Quality time

In the old days, when B slept in his crib, there were often times when I would wake up slightly before him. I know this sounds insane. Why wouldn't I get every second of sleep I possibly could? I really cherished those 30 minutes where the entire house was mine. It was calm, quiet, and most importantly caffeinated. By getting up just slightly before the baby I was able to eat, guzzle coffee, and consequently be a much better mom when B finally arose. Once my blood sugar was raised and the caffeine was circulating through my veins, I could greet B with squeals, hugs, and tickles, and profess my love for him. Before this time, I was only capable of grunts.

Things are different now. We have a special little bond forming due to co-sleeping. It's adorable and melts my heart except that it means we wake up at the same time. No.matter.what. Even if he wakes up and is contended to play by himself for an hour, this now wakes me up. If I happen to wake up at 5 (an hour and a half before B's supposed wake up) then he notices my absence and is up too. He has a great little system worked out actually. He holds on to me, or my sleeve at least, all night. When his hand is empty and he is unable to locate me through frantic flailing and swinging of Marcus, his little cavebaby panic alarm goes off and he snaps into full alertness. It's almost like I am pregnant with my 6 month old. (I think we are entering the separation anxiety phase so that might have to be another post entirely.)

"I love you SOOO much that I don't even care that you take advantage of that sometimes!"

Now that the peaceful days of privately caffeinating are behind me, we've had to develop a new routine. Luckily I am super flexible and a selfless mom. Now I pick B up out of bed, sit him next to me on the floor, and eat my breakfast and drink my coffee while he stares lovingly at me. He loves anything crinkly so I give him the wrapper to my protein bar and he crinkles it to his heart's delight while we gaze into each other's eyes and relish in our special bond.

When B is older I'll try to tell him some version of that story emphasizing the eye-gazing. If you can see through that spin then I might as well shoot it straight. What really happens is I wake up, he follows me, I selfishly feed myself first and drink caffeine while my hungry baby sits on the floor and watches me transform from incoherent grunter to delightful and adoring mommy. Since he is probably not only hungry but sitting in a filthy diaper that hasn't been changed for 12 hours, I give him some trash to amuse himself. This is the stuff lifelong scars and therapy bills are made of.

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