So over the weekend we went to my parents’ house- which basically means there was no napping and a lot of requests for Pee Paw and Gamma to take care of him instead of Gabe or me. The trip was decidedly more tolerable with the addition of a DVD player for Simon to watch Signing Time episodes over and over, and he was pleasant ENOUGH on the way there and incredibly pleasant on the way back. I think the way back trip was MORE pleasant due to the fact that Gamma packed Simon a ziploc bag of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which I had THOUGHT was golden grahams, and after an hour in the car I turned around to see him covered head to toe in cinnamon and sugar, like a tasty donut hole.
Yesterday morning, before work, I was all dressed up in a delightful Ann Taylor Loft brown skirt (that I never wear) and a tasteful top when Simon came out of my bedroom holding a jersey knit sundress (that he took out of the dirty clothes). I wore it for my sister in law’s baby shower on Saturday for a few hours and tossed it in the dirty clothes when emptying my suitcase. Simon handed me the frock and asked, “Wear it?” Now, often this means that Simey himself would like to wear whatever he’s holding. It is not uncommon for him to be wearing a pair of ladies’ underwear over top (and possibly tucked into) his diaper. He’s got class, what can I say? But I asked if he wanted to wear it and he said, “NO mommy wear it. Dress.” So, I put it on, and he said, “Nice. Pitty dress.” And that’s why I looked like a ragamuffin at work on Monday.
Then tonight, as I crept into his room to gather up something, a mere hour and a half after he’s been put to bed, I heard him rustle in his cage crib. I froze, which I do (it’s either that or drop to the floor like a bomb hit). I do this in order to make him think he’s dreaming, or that he doesn’t really see me. I don’t know why this is my reaction, but I do it. Anyhow, he realized it was me and gasped, “oooohhh mommy home. sleep in mommy’s bed?”
He has not slept in mommy’s bed since he was a mere 10 weeks old. However, when we had the hives incident, I did take him back to bed in the SPARE bedroom, and we cuddled there for about an hour before getting up. Apparently he thinks OUR bed is Daddy’s Bed, and the spare bedroom bed is Mommy’s bed. This is also where “mommy’s blankie” is (a throw blanket). So I suppose his logic makes sense. I told him “No, I cannot have you sleep in mommy’s bed, but I can rock you for a while” so we rocked and rocked and his eyes fluttered in and out of almost falling asleep as his big ol’ body draped over me. And I kissed his forehead and drank it all in because I know these times are ending fast. The times where he’s going to want to snuggle and cuddle, be held and rocked. In fact, Labor Day Weekend has become the Big Boy Bed weekend, so we’ll be transitioning to that mess in a few weeks. And when the big boy bed goes into his room, the Rocking Chair comes out- the rocking chair that I’ve rocked him in for nearly two years will be out and in the living room again, as it was before he was born.
I’m not ready for all of this. I find myself thinking that a lot, and I imagine grownups all over the world think the same thing in a million languages.
So I smelled his head as we rocked, which always smells of honey and sweetness, and I kissed his forehead, like I do here in this video, and I just let him rock and rock and rock to sleep until I had to haul is 33+ pound body over the ledge of the extra safe crib cage, onto his mattress. And not a peep was made from him, except for when I traced his face with my fingers, like my dad did to me. And he made a smiling sigh.