One sneaks in on little tippy toes, hoping he can make his appearance without waking mommy bear. He slowly climbs on the bed and under the covers and I feel his little body curl into mine. His little hand finds its way to my cheek so he can hold his face close to mine. I should say go back to bed, but I won’t. And once he’s back in a deep sleep his feet will inevitably find their way to my ribs like it was their long lost home. He will toss and turn and be the only one that actually enjoys their sleep the rest of the night. But it won’t be like this for long.
The other one wakes in the middle of the night and sings me the midnight song of her people. It’s not a gentle holler for her mamma, but an instant siren that shrieks through the house, sending everyone to their feet at a moments notice. I open her nursery door and the siren stops as she flings her “blank blank” over her shoulder and pops her thumb in her mouth. I stumble back to bed with her on my hip, and as we lay down she tries her very hardest to make sure every inch of her body is touching me in some way. The slightest move and her eyes shoot open to make sure I’m not sneaking away. Her hand has a tight hold on my shirt for an added security measure. I should put her back in her crib, but I won’t. It won’t be like this for long.
These nights where we do more momming than sleeping; they’re exhausting. We just want a few hours of restful sleep, but instead we are a punching bag, a pillow, and a milk machine. But these nights are exhaustingly precious, because it won’t be like this for long. Our oldest very rarely sneaks into our bed anymore, and it kind of breaks my heart. So I’ll take these midnight rib kicks in exchange for some sleepy cuddles, because mamma’s, it won’t be like this for long.
