I just finished putting him down to bed, and he was so cute and lovey and sweet that I felt I could have traded my whole life for those few short moments. Oh, how my heart longs to bottle him up -- his smile, his giggle, his scent, the squish of his cheeks, his angelic little personality...
Last night was the same. I was nursing him and naming some of the fun things he did that day; I said, "you did your dive," and he leaned his head back, grinned at me and sighed -- "ahh, what a great time that was when I was doing my dive earlier." Again tonight he kept leaning back and smiling at me. He touched my face and laughed when my eyelashes tickled his fingertips. I gave him eskimo kisses and kissed his lips and he giggled and giggled. He smushed his face against mine and breathed me in. When I put him in his crib after rocking and snuggling a bit, he didn't make a single whimper although he wasn't asleep. He must be very relieved to be back home and sleeping in his own room after a crazy long weekend at Gram's (I'll get to that next), because he's gone down without a fight for every single nap and bedtime since we returned. He slept through the night last night, too (he's been having trouble since our move) -- man, things are looking up!
Being a mom involves a lot of poop and whining and food on the floor, but nights like tonight, when my little one makes it abundantly clear that he's just as much in love with me as I am with him, completely wash the poo from the cup and cause it to flow ten times over.
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