the table you wrap yourself around my leg. I think to myself really?! Really Ry?! Just give  me a friggin minute! Just a minute to myself. A minute to clean off the table without you whining or hanging on me! Is that too much to ask?! I look down at your sad face, pouty lip and all and feel guilty for that thought. I pick you up and do the rest of the cleaning with you happily on my hip.

As the day goes on the table fills with endless art supplies. The dog tears tiny pieces of paper in an effort to get anyone's attention and a little play time. Darth Vader and Spider Man sprint though the living room. Bouncing off couch cushions and you laugh with delight as you watch them play. I clean one mess up only to find another. And another and yet another. It never ends.... the picking up. The straitening out. The putting away. The cleaning up. You keep a watchful eye on my every move. Never letting me out of your sight. I sit down to help Shark with Legos and you crawl on my lap. Knock over the castle we just put together and try to eat the pieces you can grab as I rush to pick them up.

Your rubbing your eyes and twirling the single curl on the back of your head which lets me know you are finally tired too. I leave your brothers to play with Dad so I can take you upstairs and rock you in our favorite chair. I sing silly songs. You look at me like you are so in love. Like there some secret you want to tell only me... but there are no words. We rock. I sing. You hum. I am so tired. The steady gentle motion of this chair feels like a drug. You drift off and so do I. I muster up the energy to get up and place you so softly in your crib. You are unaffected by the transfer. I stand there staring at the perfection of you. So beautiful. Peaceful. Angelic. I day dream of napping as soundly as you but there are things to do.

Laundry has to be done. Dishes are waiting to be washed. Dinner needs to be made. A table has to be set. I kiss your forehead and leave you in this dreamy state. I squeeze 4 hours of chores into 2 in the hopes I will get just a few minutes... to sit... and do nothing.  I stretch and yawn and collapse on the couch. I close my eyes. But only for a moment. I hear you calling me. Mummmmm.... mummmmmaa....mmmmmuuuummmm. I am so tired I just need a few minutes more.  Tired as I am your calling my name and I can not ignore the sound of your wee voice. I peel myself off the couch and climb the steps to you. The doors opens. You stand and lean over the crib to see who coming for you. Again just like this morning you flash that smile that melts my heart. Your arms reach for mine. I hold you tight and soak up every bit of you I can.

The table is set and dinner is ready. Tiny fingers paint with red sauce. Spaghetti hangs from your head like the wig on a clown and I can't help but giggle with you. As usual you go from the high chair to the bath tub. You splash and dump buckets of water. Bubbles and toys spill over the side of the tub leaving the floor wet and slippery just like you. I marvel at your petite yet perfect body. Still in amazement that something so beautiful was made in me. The water is starting to cool. Your reach for me. I wrap you up like a burrito in your bath towel and carry you inside. Dry you off and massage your soft skin with lavender oil. Get you dressed in your precious feet pajamas. You take off on the wood floor like an ice skater. Slipping and gliding over to where your brothers are. Falling on top of them. You laugh. Roll. Giggle. Squeal to keep their attention. Not for long. You stumble back over to me. Rubbing your eyes. Resting your sleepy head on my shoulder. I look down at you with my tired eyes then carry you to bed.

You settle in for the night and I go to finish cleaning. I am so tired. Your brothers are not. I sit and draw with them. Listen to silly stories and get them ready for bed. Fight with them to brush their teeth and god forbid floss. I read them one more book. Struggling to keep my eyes open until the end. They get in bed and give me kisses. Finally the house is quiet. No little hands to hold or faces to wipe. No toys to pick up or juice getting spilled. It is peaceful and still. And thank god because I am just so....

Tired from not having a night of uninterrupted sleep for the last 15 months. Tired from the hectic-ness of a house filled with the laughter and antics of three little boys and 2 dogs. My arms are tired from holding you night and day. And carrying what feels like at times the weight of the world. But quite honestly I only want to not be so tired for you because I am afraid that in this tired state I am daydreaming about sleep instead of living in the moment with you, and Aiden, and Shark. I am exhausted even more from the worry that these days are passing me by way too fast. I know that these tired arms will miss the weight of you as they do that of your brothers. These tired eyes will have plenty of time to rest when you are grown... and then wide awake I will long for these days with an ache in my heart to just go back... to this... to you reaching for me... wrapping yourself around my legs... back to these tired days when I was still the center of your universe.





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