small things {fleeting}

small things #64 ... fleeting

I open my eyes and I close my eyes and I open my eyes again to find that I'm awake.  And I'm alone.  Mommy said that she was going to nap with me, but I don't think she did.  I push back the comforter and swing my little chubby legs off the side of the bed.  I have to slide my bottom off the edge of the bed a little bit until my barefoot toes reach the carpet.  I rub my eyes a few times and stagger toward the stairs.  Why didn't Mommy nap with me?

I use my hands to help me navigate the steps - one, two, three, four, five, seven .... I push open the basement door and peer up the stairs to the living room.  I see my Mommy stretched out in the rocking chair, shoes off and eyes closed.

"Mom ... Mommy ... Mommeee," my words come out stuttered with my sleepiness.  "Why didn't you, why didn't you nap with me."

Her eyes open and she smiles.

"Hi, Sweetie.  I came downstairs, but you were already asleep and I didn't want to wake you up."

"You said.  You said you would sleep with me."

"I know.  Did you have a good nap?"

I blink a few times and try to focus my drooping eyes.  "I wasn't asleep.  I opened my eyes and I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep."

My bottom lip starts to quiver and I feel hot tears press against my eyes.  "You said you'd sleep with me."

Mommy tilts her head to the side and holds her arms out to me.  She turns sideways in the rocking chair and I crawl up and fit into the hole she made for me, sprawled across her lap with one arm flung over her shoulder.  I sniff my nose and wipe it against her shirt.  She sighs and pats my back as I nestle into her arms.  It's warm and quickly I feel a bit sweaty and sticky squeezed in beside my Mommy but I don't want to move.  I enjoy the rise and fall of her own breathing and the way she gently tickles my arm.  She whispers, "I like you," and I smile into the crook of her neck.

I hope Mommy naps with me tomorrow.  Doesn't she know that these chances to snuggle and sleep together are short-lived?

Fleeting ... kids grow up too fast.  I'd better take advantage of snuggle sessions while I can.  Before Lydia declares, "I think I'll just read by myself."

small things {stirring}

small things #57 ... stirring

Yesterday's post of slumbering and snuggling made me wish that we scheduled in a daily siesta for sleeping!  Or at least preserved the restorative habits of napping that we protected so diligently when our kids were babies.  There is nothing quite so lovely as feeling that delicious sensation of dropping off into dreamland in the middle of the afternoon!

Unless you compare that to the delightful moments of waking after a much needed nap ...

Lydia begins stirring a bit, rubbing her nose with the back of her pudgy hand.  Her eyes stay closed but she wriggles around a bit - attempting to settle back into her nest of blankets and a lumpy, down pillow. She is still for a moment.  Then her hands flutter up to her face to feverishly rub at her eyes and nose.  She scrunches her shoulders up to her ears, turning onto her side and burying her face in my pillow.  My girl stretches out her legs with her toes pointed and her back arched a bit.  Her body tenses as she stretches from the top of her sweaty head to her chubby toes.  She makes a little grunting noise and rolls onto her back.  Her eyes flutter and she peeks at me through her dark lashes ...

She bestows on me a sleepy grin.

Lydia scoots closer to me and flops her dimpled arm across my hip.  She absently pats me and exhales deeply.  Her sweet breath on my face carries a hint of the milk she had before nap time.   She mumbles something and forces her eyes to focus on me.

"What's that, Sweetie?", I whisper.

"May we get up, peas?", she murmurs. 

"Sure.  But let's wake up first," I say with a chuckle.

Stirring ... the pull of the pillow and the pull of playtime are equally undeniable!

small things {tangled}

small things #56 ... tangled

It's a quarter after two in the afternoon and the fan above our bed spins lazily.  It just barely moves the still, warm air.  Liddy and I are snuggled in bed - eyes drowsy and breathing deeply.

One chubby arm lays across my shoulder.  A blue and red paint smudge still clings to her skin.  One arm lies across her back, pulling her close.

One dimpled hand clutches the green chenille throw blanket between us.  One hand is tucked under her back, still smelling of the warm vanilla lotion we put on before climbing into bed.

One set of knees folded up to her chin - ankles crossed and pudgy toes tucked under the blanket.  One set of knees bent and snuggled around her balled-up form.

One forehead smooth and peaceful with dark and damp wisps of hair curled against her sleeping face.  One forehead creased and furrowed - trying to cast off the worry and work that crawled into bed with me.

Who is who?

Who is helping who hold still enough to rest?

Who is helping who nap?

Tangled ... a heavenly knot of nappers on a Saturday afternoon.