Thursday, November 27, 2008

Thanks and giving

I find myself here, awake again in the early morning hours of days when most have laid their heads upon their pillows and succumbed to slumber. It’s not new, for me. I’m often awake long after I should realistically be sleeping.

I stay awake, making cards, writing blog posts, tweeting on Twitter, or any number of other inane occupations that make the time pass even more quickly.

It is during these nights, that I have my card-making supplies spread all over the floor, that I’m drinking a glass of wine, that the baby is slumbering on a pillow nearby, that I find my selves colliding.

I sit and cut out cardstock, or lay down adhesive and suddenly hear my son begin to cry.

He cries as he does all things: talk, sing, snore, sneeze, vomit, fart, what have you. He is, at four, already accustomed to the manly way of amping up the volume of all things emotional or involuntary.

Within moments of his first utterance, I am at his side. His voice, still a boy’s, yet holding hints of the man he will become if we are all as fortunate as I dream we are.

I ask him what is wrong. He is also, at four, still unable to express the very things that upset him so greatly.

Did you have a bad dream?

Yes!

We hug and I back rub and he seems to settle down until he’s just not settled.

What’s the matter now? I use my best gentle voice. I am worried that I will sound tense even though I am not tense. Tone plays such a large part in our lives.

I don’t know! My boy’s cries are heartbreaking and frustrating.

You know what I did when I was little and had a bad dream?

No. He’s tentative, but willing to try a solution that his old, outdated mommy might have used successfully.

I’d take my pillow, I said, and grabbed K’s, and I put it on this end of the bed.

I plumped the pillow at the foot end of the bed.

K settled in as I stroked his head.

This is the silly side of the bed, I explained. You’ll have to tell me about the silly dreams you had when we wake up tomorrow.

He settled in, this boy of mine who, not so long ago, was my baby. The baby of the family, usurped by another who dared to have the audacity to take his parents’ attentions away, who is still testing the love of his parents.

I closed the door to his bedroom as the tiny cry of his baby sister reminded us of her demanding presence and the unending call of motherhood.

For these nights, when my son cries out and back rubs soothe, when my oldest daughter tiptoes into my spot in my bed, when my baby fusses until my return, these nights I am thankful for.

5 people like me!:

Jeff said...

Yes, our kids are a great reason to be thankful. :-)

Happy Thanksgiving Heather. Hope you and your family have a great day!

Amanda said...

This was so beautiful. I am so thankful for friends like you who comment on my page and lead me back to such delicious morsels of parenting. I think I may cuddle a little longer tonight. And I shall remember the silly end of the bed, I think it will come in handy!

chelle said...

so sweet!
sigh
totally wonderful to be thankful for those wee ones.

Kate said...

Aww, that is so sweet. It's those tender moments that mean the most.

MommyWizdom said...

OMGoodness, you made me teary-eyed. What a sweet sweet post!!

I hope he had some silly dreams on the silly side of the bed! :-) I'm filing that away for future reference.

BTW, I'm adding you to my BlogRoll!

 
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