Thursday, May 12, 2011

You climbed into our bed last night scratching furiously at the bug bite on the back of your hand. It was swollen and inflamed. A nasty sight. Groggy and desperate of sleep, I asked you to bring over the medicine on your bathroom counter, and you did without complaint, even though the hallways were dark and the house was quiet. Even though you are often scared of the night. I listened to your quick, four-year-old sized footsteps as you raced down the hall, switched on the light, used the bathroom and then rushed back, medicine and Q-tip clutched in your hand. Medicine applied, you snuggled close beside me and went back to sleep.
A typical night of a mother; interrupted sleep that is dotted with the pride felt for a well behaved child, and the sweetness of being loved.

Monday, May 09, 2011

Swing

At your request, we stopped by the play ground on our way home from dropping your sister off at school.
All you wanted to do there was swing, and so swing we did.
You started off on the baby bucket swing. After a few minutes, you pointed at the normal swing and told me you want to be on the "big swing". "With mommy?" I asked. "Yes," you answered. Off we we went swinging on the big swing, you snugly in my lap, me a bit uncomfortably on the almost-too-small swing, arms looped around the chains and fingers laced in front of your chest. Every time I kick forward, your body would sway towards me. When we rock forward, my arms act as safety belt to keep you securely within my lap.
The sun shone golden on the soft, new leaves above our heads. The wind, brisk as it was, tickled. Front and back we swung, listening to birds sing, pointing out airplanes in the sky, and watched as trees danced in the wind. Sometimes we swung in silent, sometimes I sing a little tune, until I felt your body relaxing against mine, and your head leaning against my arm. A quick peak found you comfortably asleep as I continued to swing, back and forth, back and forth.
I slowed down, stopped, carried a sleeping you back into the car, and hope that I would never, ever forget the simple joy and love that was this morning.