In tidying up some old notes I had made a while back, I found something scribbled in my journal. After reading it, I wondered why I hadn’t posted it on my blog. I guess life took over or something and I just never got around to it.
Reading it now, I’m reminded of that night, just before Christmas and how my son and I sat by the Christmas tree. It was such a peaceful moment. I felt so close to him.
Going back over the pages in my notebook gives me a glance into a moment of happiness or peace, sometimes even of frustration and anger and it shows me how far we’ve come together, how all the little day-to-day changes add up to new relationships, different relationships with slightly older children and slightly older parents. It kind of makes me sad that my little guy has grown so much since Christmas even though it was barely four months ago. But then it makes me happy thinking of how much he has grown and learned in those short months. He has recently started snapping his fingers and oh what a joyful feeling burst from my heart when he showed me. I’m not sure it was the snapping fingers that excited me as much as the look on his face; the look of pure pride and joy in finally having made a snapping sound.
But I digress. Here’s what I found in my notebook:
I sat down to write and started with this:
“Not feeling particularly motivated here of late. It’s Christmas and I have a ton of things to do (but who doesn’t?)”
It was not an inspired beginning. But then my little guy woke up and sounded distressed. So to his cribside I scurried. I hushed him for a bit and tickled his back. Then I noticed that his face looked darker in the dark room than it should have. I opened his door a little wider and, from the light coming from the bathroom, saw what can only be described as a bloody mess. Poor little guy. He’s prone to nighttime nosebleeds. They don’t always wake him up, but this one did.
It took two of us to clean him and the bed up. But in those moments of washing him and cuddling him and reassuring him that everything was going to be fine, I felt calm and comforted in the knowledge that I could take care of this little guy; that I would make it right for him and he would drift back to sleep feeling clean and safe.
We sat quietly by the Christmas tree, looking at the lights and rocking back and forth to the tune of Frère Jacques. He asked me to tickle him and we sat like that for what seemed like forever but was really just a few moments of quiet.