PRECIOUS SLEEP

I couldn't sleep last night.

It was probably the migraine pounding in my right temple - the third migraine since Christmas eve.

Or it could have been the fact that our cat has been vomiting for 36 hours and I am keeping him quarantined in the laundry room until I can get him to the vet on Monday. If I can find a vet, because ours closed. In the mean time he is putting up quite a fuss and the yelping is DRIVING ME CRAZY.

Or it could have been the fact that our sump pump sprayed all over our basement storage area due to heavy rains yesterday. Now our basement floor is full of items just lying around trying to soak up some warm dry air like so many sun bathers at the beach.

By the way these items include my wedding album.

This wonderful Midwest weather is like the gag gift that keeps on giving.

Anyway.

As is often the case when I can't sleep my thoughts turned to my children.

Kayla was happily tucked away in the basement with her cousin after having baked and decorated a giant cookie.

Blake was spending the night at a friend's house. A-Pat to be exact. A-Pat is a combination of his first and last name. Teenage boys are big on nick names. A-Pat is a bull dog on the wrestling mats. He's short and as muscular as they come - a compact package of power. A-Pat does not lose on the mats. It just doesn't happen.
While A-Pat is a bull dog, Blake is a Great Dane - all arms and legs and long lean muscle. While he doesn't have the bulk and power that A-Pat has, he's learned to use those long arms and legs pretty effectively.

And I realized again last night that I have simply blinked one time since I could gather those arms and legs onto my lap to rock my little boy to sleep.

See, I broke one of the cardinal rules of parenting when Blake was little.

I rocked him to sleep. Until two months before Kayla was born, I rocked him to sleep for naps and for bedtime.

Nap time was the sweetest time for Blake and me. He had a very precise sleeping routine as I rocked and sang to him. He would start out with his tummy pressing against me, his head on one of my arms, his legs dangling past the other.

Our hearts touching.

He'd watch my face as I sang, and I'd watch his. I'd watch his eyes grow heavy.

And just before his eyes would close for sleep he'd shift himself into another position. He'd turn his body so that his back was against my chest and his little legs dangled around my thigh, head leaned against me like the worn out little cowboy that he was. We somehow melted into the same position, with my hands clasped around his tummy - holding on to those moments for dear life.

Within seconds of his shift, he'd let out a tiny sigh and sleep.

And for some reason I had trouble pulling myself out of that rocking chair and placing him in his bed.