“Goodnight, little one”,
I whispered as I laid you down for bed. You look up at me and smile with sleepy eyes before rubbing them shut, and I melt. Just when I thought I was ready for you to lay down and be out so I can relax myself, my heart pings with a longing to scoop you up and wish you’d lay peacefully in my arms. But you won’t. Your bed is your cue for sleep, not my arms anymore.
I turn on your nightlight and creep out of your room, then I look around. The remnants of your playtime remain on our living room floor. Your high chair, your snacks, the aftermath of toys from Hurricane Baby- its the calm after the storm. Some nights I gather them up quickly and put them away, but other nights I take my time. I look at the elephant that sings and picture exactly how it makes you spin and dance, and the itty bitty red teddy bear thats the size of my palm, that you somehow manage to squeeze into a hug- and I smile. One day I’m going to long to have toys and kid-things to pick up and put away. So I grab the lotion I used after bath and snap the lid shut, knowing just an hour or so before we “argued” over whether it was edible or not, and I put it away.
There are nights when I stay up to do laundry and I sadly put aside the outfit I bought you from what I thought was last month that you’re already outgrowing way too quickly, just to put it away for safe keeping in hopes we might be able to use it for baby number three one day.
I remember being pregnant with you and wondering how on God’s Green Earth, I was gong to love you as much as I love your sister. If my heart was even capable of any more love. Then you were born and my cup runneth over– you proved me wrong.
Through your tantrums, the biting, the hitting, constantly managing to get into things you shouldn’t be in, and trying to teach you right from wrong, I miss you when you go to bed.
So, many nights before I go to bed to lay with daddy, I sneak back in your room and I sit down by your crib. If I am able, while you’re sleeping, I’ll place my finger in your hand and instinctively, you grab it.
Then off to bed I go.
“Being a mom has made me so tired. And so happy.” —Tina Fey
A poem by me, Ashley Cincotta“Goodnight little one“, I whisper
as I lay you down for bed.
Mommy will be in the other room
watching daddy sleep, instead.
That only lasts a little bit as she
she stays up a while to think-
About the toys I need to put away,
and the dishes in the sink.
So I put away the laundry
sadly laying smaller clothes aside,
wanting you small just a little longer
my heart, it breaks inside.
I sneak back in your room
and watch you sleep so peacefully.
It’s my secret form of comfort as
you’re growing right in front of me.
I sit there watching for a while
as my work is finally done.
Mommy loves you more than life, you know.
I whisper, “Goodnight, little one“.