As I attempted to rock Jonah back to sleep last night, I felt that pang of sentiment that all moms feel, a lot and throughout, their children’s lives: At some point, I won’t be able to do this. It was his first night sleeping at our new apartment so I knew there would be a few sleeping hiccups… Given the fact that this child can negotiate as if it were a serious hostage terrorist situation, I knew that simply leaving his room and saying “goodnight” was far from realistic. (My favorite “Wait, Mommy, don’t leave!” moment was when he noticed my earrings and LITERALLY had me convinced that he was interested in when I got them and at what Nordstroms I went to). I also knew that no matter how many carbs I loaded him with, and how comfy and secure his bed was, the boy was gonna wake up. And call me. Four times.
The fourth and final time he called, I didn’t hear him so he got a little (a lot) worked up. I knew the only way to calm him down was to rock him, in his (I might add, newly recovered, fabulous) chair. Holding my boy, who is just 2 inches shy of 4 feet tall, I wondered how much longer we could do this. It’s already not so easy to pick him up, at what point and age will I really not be able to do that? I realized that cherishing THAT moment was the only way I’d be able to get through exhaustion at 4:30 in the morning. And it worked. Until I remembered it actually was 4:30 in the morning and I could have sworn I heard the sample of La Mer eye cream (that one day I’ll actually fork up the $ to get a big girl size of), laughing at me from my bathroom: “You think there’s a miracle cream for the puff after a night like this? Good luck, lady.”
There are a slew of things Jonah does or says that I don’t want to change…. in fact, some of the things he says wrong, I don’t want to correct. At 16, he’s not going to say, “Mommy, you’re the GOODEST Candyland player ever.” OR “Oh, please, oh please, can we go to OLD MacDonald’s for dinner?” OR “Wow! That is ridicLIous!” OR “I’m sorry I made a mistake. What’s my QUANCE-A-QUENCE?”
I just can’t bring myself to correct him. I love it. I want him to tell me he’s “JUSS joking” forever. I want to bundle him up like a baby burrito after a bath forever. I want him to show me how big his muscles have gotten because he eats my spinach and how fast he runs and high he jumps because he’s a super hero FOREVER.
At some point, it would be nice to get a full night of uninterrupted sleep. But the trade off is worth it. Very worth it. Good thing I know someone who works at the La Mer counter….